JOURNEY TO OUR DAUGHTER

In May 2000, Steve and I decided to build our family through adoption. While surfing the Internet, I stumbled across a web site written by a couple who had adopted two baby girls from the former Soviet Union country of Ukraine. The couple spoke of a woman from Florida named Cathy Harris who, after an unpleasant adoption experience, learned how to adopt in Ukraine without paying for the services of an adoption agency. Ms. Harris was, without personal gain, helping others find their "forever children" by guiding them through the adoption paperwork process and arranging for their adoption facilitators and translators in Ukraine.  Utilizing the help of Ms. Harris was not only considerably less expensive than employing the services of an adoption agency but also allowed the couple adopting to be "the captain of their own ship," so to speak, in making the adoption happen. After several years of pursuing other avenues that left us feeling powerless and frustrated, being in charge of our own adoption was extremely appealing.

Unfortunately, all the paperwork and legwork involved was daunting. The more I read about the process, the harder it seemed. Could we do it? Nothing good in life comes easy, so we plunged ahead.

Ukraine is different from most countries in that you do not pre-select your child. Pre-selection was outlawed several years ago in an effort to prevent corrupt adoption practices.  We would travel to Ukraine, visit orphanages, and select our child from those available for adoption. Or perhaps a child would select us? Steve and I liked the sound of this.

In December 2000, we embarked upon six months of what I fondly refer to as "Paperwork Hell." First is the homestudy process, where both you and your financial picture are placed under a "microscope."   Following that, there are numerous documents to gather, countless notarizations, county stamps, and finally state seals on the dossier, which is the compilation of all the documents essential for the adoption.   It was no small feat, with hours and hours spent checking, re-checking, and redoing documents until they were perfect.  In June 2001, the Secretary of State's office gave its official blessing to our dossier.  Soon after, we set a travel date of August 5, 2001. We were on our way!

August 4: We are packed into two, large rolling duffel bags and one backpack each. Who knows how much to take because we've no idea how long we'll be in Europe. The average trip is three weeks, but a four or five week trip is possible, with one of us remaining in Ukraine and the other returning home early.   I am in tears as I take our dog Tillie to the kennel and feel sad to leave our three cats behind for who-knows-how-long?   The big day is almost here, and the adrenaline is pumping.   I'm a bundle of nerves and trying to hold it all together.  There are so many unknowns ahead of us. Have we lost our minds?

August 5: Our friend Kaye takes us to the airport. Since Ukraine is primarily a cash-only society, Steve and I have our money divided equally between us in money belts worn under our clothing. The wad of cash is so thick I look four months pregnant.  I have to wear a pair of pants I didn't plan to take along because it's the only pair that will halfway disguise my bulging stomach.  We are a bit in shock and numb now the day is finally here. Off we go.

We fly through Detroit, Amsterdam, Holland, and many hours later on August 6 we arrive in Kiev, Ukraine. Our luggage has all made it! Valentina, our translator for the next few weeks, is there to meet us, along with our driver, Sergey. Valentina, who is attractive with red hair and fair skin,  just turned 25 last month.    We are putting our lives and our future into this young stranger's hands for the next few weeks.   We eat dinner in a café and get acquainted. Our adoption homestudy approved us for two children ages newborn to four, but we tell Valentina we hope to adopt a two- or three-year-old girl. She cautions us there are no girls available right now and not to count on it. Boys are much easier to adopt, she says. We make it very clear to her we are not leaving Ukraine without our daughter.

The gold-domed buildings and many statues in Kiev are magnificent, and we find ourselves in a country steeped in history. However, this trip is no vacation.

Valentina takes us to our hotel to get some sleep. Our room is on the 10^th floor, with a balcony and view of the city. The room is neat and clean but so small we spend the evening tripping over our luggage. It is unseasonably hot in Ukraine. We've no A/C and no phone. The bathroom is strange, and it takes me five minutes to figure out how to flush the toilet. There are two single beds with sheets that are basically sleeping sacks. We've no idea how to use them, and we are so tired, we simply crash.

