Taking an Aeroflot flight from Moscow to Perm, Russia was certainly a risk. The plane’s seatbelts didn’t work, the overhead compartments didn’t have doors that shut, and we were facing two other passengers with a table between us that was fastened to the floor. All of that didn’t matter; I just kept my mind focused on seeing our baby at the orphanage.
We had been given information from our adoption agency about a baby named Aloyna Maslova three months earlier.
She was blonde with piercing steel blue eyes. By now I had made pictures of her and sent them to all our relatives. She had already become a part of our family and I hadn’t even held her.
As the plane landed I was excited but apprehensive. The area was desolate and stark. As we exited the plane on the runway three police officers armed with machine guns watched us as we climbed down the stairs. Through the chain link fence I saw our interpreter waiting for us. She wasn’t smiling. As we approached her she looked into my eyes and said in a matter of fact,” I am sorry to inform you but Aloyna Maslova is no longer available.” “A Russian couple has decided to adopt her and until you have come to see her and sign the papers it is permissible for a Russian citizen to adopt her.”
I felt as if I had another miscarriage. I felt void of any emotion. Everything felt quiet and still as if life had stopped. I couldn’t process another loss. I wished I were home.