Houston, Texas native Robbi Joelson her life was beyond sweet and wonderful. Self-tailored law career, a nice five-bedroom home and having been blessed with two wonderful kids.
The Joelson’s house looked as if it had several gardens and a large pool, enjoyed by eight year-old Marissa and Seven-year-old Vlosko, an orphan from Belarus.
These loving people, with whom Vlosko shares the cozy surroundings could very well be yanked from his reach and he could be sent back to Belarus.
The Inter-global adoption packet comes in the mail, decides the Joelson Family’s fate.
The adoption packet is opened, and a letter inside orders Robbi to accompany him back to Belarus, and the hellishly negligent orphanage that is St. Peter’s Home For Orphaned Children.
This is it. The Big Needle awaits me, who, with a pounding heart, drudges down the white corridor. The warm, friendly techs a d nurse welcome me through the threshold of the lab. Deep breath, my body curled into a fetal position, grasp the hand that is offered to me. They offered to knock me out, but I said, “No thanks, I need to woman up and take my ‘punishment, hahaha.”
Even with the numbing medicine, I wanted to face this hurt head-on At home I face my mother-in-law the same way. I faced my sulky teenage son in the same fashion
My cancer was going to get mad My mother-in-law will jab on my home-running skills And my boy will “Hate” me
And I smile through it
Dear Ms. Joelson, I hope you are having a lot of good times with Vlosko, and based on the photos you have been Emailing us every week, you both seem to be having a ball!
God, this is not easy to say, Ms. Joelson, but unfortunately your application to adopt Vlosko has been blocked and declined by our agency in Belarus.
We ask that after these two final weeks, you fly yourself and Vlosko back to Belarus, and to St. Peter’s Home For Boys, to give farewell.
Sincere Apologies, Gaya Sergei
I froze, unable to contain the load of frustration over having to decide on how to deal with this piece of bad news. Why do these orphans get the short end of the stick? Thank God I opened this letter while Vlosko and Marina were at school, because I yelled and pounded the fridge with my fists.
The dreaded day arrived and I have talked with Vlosko about this circumstance we were about to face. I told him I will fight tooth, nail and butt to adopt him.
I already knew how dingy and bleak St. Peter’s Home For Boys, but I was still shocked at the sight of those poor children crying, and in a little while, I will unintentionally place Vlosko back into the miserable days that be filled with yucky, cold nurses, lack of hygiene and boring, tasteless porridge.
A rotund nurse walked up to Vlosko and myself, then yanked his shaky hands from mind. I bent over to embrace him, and this nurse ripped us apart and snapped, “Enough! Vlosko, come with ME! Now!”
Vlosko bawled for minutes on end, loud, passionate howls as he was struggling to break free from the nurse’s grasp. “You Quiet, Vlosko!” This nurse swatted Vlosko’s rear end as I froze, watching as this meanie dragged him farther away.