August 7: Valentina and Sergey take us to the national adoption center in Kiev to meet Mrs. Kunko, the woman in charge of all adoptions in Ukraine. It is 87 steps up to her office, but who's counting? Mrs. Kunko has a reputation for being tough but we give her flowers and find her to be a kind woman, although we don't understand a word she is saying until Valentina translates. We look at many books of children. All we have to go on is the child's photograph and birth date, which is the only thing we can decipher from the Russian Cyrillic. It seems every child we show Valentina was born in 1992 or is very sick, and after an hour of canvassing the books with no prospects, we are upset and frustrated. Finally, Valentina shows us photos of two girls under the age of three. One has a head that has grown too large for her body, and the other one has been diagnosed with epilepsy. Valentina urges us to travel to a region by the Black Sea to meet them. We are hesitant, but we also know children are frequently misdiagnosed in this country. Soon we are in the car with Val and Sergey making the seven-hour journey. The children's medical diagnoses bothers us. We're not sure what we can handle, but we also know all children need parents to love and care for them. I try to sleep through the car ride so I don't have to think about it.

We arrive in the region late at night. Our room has a bedroom, sitting room, and not one but two strange and slightly less than glamorous bathrooms. The toilet paper consists of a few pieces of brown paper, but thankfully we brought our own. The room has a small refrigerator and at last we can have a cold Coke. We cannot drink the water here, so a drink with ice, which is hard to find anyway, is out of the question. So far the trip is depressing. We're not feeling hopeful about finding our child in this region and begin talking about the "what ifs." Sleep is restless.

August 8: Valentina tries to obtain local permission for us to see the two girls at the baby house, which is what an orphanage for children ages four and under is called. We meet with the medical director of the baby house, but she cannot let us see the children until we have approval. She does, however, tell us the girls are healthy, and we begin to feel hopeful. Val drops us off at a café while she and Sergey go in search of the approval. She leaves us for a long time, and we are nervous she has left us for good.

When Val finally arrives she brings good and bad news. The good news is we will probably receive approval to see the children. The bad news is the chief director of the baby house is on vacation and is also under investigation for corruption. The children, even if we get to see them, may not be available for adoption until September because the alleged corruption must be investigated. We have dinner with Val and Sergey, and Val leaves early to meet with a judge. She is supposed to be gone only an hour or two but at 1:00 a.m., she is still not back at our hotel. We are feeling increasingly nervous about her and try to use the hotel phone because we want to call back to the States for reassurance. We can't figure out the phone and sleep uneasily once again that night. Can we trust our translator?  

Soon there is unbelievably loud music and a party in the courtyard below our bedroom window. It is so loud we are vibrating. We throw on clothes and pull out our Russian-English dictionary. It takes me a half-hour, but I finally write down words I hope will explain our complaint to the hotel clerk. No one knows English anywhere we go, and the only people we can talk with are Valentina and each other. It's very unsettling at times. Luckily, I must have selected the correct words from the dictionary because the desk clerk understands our problem and soon the incessant beat in the courtyard below ends. Sleep at last.

August 9: We awaken frustrated and worried but hopeful today will be a better day. Valentina comes to our room at 8:00 a.m. to tell us her meeting the night before didn't obtain approval to see the children. She is as frustrated as we are and says by 10:00 a.m. she will return to us with or without the approval. If we don't get it, we will cut our losses and try to move on to another region two hours away, without first having to travel the seven hours back to Kiev to obtain the approval. Val asks us for a $100 "expedite" fee before she leaves, and we sit in our hotel room and wait. As the hours pass, we become more and more nervous and upset. We have no food, can't figure out the telephone, have no access to Internet, and feel powerless. We worry she has taken our money and run, although we have not yet paid her the full fee, and left us stranded in a strange country.   We go back and forth between trusting and not trusting, and it is driving us crazy. 

At 3:00 p.m., we can wait no more and devise a plan for Steve to take a taxi, find a phone and Internet, and call back to the States for help. We're not sure how he'll do this since he doesn't speak a lick of Russian, but we have to try. I'll stay at the hotel with the luggage and in case Valentina ever returns. Just as we are about to reluctantly separate, Val shows up, five and a half-hours late. We want to throttle her but are so relieved to see her. She comes bearing good news! Val had to practically move heaven and earth, but she obtained the approval for us to see the children. We run out to the car and are overjoyed to see our driver and friend Sergey, who is ready to take us to the baby house. Sergey speaks very limited English, but we made a good connection with him from the beginning and think the world of him. He's a former history teacher who makes more money driving people like us. Off we go to the baby house!

