Harrison's Story
By David & Korina M
When I tell our story now it seems like maybe it didn’t really happen; maybe we saw it in a movie or dreamt it one night. But every morning from the bedroom across the hall comes a bellow: “Good morning!” and in rushes our sweet little boy, Harrison. So it’s true. It really happened. Within three years we went from thinking maybe we should have a kid, to a fertility specialist’s office (and a quick no, thank you) to getting on a plane to Moscow to meet our baby.
I remember looking around the room at that initial informational meeting at Wide Horizons and seeing all the weary faces. This was a monumental decision, probably the biggest one of our lives, and we were all scared, overwhelmed, uncertain. I think most of us were already tired of talking about having a baby, we just wanted to have one already! My husband and I left the meeting with a big sigh and a head full of information. And the monumental decision still to be made. Once we decided to go forward, the subsequent meetings made everything seem more and more doable. The faces (which turned into names and then friends) went from somber to excited as we finished our home study, chose our country of adoption, and checked off the items for our dossier.
Our Russia liason, Masha, continued to support us through the final months waiting for the phone call. Once we got to Russia, we were put in the most caring and competent hands of Michael, Andre #1, and Andre #2. We spent a week beginning the process, and two months later returned for another week to complete the adoption. It became apparent during our time there that this was not just a job for them and our drivers. They truly cared that these children were placed in loving homes and they treated us with a great deal of respect. Certainly when we finally had our son’s visa, all we wanted to do was come home, but leaving was bittersweet. We had to say goodbye forever to the men who guided us through the most personal and precious time of our lives. We had to say goodbye to the country our son was born in, where his birth family lived, where he spent the first seven months of his life, where we first met him and became a family. Even though my head was buzzing from lack of sleep and my anxiety level remained perpetually on high since the day of our phone call over three months prior, nevertheless, I wanted to drink it all in and savor every last memory.
One of the orphanage workers who cared for Harrison said he had the best disposition of all the babies. Perhaps she was just trying to be kind, but it’s turned out to be true. It’s been almost three years since we brought our happy little boy home. He is, of course, also very handsome and extremely bright. He loves to know how things work and every question we answer begets another. One of Harrison’s favorite books is the small photo album with pictures of our first meetings at the Russian orphanage and our homecoming. He often selects it for his bedtime book, prodding me to “Read it!”. So I tell him the story, as we’ve done countless times since bringing him home, of how we became a family. It’s not a movie or a dream. It’s better.