Ten years ago today, we touched down in St. Petersburg, Russia. Two days later, we became parents of two wonderful children, Hannah and Samuel. Most parents have stories of both the exhilaration and mind-numbing fear they experienced when they assumed responsibility for another human life (in our case, two lives).
Do you remember your first night with a newborn? Is he still breathing? Is she warm enough? Our first night with children took place on the midnight train from St. Petersburg to Moscow:
Igor, our driver, flung both bags and children into the van and whisked us off to the train station. Our tiny compartment felt like a sauna, thanks to an overzealous heater. Inside were two lower bunks with pull down upper-berths. The tiny aisle allowed only enough room for our luggage and Joyce. While straddling the two beds, John lifted Hannah onto the bunk by the window. Uncertain where to put Samuel and trapped by suitcases on her feet, Joyce stood frozen in the middle of our quarters.
As John stacked luggage to clear a place to stand, he noticed storage boxes underneath the bottom bunks. We could prop open the bed, throw blankets inside and presto-we had a crib! We tucked Hannah into the other lower bunk. She dozed off only after her excitement over the train trip succumbed to exhaustion. Samuel was ready for another bottle and a diaper change, which proved to be a challenge in the tight quarters. We finally tucked him back into his luggage box where he probably got the best night sleep of all of us.
We climbed into our top bunks, too hot to sleep. We snuck glimpses of the Russian countryside-farmhouse after farmhouse covered in snow, and then drifted off.
Chimes sounded, the hall lights brightened and a woman barked an offer of coffee or tea through our compartment door. “We’re almost there so we better get moving,” John said.
As soon as the train stopped, we heard a frantic knock on the door. John opened the door and began, “Hi, I’m John and . . .”
“We must hurry, the train won’t wait for you to unload,” said Larisa, our Moscow contact. Not wanting to explore more Russian countryside, we hurled everything into a container of some sort, grabbed the kids, and dashed off the train.
Check back next week for the rest of the story….