As my time in Ukraine begins to wind down I find myself feeling more and more reflective about my time here and what the future of my love-affair with Ukraine will look like.
When I first became acquainted with this crazy-cool country I just knew that I would be back someday and I feel the same still. There is most definitely a corner of my heart and mind that is firmly connected to this place, and now to many people here.
Yesterday as I spent my morning at the orphanage I could tell something big was happening...the office was in a tizzy, people running this way and that and there was a group of strange women lurking. The hurried conversational exchanges in Russian were much too fast for me to really understand what was going on and so I was quite confused when I left for the day and saw a big group of staff members (and the strangers) outside with one little girl who I have become quite attached to during my time here. Her hair had been rag curled and looked just adorable, she had on a new dress and was just grinning away as her teacher secured a colorful flower crown on top of her ringlets. To join the group felt intrusive at that moment and since I wasn't sure what was going on, and there was no way to ask discretely, I just excused myself and started for the door. As I turned my back I felt I knew what was going on, little Olya was aging out of the orphanage and was transferring to the older-child home and this was her "graduation" ceremony.
I felt a pang of sadness as I walked away, trying to be nonchalant, feeling a little hurt in my heart that I would not see this spunky little heart-breaker again. I resisted the urge to run back and scoop her up in a giant hug and tearfully tell her how much she touched my life and how much I wished such good and happy things for her. No. I can't do that. I am an adult. An outsider no less. It is not my place. I should be strong and not give her any reason to worry about what is to come. I should help teach her to deal with big life shifts with ease. I saw a picture in the orphanage office today that was taken of the oldest group of kids when I first arrived. Of the original 10 there are only 3 children that remain in that group. The others have aged-out and gone to boarding schools, or the house for disabled people, or adopted. Throughout this experience I have tried to stay professional and not allow myself to become attached but now I sit here and cannot imagine how I will not be haunted for the rest of my life by wondering what became of each of these children.

There are so many parts about my being here that I struggle to reconcile. My whole life I have been a champion for adoption but this experience has given me the chance to get up close and personal with the process and my ideas about it are challenged/reaffirmed/dashed all at once and all the time. At times international adoption seems like the perfect solution and other times it seems almost cruel in that it separates children from their heritage and identify. Some days I feel so righteous about giving a little love and affection to the kids, and other days I worry I am just setting them up for heart break when I leave.
Today I tearfully read a note from a friend who adopted three older children from Ukraine 3 years ago. Her youngest boy, 8 years old when she brought them home, is the type of kid who never complains-she was writing about how he is sick right now and hasn't made a peep about it. She shared that she knows the reason he is that way is because in his past he never had anyone around to take care of him or feel sick about the fact that he was hurting. She wrote that her beloved son must have had some compassionate caregivers at some time or another because he still retains an intense capacity to love...but that even they must have known that his life was going to be a tough one and he would have to learn how to take care of himself.
. I admire the work that the orphanage caregivers do, and like those who cared for my friend's son, they too work by the unwritten rule that they must prepare these children to be strong and independent and somewhat indifferent to the comings and goings of others in their lives. It has been hard enough on be these past 7 months to try and stay unattached and I don't even spend every day with them like these women do. I know why they do it, I even know that they must do it-both for their sanity and for the child-they don't know what the future has in store for these kids and they feel they have a duty to prepare them as best they can. However much I know about all this adoption stuff, however much I read the literature or see with my own eyes, for now I can just think of one thing to be sure of...that every child deserves the right to have someone who is crazy-mad-sick in love with them and couldn't imagine just walking away without so much as a good-bye hug
To my surprise today I found out that Olya was not in fact gone, she was being visited by her mother who is currently incarcerated. I couldn’t tell you which one out of the group of strange women was Olya’s mother , but I hope that Olya can, and I hope that she got a giant hug from her when they parted ways later that day.