July 29, 2005

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Publication Date: Friday, July 29, 2005

In any language, a smile is a smile

Brett Stover mentions his wife Tamara as he tells how the two decided to adopt - and the little girl beside him murmurs, "Mama." While Anna's English remains a work in progress, the love she and her siblings feel for their adoptive parents brings a glow to their eyes.

Each takes a turn crawling into "Papa's" lap. One nuzzles his cheek. Another leans a small head on his shoulder. A third throws her arms around his neck. Anna, "the talkative one," is admonished gently not to speak while her father is doing an interview. She nestles closer. He tells her she can stay if she promises to be quiet. Her brows knit. Brett teases, "You can't do it, can you?" She answers in a lilting Russian cadence. "I cannot do it," she agrees.

As soon as Anna, 11, vacates the lap, her brother Vas, 10, takes her place. "When," he asks in slightly impatient halting English, "do we go home?" They and sister Olya, 12, are visiting their one-time "host" home on 2nd Street, where the three spent four weeks five months ago, hoping a Pleasanton family might want to adopt them.

Anna, Olya and Vas, reportedly from a well-to-do Russian family, were orphaned when they lost, first their father, then their mother. The three spent almost a year-and-a-half in a Russian orphanage. Brett describes orphanage conditions as "very old, very poor," but adds that Russian caretakers "are dedicated. The children love them."

Vivian Henig, upon learning three orphaned Russian children needed a host family, retired from her job to take them in - despite having raised four children herself as a single parent. Now married, Henig and her husband Bruce made it their mission to find a permanent home for the three, taking them around, she remembers, to "every congregation in Pleasanton." When the Stovers showed up to "take a look" at a "get acquainted" event at a Danville park, Vivian spotted them and told her husband, "They're the ones. They're the parents."

The Stovers thought so, too, and called the very next day. As Brett picks up the story of the couple's decision to adopt, Anna and Olya interject, "Doctor say no children." Stover confirms he and Tamara, 10-years married, were told, no children of their own. The two had begun to consider adopting a child from Russia when they saw "those faces staring out at us from the paper. We were hooked," Brett remembers, smiling.

Going from "zero to three" kids was an adjustment, he admits. Joking with them, Stover fakes a frown. "And Papa says, no MORE children."

But, as the well-worn adoptive mother's saying goes: "Born not under my heart but in it," these three are, today, completely "Stover." Olya, Brett relates, is "more reserved, the most sensitive," motherly toward her siblings. Anna "makes friends with everyone. Hugs everybody," and Vas, "is just like any other boy." Brett plays ball with his son and takes him to A's games. "He loves everything like that," dad said, fondly.

To acclimate to their new country, all three children entered Donlon Elementary's total immersion English-only classes. In the meantime, the Stovers bought CDs and started learning Russian.

With post-its and flash cards, the children "learned one English word a day," Brett reports. And, although the girls worried they might be teased when they started school, "The school was great," said dad. "Girls swarmed them" - plying them with questions, gifts and pencils.

One of the hardest parts, Brett relates, was having to send the three back to the orphanage until the adoption could be finalized. It took six months and two trips to Russia.

Once home in Pleasanton, Tamara and Brett celebrated a belated Christmas with their new brood, took a leave of absence from their jobs, and helped the children establish new routines for sleeping and eating.

In the orphanage, most meals were soup. Even now, none of the three has any taste for meat. The Stovers have located a Russian store - the European Deli in San Ramon - and make an effort to cook meals that taste like "home" to their new children.

Communication can still be tricky, particularly if an emotional child tries to explain what's wrong in rushing Russian. Adoptive parents are cautioned not to push children to tell how, for example, they lost their folks, which for many is a sad and painful story.

On the bright side, the three "love school," their dad reports, and, this summer, have been attending English Development Summer School. Clearly bright, it's likely it won't be long before they catch up with classmates. Right now, they're two years behind but, outgoing and curious, they've "progressed very fast," their father said proudly.

Brett and Tamara make a point of periodically separating the three. Each has spent time alone with a grandparent or with Henig. And the Stover adults make time for themselves. Brett explains, "It's the strength of that relationship that keeps all this together."

His advice for would-be adoptive parents? "If you're sure you want to do this, don't give up. (With International adoption) there's a lot of ups and downs before you make it through.

"It was definitely the hardest thing my wife and I have ever done. But it is definitely worth it in the end."

And now - two more

How Nastya, 6, and Dasha, not quite 8, were orphaned isn't entirely clear. All that's known is that they and a 12-year-old brother have been in a Russian orphanage for about a year.

Their brother, terrified by Russian tales that "Americans are taking children and harvesting their body parts" ran away rather than go with his sisters to America, reports Debbie Hoeven, Northern California volunteer for KidSave, an organization that helps facilitate international adoptions.

Nastya and Dasha "cried when they learned that he was not coming, especially Nastya," Dasha shares, through interpreter Mara Geine. Dasha adds that the two have been told "he will be found and brought here."

Host "mother" Vivian Henig indicates that may or may not happen - the boy is now with a biological grandparent and all involved agreed "not to force him." If his fears are allayed and he does come, the three will be offered together for adoption.

Nastya admits she was "a little bit afraid" when the plane took off. "First it started slow," she remembers, "then it went up and up!" Although it's been little more than a week since the two completed their 15-hour trip from Moscow - "too long" reports Dasha - they seem to already be adjusting.

The girls marvel at Henig's "beautiful house," (Dasha) and "beautiful car" (Nastya). They can't believe that they can eat as many eggs as they like. In the orphanage, an egg is a treat and rarity.

Hoeven acknowledges that the Russian adoption process can be laborious. Too, children may arrive with attachment issues and, having felt abandoned, find it difficult to bond. Exposure in the womb to drugs or alcohol and subsequent neurological problems are a risk as well, just as with babies born in this country.

It's a leap of faith when you adopt one of these children," Hoeven said. "There's a lot you have to work through."

But, she adds, "These kids are so resilient, all of the kids. What they've gone through in their short lives makes me cry." Hoeven, herself, has two children she adopted from Russia - a then-9-year-old girl, and an unrelated then-15 1/2-year-old boy.

Hoeven cautions, "It's not for the faint of heart." But, like Brett Stover, who, with wife Tamara, adopted three Russian siblings five months ago, she agrees, "It's so worth it." -Carol Bogart
To learn more about KidSave call (707) 751-0839 or visit www.kidsave.org. To learn how to become acquainted with Dasha and Nastya, call Vivian Henig at (925) 398-8447.

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