A Long Way from Home

‘As I said last night on the phone,’ the doctor continued, ‘Lana was a very sick baby. We did our best to save her but it wasn’t enough. She died peacefully in her sleep.’

‘What was the matter with her?’ Elaine asked, her voice slight.

‘She wouldn’t feed, something wrong in her gut, but you needn’t worry about that. We have to look to your future.’ His gaze went from one to the other, gauging their reaction, and Ian nodded. ‘I do not have a photograph yet of Anastasia. She has only just been given up for adoption. But she is healthy and you can see her shortly. Her mother works abroad a lot, as many single women here have to. She has been leaving her with us since she was a baby. Now the mother has met a man who is going to marry her, so she will be leaving this country for good for a better life.’

‘And she can’t take her child with her?’ Elaine asked, horrified.

‘No. It happens,’ Dr Ciobanu said matter-of-factly. ‘The man may not even know she has a child. The mother believes her daughter will be better off here in the orphanage, as many parents in this country do.’ He sighed with exasperation, as though he didn’t agree with this. ‘I will explain to the mother that her daughter will have a better life being adopted by you, rather than being left here.’

‘So the child isn’t free for adoption yet?’ Ian asked.

‘No, but she soon will be. I will speak to the mother today and get her to sign the forms, which I will take to the court personally.’ Elaine and Ian knew that this wasn’t so unusual. Part of the doctor’s role was as an adoption facilitator – arranging and completing the formalities of adoption as well as advising the adopters on procedure. ‘The court will set a hearing date and once the adoption has gone through you will be issued with a new birth certificate, passport and visa for the child.’ This was standard and what would have happened with Lana’s adoption had she lived.

‘How long will all this take if we decide to go ahead?’ Ian asked. ‘With Lana we were already a long way through the process. It would have been completed in three to four weeks. I have to work; we can’t stay here indefinitely.’ He hoped this didn’t sound abrupt but they had to be practical.

The doctor gave a small shrug. ‘It shouldn’t take too long. The legal system in this country can run slowly at times, but I will do everything in my power to speed things up.’ Which didn’t really tell them much.

‘How old is the child?’ Elaine finally thought to ask, overwhelmed.

‘Two and a quarter,’ the doctor said, glancing at a handwritten note tucked into their file. ‘Don’t worry, I will make sure you have all the correct paperwork for her, including a medical.’

‘She’s a lot older than Lana,’ Elaine said.

‘Yes, but she is strong and healthy. Why don’t you come and meet her? I am sure you will be happy.’ Dr Ciobanu immediately stood. He was used to having his word acted on, although he came across as caring. Ian and Elaine knew he only charged the minimum for his services, while some adoption facilitators were growing rich on the proceeds of international adoption, although no money reached the natural parents. It was illegal to give them anything – gifts or money.

Elaine’s heart missed a beat as she tucked her hand into Ian’s and they followed Dr Ciobanu out of his office. Could it possibly be? The moment they’d anticipated, worked towards and dreamed of for so long? Was it possible that after all the ups and downs and disappointments, they were going to meet a child who could be theirs? Ian’s hand tightened in hers and Elaine knew he was as nervous as she was.

Chapter Three

Anxious

‘Anastasia!’ Dr Ciobanu announced brightly, leading them to a cot in the second nursery room. Ian and Elaine met the child’s inquisitive gaze with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Clearly not a baby, but an apparently healthy, bouncing child with personality and gusto. She was pulling on the bars of the cot as though demanding to be let out, and was so different to the nine-month-old baby they’d come to adopt, it took them a minute to adjust.

‘Say hello to your new mummy and daddy,’ Dr Ciobanu told her.

Anastasia babbled something in her own language.

‘What did she say?’ Elaine asked.

‘It was just baby talk,’ the doctor replied. ‘Don’t worry, she will quickly learn English and forget her life here.’

‘Hello,’ Elaine said tentatively, taking a step closer to the cot. Ian joined her. Anastasia looked at them and they looked back. It was one of the most touching and surreal moments of their lives as they were presented with this little stranger who could shortly become their daughter. ‘Why is she in a cot?’ Elaine asked, without taking her gaze from Anastasia.

