The day after we got Errin, we were required to go to the local hospital and get the first of two HIV tests. I was nervous because HIV was high in newborns in Romania at the time. Because so many babies were born prematurely, and small for gestational weight they were given blood transfusions at birth. Medical professionals knew these blood transfusions had the ability to boost these low birth weight babies, and possibly even save their lives. However, by using dirty syringes, and not testing the blood for HIV/AIDS or other communicable diseases it put these newborn babies at a high risk for infection of these horrific diseases. We heard in some instances, they would take blood from an adult, and then using the same syringe inject that blood directly into newborn babies. Romanian birth mothers had poor nutrition, and no prenatal care during their pregnancies. This is what caused so many premature births, and severely underweight babies in Romania. Babies who are small for gestational weight never do catch up. Errin was supposedly two month premature, and small for gestational weight so she had two strikes against her when she was born.

We had been instructed to bring our own disposable syringes and take them to the hospital with us for these tests to make sure Errin didn’t get a used syringe. Due to the lack of supplies, syringes and medical supplies were used over and over again without being cleaned in between uses. Babies who tested positive for HIV and/or AIDS would not be given a VISA to enter the United States. We still had to complete the final court appearance for the Romanian portion of the adoption to be complete, but it was in the works. We had to stay in Galati until this was finished.

I remember praying so hard knowing Errin was much smaller at birth than we had originally been told. In fact after we returned home with her at six weeks old, she only weighed six pounds. Doctors here guess she only weighed around two pounds at birth. Because she was so tiny, I feared she had been one of those babies who had received a blood transfusion at birth. The U.S. government required two HIV/AIDS tests before they would issue a VISA to bring these children home with their adoptive parents. These tests had to be given with a minimum of a two week window in between each one, as it was possible to get a false negative on the first test. If the second test came back negative, we were free to apply for the VISA to come home. One thing I knew for certain, for Errin to survive the traumatic birth we were told she had, in addition to being so tiny with no advanced medical supplies or machines to keep her alive, I knew she was a fighter with a strong will to survive.

I had heard horror stories of the Romanian hospitals, but nothing could have prepared me for what I encountered as we walked in the door, and down the hallway to the exam room. Dogs were roaming the hallways. The exterior doors were propped open, and the animals wandered in and out freely. I’m guessing the doors were open, because the smell made my eyes water, and my tummy churn. A woman who had obviously just had some type of abdominal surgery, and not yet fully awake from the anesthetic was on a gurney in the hallway. She was being taken advantage of by a man, and being only partially awake from her anesthetic, was not able to fight him off. Val had gone with us that day, and he grabbed me by the arm and told me to just keep walking, there was nothing I could do to help this woman. I struggle to this day with the fact that people in this country suffered, and no one came to their rescue! The hallways were dark, even in the middle of the day. We continued on to a couple chairs sitting next to an open door to the exam room. The doctor was examining an older man, who looked to be homeless and had a terrible wet productive cough. The doctor used a tongue depressor on the man, and when finished, he placed it back in a cup to be re-used on the next patient – who turned out to be Errin. I was horrified. Val could see how upset I was, and told me to just do what they told me. Our turn finally came, and we went into the room. Nothing had been cleaned or wiped down from the previous patient. The sheet on the exam table was filthy with more unknown bodily fluids on it than I cared to know or look at. I had an extra receiving blanket with me, and quickly tried to lay it on top of the dirty exam table sheet. The doctor had a fit and started yelling at me. Val told me to just lay Errin on top of the dirty sheet and not to put the receiving blanket down on it first. I had planned to just leave it at the hospital. Val again grabbed my arm and quickly whispered in my ear that these people could write down anything they wanted on the report, and if I upset them, they would make something up making it impossible to get the VISA we needed to bring Errin home. He said, the doctor could easily say Errin had measles because of all the mosquito bites on her face, and that would be the end of it all. I said a quick prayer asking for Errin not to be affected by the dirty conditions. I laid Errin on the dirty sheet, and gave the doctor one of the syringes we had brought. He checked her over, and took the necessary blood to run the test. I handed him a clean band-aid after that. I then asked him for the syringe back, because I didn’t want it used on anyone else. He refused to give it to me as he put the cap back on the needle and slipped the syringe into his coat pocket. It was clear he was not happy with me. Val told us to go, and he would meet us outside. I’m guessing he gave the doctor some type of “gift” as an apology for upsetting him. These bribes were common and expected in every “legal” thing we did in regard to the Romanian government and medical professionals. This disgusted me, and I never asked about any of it because I didn’t want to know.

