The alien stood cautiously in the doorway, the body blurred by the light in the room behind it. The scene replayed a hundred times through my mind, each time with a different ending. If I moved first, would it run the other way, leap into my arms or burst into tears? A whole night passed this way as sleep eluded my brain, numbed by the never ending "clickity-clack" of the train racing through the frozen Russian night.

As a soon to be adoptive parent, what should you feel or how should you react during that "first encounter"? We had called plenty of adoptive couples and asked them this question. Most seemed to think the question was a bit odd; most already had children and had not been terrified-I was. Most just said they cried-they were so happy when they first saw their child. For the first time in my life, I felt wholly inadequate.

The objective of our trip was a six-year-old girl and a five-year-old boy in Kotlas, Russia. The children's home workers were professionals at getting parents and children together. Two workers and the children were in a large room. As we approached the door, one of the workers began to forcefully propel our daughter through the doorway towards my wife. You could not help but notice the skid marks behind this little girl with locked arms and legs, and averted eyes. My wife uttered an "Ah..." as she bent over to meet our daughter for the first time.

Unfortunately, this was also the exact moment when our new son was to shout, "Papa!" with a huge smile and arms spread wide as he leapt through the doorway. His knees clipped my wife's head, somersaulting him over the top of her. I dove forward to catch him, instead getting both of his feet in my groin. A tangle of arms and legs landed on the floor, where everyone was to burst into laughter. Except for "stick woman."

This introduction to our first children went far better than most of the nightmares I had envisioned on the train. As I played ball for the next two hours with our son, my wife sat holding "stick woman."

Eventually, she was able to get her to roll a ball on the floor and make weird grunting noises when she got excited. By the time we had left for our apartment, we were both very troubled. Our daughter refused to look at us, use anything resembling speech, and was obviously extremely traumatized. Our son was a sports nut. I barely know which end of a ball to throw. I could see God laughing.

The next day, my wife played with our son and I got "stick woman." By the end of our visit she would talk to me, "Blah blah blah..." I had no idea what she was saying, but at least she could talk, though she would instantly revert to stiff limbs if touched and still would not meet our eyes.

They have now been home with us for three years. "Stick woman" melted long ago and the most delightful little girl with brown eyes stole my heart. "V-Man," short for virtual man, still loves anything involving a ball and is very independent-right up until he needs you. I have been learning the rules for baseball but his fascination with it still eludes me.

Eighteen months later, we were ready for a second set of first encounters. This time we had no stress over meeting our two new daughters, ages seven and ten, though we could never have imagined how it was to go. Our agency's call with our adoption court date came while we were both down with pneumonia. A week later, we packed our medications, stumbled to the plane and headed once again for Russia. We arrived minus our luggage, which was to catch up with us the day before we returned to Moscow.

Unlike the variety of reactions we had received from our first two children, first contact was a little different with these two. We were ushered into a room, feeling like death warmed over, and the girls were brought to us. Both of them were very formal during introductions and then piled on to my wife's lap. I was left to spend the next several hours cleaning my nails while my wife's hair was braided and unbraided a thousand times. Oh, occasionally one of the girls would get pushed off my wife's lap by her sister and then come and sit with me for five seconds. But for me it was mostly total and complete rejection on their part.

There was no ball throwing, no "stick woman," just a comfortable acceptance with comparisons of cross- stitching patterns and techniques. It sounds almost idyllic were it not for the rest of the week devoted to the girls crying and refusing to be with us. We were to learn the girls, like us, had not been told everything. They were in shock at the thought of leaving Russia and their extended family. We did not even know there was a family and our translator would not tell us what was going on. Once in America, the transition of growing together as a family went well-for them and my wife. It took me a couple of months to receive notice and finally acceptance from them. They had to learn I was very different from their Russian father. I had to learn their past after they could speak English.

Four children, four first encounters. Each different, each difficult, and yet, each successful in its own way. I know now that I was not really stressed out at the thought of the first encounter, it was the thought of how do I create a relationship with this tiny total stranger. I feared that if I blew our first day together, we would have problems later on down the road.

Naturally, your initial meeting will not set the tone of your relationship together-not the first few months, not even the first year. Your flexibility, adaptability, and consistency will set the tone across time. As your relationship matures, you will go from either the delight or trauma of first contact into a trial period. Then you get to have a honeymoon period where everything is wonderful, then another trial period, maybe even another honeymoon period. Nowadays I can't tell the difference between how my children behave and those of my friends. We all seem to have the same issues for gender, age, and developmental level of the child.

Stressed at the thought of your first encounter with your new child? Don't be-just let it come as it may and anticipate the unexpected!

Chris Check is a very proud father of 4 older Russian children. He is teaching his girls about cooking and helping them learn the favorite recipes they remember from their Russian homes. He and his son are building a train layout. In his spare time, he works for Boeing Aircraft as a methodology consultant and project manager on computer-based new technology applications.

© Adoption Today

Credits: Chris Check