‘To keep her safe,’ Dr Ciobanu replied. ‘She is an active child and would be gone from here given the chance.’

‘I don’t blame her,’ Ian quipped, which helped ease the tension.

‘I’ll get her out and you can see how active she is,’ Dr Ciobanu said. Reaching over the cot side, he lifted out the child and set her on the floor. As soon as her bare feet touched the ground she made a dash for the exit. Dr Ciobanu called out something in her language and she stopped. ‘You mustn’t go out. It’s not safe,’ he repeated to her in English. She threw him an almost defiant look, but it was so quaint on the face of a cherubic two-year-old that they all laughed.

She was like a life-sized porcelain doll, Elaine thought, with her pale skin, clear blue eyes and fair hair, and wearing a little floral dress that was really far too small. But she did look healthy and robust, which was so important after what had happened to poor little Lana. Moving away from the door, Anastasia went to the closest cot and, peering through the bars, began talking to the child. He was very disabled and lay motionless on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his misshapen limbs jutting out at odd angles.

‘He’s blind and deaf,’ Dr Ciobanu said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘We do what we can, but …’ He left the sentence unfinished.

It was as heartbreaking now for Elaine and Ian to see these children as it had been the day before. Although they hadn’t been in this room, it was similar to the others, and the majority of the children in the cots seemed to have a severe physical and/or mental disability. Elaine felt a pang of guilt for wanting a healthy child, but she knew her limitations – she couldn’t cope with a badly disabled child. That took a very special person. For some moments they watched, spellbound, as Anastasia went from cot to cot, babbling to the infants in her own language and gently stroking their foreheads or holding their hands through the bars. Only a few responded by shifting their gaze to her; most lay unresponsive and continued to stare blankly into space as though they weren’t aware she was even there.

‘Can we take Anastasia outside and play ball for a while?’ Elaine asked. The room was oppressive.

‘Possibly tomorrow,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘Today is just for you to meet her. I will speak to the mother and then you can come back tomorrow and play with Anastasia.’ Which they had to accept, and it seemed reasonable that the doctor would want to speak to the mother first to gain her consent to start the adoption process. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, clapping Ian on the shoulder. ‘All will be well, I promise you.’

They continued to watch Anastasia for a while longer as she went from cot to cot. How Elaine would have loved to pick her up and carry her home there and then, for the bonding process had begun and she was already feeling protective towards her.

Dr Ciobanu made a move to go. ‘So you come back tomorrow,’ he said.

‘Yes, of course. What time?’ Ian asked.

‘I’ll phone you in the morning in your hotel room to let you know.’ He then called down the corridor for a care worker. ‘Anastasia can stay out of her cot for now,’ he said to them. ‘She can help. She likes to help.’

A different care worker appeared, but seemed no less harsh and abrasive in her manner than the other one. Dr Ciobanu said something to her in their own language and then called Anastasia, presumably to go with the care worker. Anastasia pretended not to hear and stayed by the cot. ‘Now, please,’ the doctor said firmly, then repeated it in her own language. Anastasia dutifully turned and went over to the care worker. Elaine’s heart clenched.

‘Goodbye, love,’ she called after her. ‘See you tomorrow.’ But Anastasia didn’t reply, because of course she hadn’t understood.

‘You can teach her English when you visit,’ Dr Ciobanu said, beginning towards the door. ‘She will learn quickly. She is bright.’

‘Yes,’ Ian agreed, much happier now.

Anastasia and the care worker were already out of sight as the doctor led the way to the main door. ‘Do you want our paperwork now?’ Ian asked, having brought it with them in his briefcase.

‘Tomorrow will do. We have plenty of time.’

‘But not too long, I hope,’ Ian said.

The doctor smiled. ‘Don’t worry. You enjoy your stay here, see some of our beautiful country and let me take care of the rest.’ He unlocked the door and they followed him down the path, where he let them out of the main gate, saying hello to their cab driver.

‘So you’ll phone us tomorrow morning to let us know what time we have to come?’ Ian confirmed. He would have liked a firm time but had to accept that things ran differently in this country.

