To SIng Frogs Chapter 21b

One of the soft books we used with our adoptions

“They are very impressed,” Anya whispered as she bent toward us while still standing. “They are surprised that the books are in Russian.” Her explanation to us was cut short with words from the prosecutor, directed at her. Anya stood up straight, faced the woman in blue, and answered a series of questions. After, Anya was again leaned over, explaining the exchange to us. “I told her that was your house, the place where the girls would live; and there really are swarms of butterflies stuck to walls and the ceiling. I told her the dog’s name is really Dasha, that you own those horses, and that the children would learn to— Wait! Stand up!” Almost shoulder length medium blonde hair and a black robe had just entered the room through a door behind the bench. Anya quickly told us that court was now in session. The black robe took its place under an embossment of the gold double-headed eagle on red. It was a symbol that had survived since the fifteenth century; a hundred years before the first Romanov took power. Anya told us to be seated.

There was no delay in the judge and prosecutor getting down to business. First they began to question Marina-Grigorievna. She was sitting next to Kirrill’s social worker at a table co-linear with ours. Anya’s whispers provided us with interpretation of the straightforward exchange. The queries may as well have been read from a script.

  How did the children come to be in the care of the state? They were severely abused and neglected by the mother. In fact, the State had taken custody of the mother’s previous children.

I cringed like a beaten puppy and looked up at Anya. She subtly but sternly shook her head at me.

Were there relatives that might take the children into custody and care for them? The birth mother’s parents were dead.

What about aunts and uncles? The birth mother grew up in an orphanage because her parents couldn’t afford her. She went home for weekends but basically had no family life. Even if there were blood siblings they would not really consider themselves relatives. There was no chance of an aunt or uncle stepping forward. Besides, they had plenty of opportunity before now.

    What about the father of the children? “There is no legal record of a father. The only record of a father was verbal indication the mother gave at birth.”

I shook my head in disgust, if only in my mind. Russia. Blood doesn’t make you a father. Documents make you a father. There are plenty of deadbeat dads who would like to implement that policy in the States.

It was common knowledge that the State preferred to have Russian children adopted by Russian families. International adoption was the course of last resort. Had the system done everything in its power to get these children adopted by Russian families?The children had been in the system for the legally required time to allow Russians to adopt. Katya had been there significantly longer. The girls had been advertised as available for adoption in local papers with no interest shown. There was no hope for the children to be adopted by Russian families. The course of last resort was the path that needed to be followed.

Marina-Grigorievna was allowed to sit while the exact same questions were posed to the other social worker in regards to Kirrill. The answers were equally satisfying to the court.

Then the judge leaned her stoic face out over her folded hands and asked the social workers what they knew about the adopting parents. Had they shown interest in the children? Did the children seem to bond with the parents? What kind of parents did the social workers think they would make? How many times did the parents visit the children?

            The parents had shown a great deal of interest. They visited each of the three children in their individual orphanages as often as they could during the first week-long visit. They even flew to Russia early so they could visit with the children before court. The children had bonded with the parents and Katya even broke down and cried when they left her at the orphanage several nights before.

After more than a half-hour of questioning, Anya interpreted that the prosecutor had something to add. The woman in blue approached the bench carrying the soft books.

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