Dad and I made our way back down the hallway, past the woman on the gurney who was now alone and crying in pain with not a nurse or medical assistant in sight. I could hardly wait to get back to the apartment and wipe us all down with alcohol wipes and baby wipes. If the test was positive, we would not have to come back and Errin would have been deemed un-adoptable. If the test was negative, we would have to come back in two weeks, and have the test repeated one more time. I prayed she would survive the unsanitary conditions, and that her tests would all come back negative, which thankfully they did. Our second visit to the hospital was not quite as traumatic, but just as unsettling.

The next day Val took us to the court building to meet in front of the judge. Dumitra and her father were there as well, but they sat us on different sides of the room and we were not allowed to visit or speak with them. The judge was a stern woman, and the proceedings were quick. The hallways and rooms in this building were also dark. Light bulbs were a precious commodity, and not turned on unless absolutely necessary. Dumitra and her father left quickly, and I remember feeling a little sad that I might not ever see her again. Once again, Val told us to go outside and he would meet us there. More “gifting” took place, and then he met us at the car. Once again I turned a blind eye and didn’t ask any questions. I did ask if we would be able to go back to Bucharest and begin to finish up there. Val said, oh no, you must now wait the mandatory three weeks! What? I had not heard anything about this rule. During that three week time period, either party could change their mind. If Dumitra changed her mind, we would have to give Errin back and walk away. I didn’t know how I was going to hold out for three more weeks, especially with that shadow looming over our heads. I prayed time would pass quickly, and things would progress smoothly.

The first three days we had Errin, she was calm, quiet, content, and happy. Although the transition to the new formula I had brought was not agreeing with her little system. She had diarrhea, and was throwing up more than we could keep down her. One of these times, she vomited so much it covered my jeans. I had to wait until we had water, then washed them out in cold water, and changed into my only spare pair. With the humidity in Galati, my jeans took a solid week to dry. I pretty much had to wear the same clothes for the next two weeks. This was difficult for me. I’m a bit of a germ-a-phobe. I like to shower every day and put on clean clothes every day as well.

We tried everything we could think of to help Errin keep the formula down. Lucci had us try mixing it with rice water she boiled down for us. We tried mixing it with a tea made from mashed up leaves Elena went out and picked off a tree she said might work. She even found a couple bananas we tried mashing up to add to Errin’s formula. Nothing worked. I hoped and prayed for a miracle as we both got weaker and weaker over the next few days and weeks.

On the third day, Errin started screaming and nothing we did would soothe her. She didn’t appear to be in any pain, it was more of a frightened scream. We were at our whit’s end and couldn’t understand what had suddenly happened to this baby who had been so happy, calm and quiet for the past three days and nights. Rodika came and brought a bottle of pills. She told me to take a tablet, mash it up in a spoon, put some water in with it, and feed it to Errin. She said it would settle her down. I thanked her and she left. I studied the bottle and discovered it was phenobarbital, a drug used for seizure patients! I had a bad feeling and chose not to give it to Errin. I kept the bottle and tucked it into my suit case. Errin continued to scream night and day with no way of soothing or calming her down. Elena came and told us Errin had been given phenobarbital in the maternity hospital, that it was a common practice in the orphanages to keep the children quiet. She gave me another bottle and asked me if I had given it to her? I didn’t really give her a direct answer, but she said if I hadn’t given it to her, I should because she was obviously suffering from withdrawals of being taken off it. We later heard the orphanages were filled with drugged up, silent babies and children who looked at you with blank empty stares as they rocked in their crowded metal cribs to self soothe. I told her I wanted to get a call in to my pediatrician back home to see what his thoughts were. It took over a day to get in touch with him, but he told us under no circumstances were we to give Errin any more of that medication no matter how much she screamed. He told us it could actually cause her to start having seizures even though that is what it is meant to prevent in seizure patients.

Life got harder. Errin didn’t stop screaming for months after we got home even. And I continued to get sicker with my morning sickness. We were stuck in Galati, waiting out the adoption time period. It was cold, rainy, and mosquito infested. Then we ran into another glitch. Val came one day and was upset with me, asking if I had contacted Ron for the “Intent To Adopt” paper? I assured him Ron had done it the very day I called him and sent it “Overnight International Airmail”. Val said he had not received it at the address it had been sent to in Bucharest. Without it, we would not be able to get the VISA to bring Errin home once we got back to Bucharest. And then Errin would be a child without a country because she was no longer a Romanian citizen due to the Romanian adoption, and could not be taken to America without a VISA. He said he hoped it showed up before we returned to Bucharest.

