A surprise adoption came through a chance encounter

From Troy Media

by Stacey Lindgren

The thirst for adventure can lead to both positive and negative experiences, and you can learn from both, even when it involves some pain.The first six months of living in Alaska in 1997 with my new husband after we were married on June 21 of that year were both exciting and revealing. I landed a sales job with an advertising company and did two weeks of intensive training in Dallas, Texas.

The marriage seemed perfect in some ways, but concerning in others. My husband, David (not his real name), treated me with love, appreciation and tenderness.  This was how I wanted and deserved to be treated, and experiencing it for the first time filled me with gratitude and awe. We never tired of being together.

We were not so compatible on the financial side. Although I had never earned a huge income in the past, I handled money well, paid bills on time, treated myself occasionally to what I could afford, and lived within my means.

David, however, did not.  I discovered his credit card balances were high, and payments were late if he made them at all. His car payments were behind, as were the condo's mortgage payments. After I spoke to him about it, David agreed to let me handle the money and, in fact, seemed grateful.

Getting our finances into manageable mode was difficult, but my earnings were much higher than expected, and that helped make a dent in the debt. We cut up David's credit cards after I transferred the balances to my cards at a much lower rate.

Surprise phone call

One Saturday afternoon, the phone rang.  My brother and sister-in-law were calling with exciting news: They had decided to adopt an eight-year-old boy from another country. I was thrilled for them.

This particular adoption agency specialized in several countries: China, Moldova, Ukraine, the Marshall Islands and . . . Bulgaria.  Bulgaria? Curiosity drove me to the photos of Bulgarian children.

I scanned the last page, and then I saw her.  She was tiny with extremely short, brown hair, one crossed eye and a little smile.  The bio said her name was Fiides, age 5.

I stared. Of all the photos, why did this one grab me? Quickly, I read some of her information and the adoption rules.  Adoptive parents could be no more than 45 years older than the child they wanted to adopt. I was exactly 45 years older than Fiides, but David was 61 years old.

I felt both excited and frightened. These adoption stirrings hadn't hit me in years. Why now, at my age?  My two children were grown. David and his former wife had raised seven children, the youngest of whom was 17 and living with us.  Even thinking about adoption, much less bringing up the subject to David, seemed crazy.

A Saturday like no other

David walked in the door as I was making dinner.  We kissed each other and he sat down.  "How was your Saturday?" he asked.

"Good," I replied nervously.  Sensing my mood, David walked up behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder.

"What's up with 'good'?  Come on, tell me what you did on your day off."

After some small talk, I grabbed his hand and took him to the computer. As he stood close behind me in silence, I scrolled to the section with the photos of Bulgarian children. David said nothing.  Skipping the first two pages, I went directly to the third and stopped, pointing to Fiides' picture.  Without looking at David, I asked, "Would you like to adopt this little girl?"

He stood straight, not uttering a sound.  I turned and saw tears in his eyes. I stood up and hugged him.  He whispered, "Yes."

Could I believe what I was hearing?  After all these years, here were David and I, ages 49 and 61, with nine grown children between us and contemplating parenthood.  What a difference one day and one dream can make.

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