After Ethan was killed, we didn’t believe we could ever care again about the future. We are both in our mid-fifties. In addition to loving Ethan so much for the special person he was, we had both thoroughly enjoyed having a child in our lives. We knew we could never have grandchildren or natural children.

A member of our book club -- an adoption agent specializing in Russian adoptions – planted a seed when she discreetly asked if we might be interested in looking into adopting. She offered to help us through all the complexities of the process, and began sending newsletters and listings of children looking for homes.

We considered the pros and cons as carefully as we could. At a 1999 conference for people who have no surviving children, we listened as a couple told us of their decision to adopt two pre-adolescent girls from Russia only two years after their daughter, 16, and son, 14, had been killed in a car crash. Their account was both exciting and frightening, but we finally decided we just didn’t have the heart or the courage to go through with such a big commitment.

Then, in February of 2000, our book club friend sent an email with a picture of an eleven-year-old Russian girl, Rima, who was personally known to our friend’s counterpart in Russia. Our friend said she didn’t mean to push us to do something we didn’t want to do, but that this girl was particularly talented and smart and was longing for a family. She was, however, too old to be adopted by most prospective parents who are looking for infants and toddlers.

We saw a video of Rima, and decided, rather impulsively in retrospect, that we would take the risk to proceed sight-unseen with the adoption! We decided that nothing could be worse than what we’d been through with Ethan’s death and, oddly, that gave us the courage to try something so bold. We also knew that, if things went well, we would all be better off for having each other in our lives. If things were disappointing, we believed that at least Rima would be better off than she would have been otherwise, and we would be doing something important enough that we’d be required to give it our best.

In June 2000 we went to Russia to meet her and finalize the adoption there. Rima spoke no English when we arrived in the U.S. on July 4th, 2001. At first everything seemed complicated, emotionally charged, and challenging, but, with the assistance of friends and professional helpers, now--a year and two months later--we’re all doing well and don’t in the least regret our decision. At this writing, Rima has just turned 13 and, of course, the situation has its challenges. We knew it would. But the rewards for us are far outweighing the difficulties, and we are all settling into a relationship that is deepening every day.

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