‘Of course.’ Dr Ciobanu shook their hands and then returned inside as Elaine and Ian climbed into the back of the cab.

‘You look happier,’ the driver said.

‘We are,’ Ian replied, taking Elaine’s hand.

‘You met your daughter?’ the driver asked, starting the engine.

‘We did,’ they chimed. For although they hadn’t actually had that conversation, they both instinctively knew that to adopt Anastasia was the right decision. They were beside themselves with joy.

The driver dropped them off at their hotel and they went briefly to their room to freshen up, then had a light lunch in the hotel, including a glass of wine to celebrate. While they ate, Ian messaged those who knew they were there and were waiting for news, telling them only that they had met their daughter and everything was fine. They would fill in the details about Lana’s passing and Anastasia when they returned home. For now, this was the update their friends were waiting for, and his and Elaine’s phones buzzed with messages of congratulations and good luck.

They spent the afternoon walking around the local area, gazing into shop windows and down side alleys, and visiting the street market. They took lots of photographs. Although it was their first visit to the country, they’d read up about it and researched online and wanted pictures of the area to show Anastasia when she was older. The social worker who’d assessed them for their suitability to adopt and compiled their Home Study report had emphasized how important it was for adopted children to know their roots. She said they had to be completely honest with the child from the start and recommended they compile a Life Story Book and Memory Box, which they’d already begun, having taken photographs of the departure board at the airport and saved their boarding cards. They’d take photographs of Anastasia tomorrow and, if they were allowed, of the orphanage too. They’d keep the clothes she wore here and anything else significant or of sentimental value that would help give her a better understanding of her past. Elaine had also begun a diary of their journey through the adoption process, confiding their hopes and feelings from when they’d made that first phone call enquiring about adoption. Anastasia would know as much about her past as possible, just like the social worker had said, although possibly not about Lana. She must never feel second best.

That evening, after dinner, they sat in their hotel room with a phrase book and tried to learn some of the language, but it was a very difficult language to learn and they laughed at their feeble attempts to pronounce the words. Thankfully Dr Ciobanu spoke very good English, and it was important that Anastasia learned English as soon as possible, so learning the local language for them was fun rather than necessary.

They were in bed early and slept well. Nevertheless, they were downstairs at 7 a.m. having breakfast, excited at the prospect of spending time with Anastasia, and not wanting to miss Dr Ciobanu’s phone call. As soon as they’d finished eating they returned to their room. Although Dr Ciobanu had both their mobile numbers, the network service in this country was notoriously haphazard and expensive, and they knew that most professions preferred to use landlines where possible.

The morning slowly ticked by. The maid knocked on their door to make up their room but they thanked her and told her not to bother today. The phone stayed perversely silent and by noon, when Dr Ciobanu still hadn’t called, doubt and anxiety set in.

‘He definitely said he’d phone in the morning,’ Elaine said, ‘and the morning has gone now.’

‘Perhaps he got held up or called away,’ Ian offered.

‘Or perhaps Anastasia’s mother has refused to give consent and is taking Anastasia with her,’ Elaine said, voicing her worst fears. ‘If so, I can’t go through this again, Ian. I can’t. We forget about it and go home.’

‘We don’t know that,’ Ian said, trying to be rational. ‘Let’s assume for now that no news is good news.’

Elaine wasn’t reassured. ‘Dr Ciobanu said we could visit this afternoon but before long it’s going to be too late. We can’t just sit here waiting indefinitely.’

‘But we know from other couples that there is a lot of waiting and hanging around,’ Ian reminded her.

‘But that was waiting for the court date,’ she said, irritable from worry.

‘All right, calm down. We’ll give him another hour and then I’ll phone at one o’clock.’

The hour passed, the phone didn’t ring and their unease increased.

‘Shall I phone or will you?’ Elaine snapped at 1.05.

‘I will,’ Ian said, but went to use the bathroom first.

