The photo

So the day finally came. We received our prospective baby's photo. Her birth name is Svetlana and she is currently 5 months old. And she is a cutie.

In the photo, she is swaddled within an inch of her life. In fact, you can't see her body at all, since the swaddled blanket covers her from her neck down. Apparently, the swaddling ( the wrapping of the baby in a receiving blanket) helps the child feel warm, protected and like she is in the womb.

She's got enormous cheeks , and possibly red hair although they described it as light brown. Her eyes are grey, but It's hard to tell that from the picture because she's lying down ( thank you RFJ for realizing we needed to shift the photo horizontal) and looks like she may have just awoken from a nap.

There is, however, the unfortunate possiblility that our first trip will be delayed because of new restrictions passed by the Russian Government as of December 30 2004. So we may not leave for 2 to 3 months. We will have more information next week. She was apparently relinquished by her birthmother, a 24 year old resident of Pirm with one child already, at her birth. They gave us practically no medical information about her except one typically Russian diagnosis that they apparently attribute to every baby born in Russia. Last evening I emailed her picture and the written information to Jane Aronson, the renowned "orphan doctor" who will evaluate the information thus far. We await her reply.

Receiving the photo has changed EVERYTHING. Suddenly, this experience feels all the more real. And a lot of the fear and tredpidation have dissipated. Last night, I slept better than I have in weeks.

I had a curiously profound dream in which I was pregnant and my stomach was protruding. In the dream, SM introduced me to her friend and pointed to my belly, but apparently the friend couldn't tell I was pregnant ( she had no idea what SM was pointing at). Then I went to a party and had some wine and suddenly remembered I was pregnant. I felt terribly guilt- ridden and remorseful, convincing myself that I had damaged my unborn child.

I woke up relieved that I had been dreaming. My stomach actually did feel full and protruding. I immediately picked up the picture by my bedside, and felt a wave of contentmen and calm. There is a baby, and she is quite possibly mine.

I showed the picture to my mother, father, stepmother, sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew. I particularly liked my nieces nicknaming her "Ducky" because of the yellow ducks on the blanket in which she is swaddled.

The cooking Lesson

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My mother called to ask me if I would help her learn to cook. Of course she knows how to cook, but she had gotten a tad rusty as she had become very dependent upon the local Chinese delivery and delicious take-out from either Zabars or Citarella.

I thought the request a bit odd since I don't think of myself as a particularlly competent cook. Nevertheless, I decided to take on the challenge.

It turns out that she really admires my culinary abilities or at least the fearless way in which I approach cooking I came over to her apartment on the Upper Westside and we picked out a recipe from the Pierre Freney " Rapide Cuisine" cookbook. I assessed her kitchen and ingredients. She really has very little cooking accoutrements, since she mostly takes out or orders in. So we made a list of ingredients we needed to buy and we were on our way to Citarellas.

Mom followed me around dutifully, shopping basket in hand, and seemed very excited by the prospect of buying all the ingredients. We bought chicken breasts, shallots,garlic, Mesclun, Arugula, tomatos, Black Pepper, Sea Salt, Worsteshire Sauce ( "I had a bottle like this for my entire marriage') , tomato paste , goat cheese, fresh tarragon and many other goodies. We then went to Zabars to consider purchasing a new sautee pan. We almost did, but she changed her mind. She just wasn't ready to make that commitment and decided it was best to use a rather large white Creuset pan she already had.

We arrived home unpacked our ingredients, and started cooking our recipe," Chicken with Mustard and Shallots". We realized that she already had a bottle of Worsheshire and we both laughed at the irony of now having two huge bottles of something one rarely uses.

We sauteed the chicken breasts and made the sauce that in true Freney fashion included both white wine and heavy cream. Mom thought it would be nice to sip the wine while cooking ( just like Julia Child herself). I admired Mom's savoire faire and abandon. and took a few swigs of the opened Chardonnay. We cooked the Rice Pilaf, ( ok, the boxed kind - a great discovery from my husband when we were first married ) , set the table, and served ourselves a lovely dinner at 5pm.

After our dinner, I had an appointment and got ready to leave. Mom thanked me profusely for the "lesson" and asked if we could possibly make this a weekly activity. Apparently, she finds my" fearlessness" about cooking very inspiring.

As I was walking to the subway, I was smiling to myself, feeling very content. I didn't know who was more gratified, mom or me. She had really made me feel worthy. It was an extradinary feeling to feel so appreciated and valued. To feel this way was so wonderful and unique that I smiled all the way to 72nd Street.

The cooking lesson had been most nutritious for both of us.

It's that first week of the new year

It's that first week of the new year and I'm still not ready to start up - Especially as a freelancer, I'm not quite ready to answer the phone or to start worrying about where the work is going to come from. Hell, I haven't even bought a new calendar to write down all my jobs, appointments etc. For some reason, It is not even easy to find one. Perhaps I'm looking in all the wrong places.

It's that first week of the new year when you've got to file away all the paperwork from the previous year, clear out all the files, to make room for all the new bills, expenses, correspondences and call sheets. But I would rather just stay in bed and hope the phone doesn't ring.

Of course this is a particularly difficult time of waiting. Waiting for Russia to open up again after 10 days of their holiday to determine who our baby is, and when we get to meet her.
It's a tough week of waiting till next week when we can call the adoption agency and ask them what is going on. No use calling them now since all the offices are closed shut in Russia. It's their xmas/new year all rolled into one and the entire country closes down for ten days. . Really.
So here I am waiting for information and feeling kind of numb. Are we really going to become parents? How is this all going to work out? When is the baby furniture arriving? There are so many unanswered questions.

Today, I packed up all the stuff we bought to bring to Russia - the bottles, desitin, baby wipes, bibs, sippy cups, clothing, gifts for the caregivers at the orphanage - The NYFD T-shirts and hats - a favorite for foreigners . And all of this fits into a big duffle bag I bought many years ago - A Kipling bag that I carried to the Hamptons to my share houses, on vacations with numerous boyfriends and then gave to SM to use for her family. Years of trips to California, filled with gifts, toys, and children's clothing. And now this bag will be going to Perm, Russia.