'It's what God wants'

The Florida Times-Union

Foreign adoption not for squeamish -- only stouthearted need apply

Author: Ann Hyman, Times-Union staff writer

Alex Andrew Lemen was born in Romania. He came to Orange Park almost a year ago, adopted by Suzi Lemen to be the longed-for brother of her two Romanian-born adopted daughters, Katie and Steffi.

He was 4 years old, but the size of a 2-year-old. He couldn't really talk. He wasn't potty trained. He had diarrhea and a double-ear infection. He had crossed eyes and needed glasses, which he smashed, three pairs. He needed dental work.

"And he was absolutely wild," Lemen recalled. "He would run from room to room, open every door, slam it, hit, bite. He was like a little wild animal. At first, I thought this will go away after a week. But it didn't."

And consider that on a pre-adoption evaluation, this child had been described by a Romanian adoption worker as "quiet and wise."

Adoptions of foreign-born children are no longer unusual in the United States. Along with the children coming to America, however, are horror stories of families and individuals irretrievably disrupted by children who acted out the damage done to them by years of institutional neglect, imprisoned in caged cribs in eastern Europe or tied to potty chairs in China.

Inevitably, Lemen wondered if she had made a mistake to add a third child to the relative peace and order of her life with the girls.

"With this kid, it's like, will he ever fit in?" she said, recalling the early days' doubts and disruption.

Lemen, who is single, is head of Dynamic Corporate Solutions Inc., a consulting firm that provides and facilitates training services for corporations. She's used to looking for consensus, and her family agreed on Alex.

"The girls wanted a brother, and you try to save as many kids as you can. But the jump from two children to three is a whole new ballgame," Lemen said.

Only 8-year-old Katie, who came to the United States in 1991, stuck with Alex from the beginning, never gave up. Lemen had her doubts, and 6-year-old Steffi, who was adopted in 1994, was jealous of him and quickly tired of his tantrums, which simply didn't go away.

"The fall was like a nightmare. For a month, six weeks, he was still incorrigible, just wild, malicious, hitting and kicking, aggressive. That's when you wonder," Lemen said. "But during the nightmare, you have a little progress. You've got to have the intestinal fortitude to stick it out. It's hard work. The girls were hard work but in a different way. This was emotionally hard work. There's no book to tell you what to do, no wonder working, no immediate results. And it's the stress of not knowing, is it going to get better? It was January or February before you'd say we were really bonded."

Bonding is a process, not a magic moment.

But there are moments in the process that Lemen keeps like small souvenirs of a long journey.

She remembers Alex in the backseat of her van, pitching a fit. Howling, crying.

His sister calmly interpreted: His behavior meant that he wanted a hamburger, he wanted to turn into the McDonald's drive-through.

"Now you know he's really made it," Lemen said. "He recognized the golden arches. Every day something like that happens. I think we've weathered the storm, but it wasn't fun."

Alex has finally joined his family, he's becoming a son, a brother, an American.

His mother describes him, today, as "lovable and huggable."

The Lemens, it would appear, are going to make it.

But families adopting children from other countries are confronting similar challenges.

To adopt a foreign-born child costs at least $12,000 and sometimes as high as $20,000, according to an adoption worker. It is also emotionally and physically challenging, even when there are no major crises for parents or children.

It's never easy.

Ann Mason, a Jacksonville woman, heads PREVENT, an alcohol and drug education program used by the Navy to teach personal responsibility. Nine months ago, she adopted three Russian sisters: Aleksandra, 10; Katerina, 8; and Anastasia, 7.

She saw the girls for the first time on the Internet.

"I contacted the agencies. They were not sure Russia would place three children with a single parent, but in three days, I got the word back that would not be a problem. July 12, last year, I got video of the girls," Mason said.

They had been in an orphanage in a rural area southeast of Moscow for two years.

She went to Russia to bring the girls home.