We meet with the medical director, Ludmilla, who is standing in for the baby house director accused of corruption. She is shocked Val was able to obtain the approval for us to meet the children.  Ludmilla talks about the two girls, and Val translates here and there. We are taken to meet eight two-year-old toddlers who eat, sleep, and play together. When we enter the room and see the children, emotion overcomes us. Soon we'll make a decision that will significantly alter the lives of three people, and neither Steve nor I take this lightly. We quickly recognize Oksana and Nastya, the two girls we are there to see, from their photos at the adoption center. Oksana is two and a half, and Nastya is two months shy of her third birthday. Oksana won't stop crying and wants nothing to do with us. She obviously knows we are not her parents. Nastya, who supposedly had epilepsy but does not, checks us out briefly and then sits down on the floor to play with Legos. I sit on the floor, but she pays little attention to me. I move closer to her and hand her Legos one by one. Soon it is snack time, and we continue to watch her. She has the best appetite of the bunch and is the first one finished her snack. We can tell she is very proud that she knows how to clean up after herself and has learned all the routines expected of her. The caregivers describe her as clever and helpful to the other children. Her intelligence and spirit are apparent, and I see her as a flower that has yet to bloom. Something funny happens in the room while she is was drinking her milk, and she and I share a look and smile. This scrappy-looking, thin girl with an extremely short, bad haircut steals my heart in that instant. It is like I've been hit over the head with a two by four, and I know without a doubt this is my daughter. Steve and I continue to watch her and after awhile he asks what I think. I can barely nod and choke out the name "Nastya" in response, as I am once again in tears. Am I sure? Yes, I am sure!

Soon after, it's time for the children to play outside.   As we all go outside on our way to the playground, I kneel down, hold out my arms, and call her name. Nastya runs into my arms and holds on like she'll never let go. I hand her to Steve and she readily goes to him. Tears of happiness! Yes, this is the daughter we've been searching for. Soon it's time for us to end our visit and Nastya is inconsolable. In fact, all three of us are crying. We hate to leave her but will visit her again tomorrow.

We had traveled to Ukraine with the tentative name of  "Katerina Eugenia" for our daughter.  However, we both agree this is not the name for Nastya.  That evening Steve and I choose the name Nadia Anastasia. Anastasia is actually Nastya's given first name, with Nastya being the shortened version. Nadia sounds close to Nastya, and we feel the transition will go smoothly for her. Nadia means "hopeful" and Anastasia means "resurrection." This seems appropriate, and we are happy to preserve some of her heritage through her name. Sleep that night is difficult for the new mom, who lies in bed with much excitement and a thousand thoughts. 

August 10: Even though we've found our daughter, there remains a tremendous amount of paperwork before we can leave Ukraine with Nadia. Val does some of it today, and Steve and I do a lot of sitting and waiting. Sergey had to return to Kiev, so we are now riding in a series of cramped, hot, and noisy taxis with drivers we don't know who drive like NASCAR hopefuls. We eat lunch at a McDonald's, and the food tastes pretty close to the "Golden Arches" in the U.S. The highlight of the day is visiting Nadia, who comes running over as soon as she sees us and plops down on my lap with a sigh. We take gobs of photos, and she loves the Polaroid camera we brought along, quickly learning how to pull out the finished photos. The first clear and recognizable word she says is "Papa." Now doesn't that just figure? She loves mini-Oreos and is ticklish. When she's unhappy or doesn't get her way, her chin goes all the way down to her chest, and Steve says it is good thing she has a chest or her chin would be in her butt. We think she is quite the little actress.

We find an Internet café and e-mail home the good news we have found our daughter. Visits to Internet cafes are not frequent enough, since e-mail is the only connection we have to back home.   We still haven't figured out how to use a phone!  Even though the hardest part - finding our daughter - is over, there is so much left to do to make sure she really and truly becomes our daughter.  Our "other life" seems worlds away right now, and reading good wishes from family and friends bolsters our spirits. 

Today Valentina, Steve, and I move into a rented flat for the next week. It is the flat of the medical director's daughter and husband, who moved in with someone else so they could earn $20 a day rent. It is tiny but neat and clean, for which we are most grateful. The small refrigerator is practically empty. To take a hot shower, we must light a match in the wall heater in the kitchen. The beds in the two bedrooms are actually pull-out sofas. So far, living in Ukraine has proven to be just what the couples before us have described as "indoor camping."