Then we ran into another issue. For some reason, the adoption hit a snag in the final process. The Romanian Court was now requesting the birth mother’s original birth certificate. We had a certified copy of it, but had no way to acquire the original. It seemed every day, some kind of catastrophe presented itself. Val had to go somewhere else for a couple days and left us back in Nic and Rodika’s care.

Nic picked us up early the next morning and we drove to Branistea – pronounced Bra-knee-stee-uh. The small village where Dumitra lived. Val told us we had to go and get that original birth certificate, and not to come back without it. It was a long drive, much of it along the banks of the Danube River. We passed many buildings that had been reduced to rubble from an earthquake that hit Romania a couple years before. Nothing had been done to clean any of it up, and once again, the smells throughout the country were pungent. Many times as we drove to places we needed to go to get things in relation to the adoption, I was surprised at how vulgar some of the men were. Urinating openly on the side of the road, facing passing cars and exposing themselves even more as we drove by. I felt sorry for the women who were abused by them.

We passed by an old ferris wheel, and finally ended up in Branistea.

The roads were dirt, but due to recent rain were muddy. Branistea looked to be a small farming community. In one field we saw workers out using sickles and scythes.

In the field right next to them, we saw big fancy brand new shiny red tractors with all the necessary implements. We pointed at the two different ways of farming and asked Nic how the one got such a nice tractor, and the other used old hand tools? He pointed to the tractor and said “government”, then pointed to the people with the hand tools and said “no government”. Apparently the Romanian government was wealthy enough to purchase state of the art farm implements, while a large majority of their citizen were literally starving to death.

We saw more gypsies with their wagons pulled by horses.

We saw a large flat-bed farm truck filled with crates of live chickens.

We saw an old woman walking down the dirt road carrying two live chickens by their claws, upside down, in each hand.

Nic took us to the small village tribunal, or government building, but the people there told us we could not have the original birth certificate. No matter what Nic tried to say or do, the answer was no. He even sent me back outside and said he would be out soon. I guessed even the bribes or “gifts” didn’t work either.

As we were leaving dejectedly, all of a sudden Dumitra, her mother, her father, and her little brother came walking up the dirt road. Her father and little brother had brilliant sparky blue eyes. Dumitra looked so much better. She was wearing the clothes we had given her, and had gotten her hair cut and permed. Her mother pointed to her hair and her clothes to show me what they had done. I nodded and told her she looked nice.

She came and sat in Nic’s car with me for a little while, and I was able to get a good picture of her. The children in the village came and surrounded our car. They wanted us to take their pictures, and they wanted to be in the video my dad was taking. They didn’t understand the video was for moving pictures, so they stood so still and smiled at the video camera. We showed them how it worked, and it was obvious they have never seen anything like it before. It was soon time for us to leave, and I had a few packages of peanut M & M’s in my purse. I pulled them out to give them to Dumitra’s little brother, and suddenly I was mobbed by all the little kids. It scared me a little because they were pushing and grabbing, and I was afraid they were going to trample me to get the candy. I finally asked them to stop and motioned for them to get in a line. I handed the candy to Dumitra’s little brother and motioned for them all to share. They settled down, and things became orderly again. Nic was nervous and motioned for us to get in the car, it was time to go. Dumitra got out of the car, I gave her a hug and that was the last time I saw her.

A couple days later Val came and asked if we spoke Romanian. We laughed and said no, why? He said, then how are you communicating with my brother Nic so well? He’s telling me all these things about you guys. He doesn’t speak English, and you don’t speak Romanian, how are you understanding each other? We couldn’t answer his question, however, I believe Heavenly Father blessed us all with the gift of tongues to be able to communicate and understand through gestures and a constant game of charades. Whatever it was, it worked, and we grew to love Nic, Rodika, Elena, Lucci, Manole and Anthony during the time we spent in Galati.

We still hadn’t acquired the original copy of Dumitra’s birth certificate and had no idea how we would get it. We still had to wait the three week time period for the adoption, and the Intent To Adopt document had not arrived. But we continued to pray and move forward with hope and LIGHT, having faith that everything would miraculously work out . . . somehow. Check back as the story continues to unfold, there’s more to come . . .

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving this Thursday, we all have so much to be thankful for. These blessings bring LIGHT into our lives.

Love Ya, Les :)

Family

Chapter Nine : Still in Galati