Elaine would have liked to give Dr Ciobanu a piece of her mind for causing them all this extra stress. International adoption was emotional and fraught even when it ran smoothly. But neither she nor Ian would criticize the doctor to his face, as they were relying on him to give them what they wanted more than anything in the world – a child of their own. He could keep them waiting for as long as he wanted and they had to put up with it.

Returning from the bathroom, Ian sat beside Elaine on the edge of the bed and pressed the speaker button on the phone so they could both hear the conversation. He keyed in the number to the orphanage and to their surprise it was answered straight away by Dr Ciobanu.

‘It’s Ian Hudson,’ he said, a slight tremor in his voice.

‘Hello. How are you?’ the doctor asked jovially, apparently oblivious to the worry he’d caused them. Elaine wrung her hands in her lap.

‘We’re OK,’ Ian said. ‘But we were expecting you to phone this morning about our visit this afternoon.’

‘Yes, come here tomorrow with your paperwork.’

‘Not today?’ Ian asked.

‘No. I have a visitor from the government coming this afternoon. Tomorrow is good.’ Which again they had to accept.

‘All right. So everything went well with the mother?’

‘Yes.’

‘She has consented to the adoption?’

‘Yes, of course. You and your wife will have to learn to trust me. I know what I am doing.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you do. I’m sorry,’ Ian said quickly. ‘We’re just very anxious, having lost Lana. We couldn’t bear another loss.’

‘And you won’t have to. Come here tomorrow at two and you can spend time with your daughter.’

‘Thank you so much.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Chapter Four

Anastasia

With their confidence in Dr Ciobanu restored, and looking forward to seeing Anastasia again, Elaine and Ian passed the following morning with a visit to the local supermarket. It wasn’t a large shop but it was crammed full of every type of good imaginable, including groceries, pharmaceuticals, underwear and socks, toys, beer, hardware and numerous miscellaneous items. There was also a box of Christmas decorations, even though it was only August. They bought bottled water, and some bread and ham for their lunch, as it was too expensive to keep eating in the hotel and there weren’t any cheap restaurants or cafés close by. They also found a colouring book, crayons and a doll for Anastasia. Lana would have been too young for these – they had packed nappies, baby food and first-year toys for her, which were still in the suitcase. They’d also brought with them clothes to fit Lana that would be far too small for Anastasia. They’d have to buy more here before the adoption, as they knew the children often arrived at court only with what they stood up in.

They returned to their hotel room to eat their picnic-style lunch, and then with Elaine carrying the bag of toys for Anastasia and Ian his briefcase containing the paperwork for Dr Ciobanu, they waited in the lobby for the cab. They’d booked it for fifteen minutes earlier than it needed to be, to allow time for it being late, so in fact it arrived to collect them on time. ‘I’ve cracked it!’ Ian joked to Elaine, and she laughed conspiratorially. How much happier they were now.

It was the same driver they’d had on their first trip to the orphanage and he greeted them like long lost friends, shaking their hands warmly and asking how they were. ‘Perhaps we’re tipping him too much,’ Ian whispered to Elaine as they climbed into the cab.

But it was rather nice – reassuring – to see a familiar friendly face in a country where they knew no one and didn’t speak the language. He was eager to know what had happened since he’d last seen them, when they’d arrived at the orphanage to be told Lana was dead. Ian briefly explained about meeting the doctor and Anastasia the day before and that the adoption was going ahead. The driver was very pleased for them and didn’t seem to mind that they weren’t using the lady his cousin knew. ‘So I’ll be seeing lots of you,’ he said, for he knew the procedure. Couples usually visited the child most days while they waited for the adoption to go through.

He parked outside the orphanage, and as Ian and Elaine got out he wished them luck and confirmed he would be waiting for them when they came out – it didn’t matter how long they were. Trying to summon a cab outside the towns and cities was highly unreliable and most cab drivers were happy to wait for hours if necessary. It added a little to their income and saved the clients a lot of aggravation.

Ian rattled the gate to alert the staff to their presence and the driver gave a blast of the car horn. A few moments later Dr Ciobanu appeared.

‘Good afternoon,’ he called brightly, coming down the path. He unlocked the gate and warmly shook their hands and said hello to the driver. ‘So are we all good?’ he asked Ian and Elaine as they followed him inside.