August 11: All I can think of is getting our daughter home. We are constantly looking at the Polaroids we took of her when we are not with her. We visit Nadia early in the day, and the first thing she yells when she sees us is "Mama!" Wow! Val draws an outline of Nadia's foot so we can buy her shoes. As usual, we all cry when our daily visit ends.

Val haggles with shopkeepers in the open market for good prices, and we buy cute little dresses, shoes, undergarments, stuffed animals, toys, and books. Young children must wear hats when they are out in public, so we buy several of those, too. We go out for a pizza, and Val forgets to tell the waitress to skip the mayonnaise and corn (Yes, Ukrainians put this on their pizza!) so we wind up eating around it. Two skinny stray cats find me, and they don't leave hungry. I've been feeding a good deal of the stray animal population of Ukraine.  We had originally been excited about the prospect of trying new foods, but we've discovered the food in Ukraine isn't much to our liking.   We are beginning to dread mealtime.

There are no good words to express how difficult this trip is. While the country is beautiful in many ways, the people have so little, and it is truly depressing. Our greatest fear in the beginning was we would not find our daughter and would return home without her. Now Steve and I continue to struggle with the language barrier, lack of power, difficult living conditions, and the nagging fear something will go terribly wrong before the adoption is final. It is always up to one of us to boost the spirits of the other.

August 12: We visit Nadia, who runs to us with outstretched arms. Today is Steve's turn to get emotional. Sometimes our emotions run so deep we don't know what to do with them -- whether to bust with happiness or burst out crying. This little girl has stolen our hearts, but we are sad to leave the other children behind. All of them are so sweet and beautiful.   I do not think I will ever forget their precious faces. 

Two stray dogs trot by, and our daughter suddenly springs to action. She puts her hands on her little hips, stomps her foot, and yells in Russian, "You get out of here, dogs!" We all burst out laughing. Whatever will she think of our dog and three cats? At the end of the visit, we wonder how many more times we can bear to say good-bye to Nadia.

Our special treat this afternoon is a visit to the Black Sea. It has been so hot in Ukraine, and the water feels glorious. Before we leave there, I experience my first "hole in the floor" bathroom where there are two blocks for the positioning of your feet. I take a photo.

August 13: Val runs all over the city doing paperwork, and Steve and I shop for Nadia and souvenirs and have lunch. Much to our delight, our order taker at McDonald's knows English! An eleven-year-old boy engages us in conversation, as he wants to try out the English he is learning in school. He is quite fascinated by us. Americans stick out like sore thumbs in Ukraine, and try as you may there is just no good way to blend in. We receive plenty of stares throughout our trip.

We have another great visit with Nadia and the other children, with yet another tearful good-bye at the end of the visit. Steve is taking these good-byes even harder than I am.

August 14: I awaken just as the sun is coming up and spot a babushka (old woman) sweeping the sidewalk in the courtyard below. Another day in Ukraine. While Val picks up paperwork sent from Kiev by train, we visit Nadia at the baby house for three whole hours! We have a ball playing with all eight children, who love it when Steve throws them up in the air. I pull leaves off tree branches and stick them behind the children's ears. They cannot get enough of this, and I'm not sure if it is the leaves or the attention. Little Oksana has finally warmed up to us, and I cry because she will not be going home with us.   I hope and pray a family comes for her soon.  We've got to get Nadia out of here soon before our hearts break in two.

After leaving the baby house, we dress up in good clothes and go to court, since today is the day we officially become Nadia's parents. The man is "king of the castle" here in Ukraine, so Steve is required to stand and speak first before the judge and then it'll be my turn. Valentina translates. The usually unruffled Steve is a nervous wreck during the questioning. The judge asks me if anything my husband told him is incorrect, and I answer "yes." I can hear an intake of breath in the courtroom as they all wait for my explanation. I smile and tell the judge we have been married almost nine years, not ten, as Steve has told him. What I really want to say is "I'm sure to my husband it sometimes feels like ten years," but I don't know if the judge has a sense of humor. It turns out he does because he laughs when I make the correction. The judge waives the 30-day waiting period which, had it not been waived, would have meant one of us would have to remain in Ukraine while the other returned home. At the end of the proceedings, the judge shakes our hands, and Steve and I hug each other and cry like fools. We are now officially the parents of Nadia Anastasia Kennedy. Jumping for joy!  It is an incredible feeling!