"I was overcome. It was a room in the orphanage, maybe a social room, where they might do some special entertaining and the senior counselor was there, the translator was there, a representative from the Ministry of Education that handles the adoptions was there. The coordinator who was working with me in Russia was there, another representative from the orphanage. My brother was there. We were just sitting in this room and they went to get the girls and they walked in and I remember just looking at them and I literally . . . I don't think I've ever been speechless and I was. I worked very hard at not crying of happiness because I didn't know how they would interpret tears. Sasha [Aleksandra] immediately came up and put her arms around me . Katia stood next to her. Anastasia also stood there but was much quieter." Mason told the story carefully, savoring each word that recalled that day.

It was nine hours from Moscow to New York, another five hours before the new family landed in Jacksonville.

Family and neighbors welcomed them with banners and teddy bears.

"I've had wonderful, wonderful support from friends and family," Mason said.

The transition from Russian orphanage to an American household hasn't always been easy for the girls or their mother.

Language was a frustration for all of them, especially as the older two girls began school.

"Temper tantrums were common in the beginning. It seems to me to express their frustrations when there's no common language. Screaming, yelling, some kind of acting out," Mason said.

"I'd be remiss saying I didn't have any problems. There were certainly adjustments we went through," she said. "There were times I was very overwhelmed."

But she never expected that it would be easy.

"A couple of weeks ago, my mother and I looked at each other and we said, `When was it that these girls were not here?' " Mason said.

The question was rhetorical.

Tedi and Don Hedstrom were told the 5-month-old Chinese girl they were adopting was robust and healthy, but when they went to China in October 1995 to pick her up, they found her near death.

She had been diagnosed with hepatitis. But of more concern was the fact that she was suffering malnutrition ". . . and because of it had an enlarged liver and spleen," Tedi Hedstrom said. "She had lice and scabies. She had been fed rice water for the first five months of her life.

"Developmentally, she couldn't even hold her head up."

The baby, Victoria, gained 5 pounds the first week of formula, even though the formula was diluted so that the change from rice water to formula would not be overwhelming to her.

The Hedstroms are the birth parents of three boys and wanted to enlarge the family to include girls.

They had hoped to adopt two Chinese girls, but that did not work out when they went to claim Victoria.

But they had also been attempting a domestic adoption -- and that did work out. So the Hedstrom family adopted another little girl born on the same day as Victoria. Her name is Elizabeth. The girls, who have been together since before their first birthdays, see themselves as twins. Never mind the technicality that they did not share the same womb and obviously do not look alike.

In fact, Victoria has begun to notice that she does not look the same as any of her siblings or the other children at Sunday school and in the neighborhood.

"So, I thought, it's time for another Asian daughter," Tedi Hedstrom said.

She and her husband went to Vietnam and found two little girls, best friends who are 9 and 10 years old, who will join the family in a few weeks.

Tedi Hedstrom is a booster of international adoption.

She gathered about 30 families into Families with Children from China, which gradually transformed into Children from Asia, and includes children from Vietnam, India and other Asian nations as well as China.

A year and a half ago, she established

, and she has facilitated about 40 adoptions. Currently, she is working with 60 clients who are looking for children looking for families.

"For me, it's a ministry. I just really feel it's what God wants me to do," Tedi Hedstrom said.

Caption:

Photo Photos by Hope Kinchen/staff

1. Photo: (c) Sasha Mason, 10, argues with her mother, Ann Mason, about sharing makeup with her sister Anastasia Mason. Sasha, Katerina, 8, and Anastasia, 7, are from Russia. Ann Mason adopted the three sisters last summer.

2. Photo: (c) Steffi Lemen, 6, gives a thumbs up to a friend at St. Giles Presbyterian Church in Orange Park. Steffi and her sister Katie, 8, and brother Alex, 5, are from Romania and were brought to Orange Park by Suzi Lemen (left) who adopted them.

3. Photo: (c) Alex still needs help with basic things like feeding and getting dressed. Adopting a child from another country can be rewarding, but difficult, Suzi Lemen said.