‘Yes, thank you,’ they replied.

‘You slept well? And the hotel is comfortable?’ he asked, showing them into his office.

‘Yes, it’s fine, thank you,’ Ian said. Although staying in the hotel was purely practical. They’d been warned that the cheaper guest houses were very basic and unclean and the court wouldn’t be happy knowing the child would be taken to one of them. There would be at least a week between the adoption order being granted and the adoption papers, her passport and visa being issued. During which time Anastasia would be with them. While many children lived in far worse conditions than those found in guest houses, the courts expected better from the adoptive parents.

The orphanage was quiet as usual, and Ian and Elaine sat at the table in Dr Ciobanu’s office as he offered them a glass of water, which they politely refused. He sat opposite them, their folder and other paperwork on the table in front of him. ‘So I have spoken to Anastasia’s mother,’ he said, taking a sip of his water. ‘She has agreed to you seeing the child for an hour each day before the adoption, but she has requested you do not take her outside.’

‘OK,’ Ian said. ‘Can I ask why?’

‘It’s normal. The mothers are concerned you may abduct or harm the child.’ They nodded. ‘She has also asked that she has new clothes. Again, this is usual. She is very poor and what we have at the orphanage is basic. You have brought some with you?’

‘Yes,’ Elaine said. It was on their instruction sheet. ‘But they were for Lana. They are far too small for Anastasia. We were looking at some children’s clothes this morning at the local supermarket but they didn’t have much choice.’

‘No. I will give you the address of a proper children’s shop in town. You can go there.’ He scribbled the address on the notepad, tore it off and passed it to Elaine. ‘It’s about a twenty-minute cab ride from your hotel. The driver will know where it is.’

‘Thank you,’ Elaine said, and tucked the paper carefully into her bag.

‘The clothes you brought with you for the other child you can donate to the orphanage,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘We rely on donations.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Ian said, although he would have liked to have been asked rather than instructed. They both knew the doctor wasn’t being rude; it was just the way so many people in this country talked. They issued instructions rather than requests, so it could sound very curt and abrupt.

‘Give me your paperwork now, please,’ Dr Ciobanu said. ‘You have brought the originals?’

‘Yes,’ Ian said. Unclipping his briefcase, he handed the file to the doctor. In it was their Home Study report compiled over eight months by their social worker, Certificate of Eligibility to adopt, medical reports, references, bank and mortgage statements (showing they could afford to look after a child) and police checks. All of which had been notarized and translated. Ian had another complete set in his briefcase in case any went missing. Photocopies of the documents had already been sent, but the court required the originals.

They waited patiently as Dr Ciobanu turned the pages, checking everything was there. ‘Good,’ he said, flicking through the last few. ‘It seems to be in order. Now you need to sign these forms so I can process them.’ He opened the second file and placed various forms in front of them, which they both signed. They weren’t translated but Ian and Elaine knew what they were and had been expecting them. ‘Your request to adopt Anastasia,’ Dr Ciobanu confirmed, ‘and in this one you appoint me to represent you and act on your behalf.’ The last form was a donation to the orphanage and an amount equivalent to £500 had been entered. Again, this was standard and they’d been expecting it.

‘Do you want the donation now?’ Elaine asked. The doctor nodded. She opened her handbag and took out an envelope containing the local currency and passed it to him.

‘And the second payment for you arrived in your account?’ Ian asked.

‘I haven’t checked but I am sure it has,’ the doctor said. They’d had to send an initial payment for the doctor’s services when they’d first instructed him and then a second payment to cover the court fees before they arrived. But these fees were small compared to what they’d already spent at home on their Home Study, Certificate of Eligibility, notarization, medicals, etc. All in all, including accommodation and travel, they estimated they would spend in the region of £25,000 for the adoption. A lot of money to them, but obviously worth every penny.

‘So now you have time with Anastasia,’ Dr Ciobanu said. Standing, he tucked the envelope into his inside jacket pocket. ‘I will bank this later and give you a receipt. Come this way. Anastasia is in the playroom.’