August 15: Sergey has driven the seven hours from Kiev to take us to the city where Nadia was born to obtain her birth certificate. It's two hours away and a depressed little town where we are eyed suspiciously by the townspeople, many of whom may have never seen an American. A man selling dead fish won't let me take his picture, and he shoots me dirty looks the whole time we are in the open market. It takes forever to get the birth certificate and some candy, flowers, and money finally make it happen. We leave this city none too soon. Back "home," we have a decent meal and an honest-to-goodness, ice-cold bottle of Coca-Cola. Unfortunately, we arrive at the baby house too late in the day, and the gates are locked. There will be no visit with Nadia today, and we feel deflated.

August 16: Today is a big day for the Kennedys because it is the day we no longer have to say good-bye to our Nadia! We are taking her out of the baby house for good! Nadia is waiting for us on a couch, wearing only a pair of underpants we must leave behind. Basically, our daughter is coming to us naked. I dress her in the clothes we've brought, including the hat required for small children when they are outdoors. Nadia is quiet and looks a little confused, and a couple of the caregivers are teary-eyed. Luckily, the rest of the children are napping. I don't think Steve and I could handle saying good-bye to the seven other sweet children we are leaving behind. Val takes our first family photo in front of the baby house.   We walk down the steps of the baby house, and Nadia never looks back.

We begin the long journey to Kiev, and Nadia stays awake for almost the entire trip. She is fascinated by all she sees and likes viewing it from the vantage point of Papa's knee. There are no car seats or seatbelts in Ukraine. Nadia is such a delight and smiles and laughs throughout the entire trip.   She must be saying cute things, because Val and Sergei will look at each other when she speaks and then smile and laugh.  We arrive in Kiev at 11:00 p.m., totally exhausted. We upgrade our hotel room to one with an almost-American bathroom, bedroom, and a sitting room with refrigerator. We push a loveseat next to Mama's bed, and our daughter sleeps well her first night with us.

August 17: Our first morning waking up with Nadia! We take her to breakfast, play with her in the room, and Papa buys her a cute little wind-up toy in the hotel lobby. We go to a medical clinic for Nadia's required physical. She weighs 21 pounds. We stop at the national adoption center to show off our new daughter to Mrs. Kunko. Unfortunately, the food change has affected Nadia, and our little girl is not feeling well. Thank God we brought medicine and pullups from the U.S. We tell Val we do not wish to move into another flat but will pay extra to stay in the hotel. The set-up of our room works well for us, and we don't want our daughter to have to move again.

August 18: Nadia had a rough night but seems on the road to recovery. We shop for souvenirs at the famous Andreyevsky Street open market. Later in the day, Val informs us she must journey to see her parents as there is some family problem. We stay close to the hotel and are fine with this since there is an English translation on the hotel menu. We enjoy the time alone with our new daughter and take her for a long walk, to a playground, and to a children's store to buy more clothes. She adores one of the hats we bought her and insists on wearing it everywhere. We are loving our new daughter to pieces.

August 19: We find ourselves in the middle of a dress rehearsal for Ukraine's ten-year anniversary celebration of their independence from the Soviet Union, which occurs in just a few days. Nadia becomes cranky, and we discover she's still having trouble with her diet change. I'm in and out of cramped public bathrooms at an exhausting pace. To exacerbate the problem, the baby house pottied the children on the hour, and Nadia is still programmed for that. I am constantly running for restrooms and thinking "on the road" is just no way to begin motherhood. Earlier in the morning, I noticed my right eye is bloodshot, and it worsens as the day goes on. By nightfall, I'm feeling a lot of pain.

Our daughter cries for the first time since she has been with us. We'd been a little concerned she hadn't cried and are relieved for this normal behavior. We are weary of our current lifestyle - parenting our new daughter in taxis, hotels, and restaurants - and hope to get a flight out of here soon.

August 20: We go to the U.S. Consulate to complete paperwork that will allow us to leave Ukraine with Nadia. The consulate has A/C, a large, clean bathroom, play area for Nadia, and people who speak English! We meet another adopting couple we'd met on the plane from the U.S. to Ukraine. The baby is in a snuggly on her new mom and appears to be about a year old. When I ask how old she is, the couple tells us she is 3 1/2. We try not to show our shock. She is much smaller than Nadia and severely malnourished. We know with love and nutrition this little girl will prosper, but we silently thank our lucky stars Nadia is the picture of health.

Steve and Val go to the travel agent to check on flights and find one leaving in a few hours. We hustle to lunch, and Nadia eats her first McDonald's cheeseburger. The airport and customs are a mess with people butting in line, and despite the language barrier, Steve has words with a man who tries to jump in front of us. Nadia has to potty, and we miraculously make it through the line and to a restroom in the nick of time. It's hot, we're sweaty, and we just want the heck out of Ukraine. My infected eye is killing me. A kind flight attendant holds Nadia on the bus to the plane and makes sure we're the first to board. On her very first plane ride, our Nadia is an excellent little flyer.

After a short layover in Amsterdam, we're on a plane to Warsaw, Poland, where we must stay for a few days while we obtain Nadia's VISA. The four-star Warsaw Sheraton comes highly recommended by others who have adopted before us. Compared to the "indoor camping" of the last two weeks, our room is luxurious, with coconut candies on our pillows and white, terrycloth robes laid out for us. Oh, how we need to be pampered!

Today Nadia learned how to kiss, and we receive our first kisses from our new daughter!

August 21: This is a day of relaxation because our appointment at the U.S. Embassy is not until tomorrow. Warsaw is somewhat Americanized, and communication is slightly easier. My eye is still infected and, to top it off, I have pulled a leg muscle and am limping much of the time.   We eat dinner in the oriental restaurant in our hotel, under the "supervision" of the restaurant manager, who engages us in conversation the entire time.  We think he either wants to be our new best friend or is practicing his English!   Nadia eats her first ice cream so fast it goes straight to her head.   Too funny to watch her puzzled expression and hand holding her head.  She is such an angel and amazes us with all she is learning.

August 22: In the morning we go to the U.S. Embassy for our appointment. We meet other couples who have adopted from Ukraine and admire their children. We hire a taxi driver to give us a nickel tour of Warsaw. It is a beautiful city with many old and magnificent buildings. Nadia's loses the beloved baby doll we gave her the day we took her out of the baby house, so we find a similar one and hope she doesn't notice the difference. A friend from the U.S. who adopted from Ukraine just before us surprises us with a phone call, and it's the first phone conversation I've had with anyone in almost three weeks.   It is great to hear her voice!

August 23: Today we are finally going home! We fly from Warsaw to Amsterdam and find out our flight to Memphis has been cancelled. Steve manages to get us flights into Detroit. The flight is a long and unpleasant one, although Nadia is a great little traveler. In fact, I think she is holding up better than her old parents are.  We reach Detroit at 9:15 p.m. and once Nadia's feet touch American soil, she becomes a US citizen. We are exhausted but elated! She will have dual citizenship until she is 18. On the short flight from Detroit to our home airport, the three of us finally crash, and we wake up upon landing, just before midnight. I quickly change Nadia into fresh clothes so she can greet her new family and friends in style.  My mother, father, Kaye, Deb, and Betty are waiting for us when we walk into the airport, with Betty filming our arrival. Nadia sleeps through the entire, very emotional homecoming. Our "Ukrainian Princess" continues to sleep through the car ride home and is still fast asleep when we put her in bed.   She is so exhausted we simply remove her shoes and let her sleep in her dress.  After everyone else has retired for the night, Steve and I sit on our porch feeling like we are in the "Twilight Zone." So much has transpired over the past few weeks. We were in Europe for 19 days. I tell Steve I think our house is a palace. There's no place like home.

August 2004 Update: Nadia has adjusted beautifully to her new home and life. She is happy, healthy, extremely friendly, and never meets a stranger. Steve and I have no family here, but our friends and other people in this county have reached out to our daughter and more than make up for it.  While she may still be somewhat developmentally behind by virtue of being an orphan, Nadia has mastered the English language and continues to learn in leaps and bounds on a daily basis.   She began kindergarten this month.  Not a day goes by Steve and I do not count our blessings for this incredible child who has filled our lives with love, laughter, and happiness. Nadia was without a doubt meant to be our daughter. I feel like all the pieces of the puzzle of our lives have finally been put together into a perfect fit. We're a family now. Life just doesn't get any better than this.