17 
I can’t fully express what I was feeling that early morning. I had been waiting for twenty-two years to meet my birth parents, and in a few short hours I would be reunited with them. There was so much I wanted to say, but more than anything, I wanted to make sure my mother knew I wasn’t angry or upset at her for giving me up for adoption. I don’t know what I would have done as a teenager in her place, with no money, a disabled baby, and nowhere to stay if I kept her. I think she was really brave. I wanted her to know I forgave her and that I was grateful to her for giving me life.
We all packed into a van and, after a three-hour drive, arrived at my Russian family’s house. The NBC crew went inside ahead of me so they could set up cameras and equipment for the shoot. Hannah and I waited almost an hour in the van outside their house. It was torture. I had been waiting for what felt like forever for this moment. It was surreal and totally bizarre to be outside, knowing they were just yards away.
Finally Matt, the director from NBC, came back to the van and told me that when Hannah and I were ready, we could go and meet my family. The media was absolutely insane. Russia One news station had bodyguards guarding my parents’ property to keep the other stations’ reporters from getting too close. We had NBC cameras, Russia’s Channel One news cameras, and a bunch of other Russian reporters surrounding the property. There were even a couple of cameramen on neighboring rooftops, all trying to capture the moment I would meet the woman who gave birth to me.
This was such a special moment between my mom and me. I left my coat inside, so she wrapped hers around my shoulders and then kissed me on the cheek.
The home where my family in Russia lives and where I went to meet them.
Walking around the house to the back door, I was mainly hoping that I didn’t slip on the ice. I held Hannah’s arm tightly as we glided down the icy sidewalk. As we walked alongside the house to the back, we could hear my mother and sister crying through the thin walls. When we turned the corner and they came out the back door, my mom immediately came over and hugged me. She was sobbing by then, and there was a special moment when I was hugging her and she was holding and kissing my face. The thought came to me, This is my mom. It was a beautiful moment I’ll never forget.
My mom had prepared a lunch for us to enjoy together, so we all sat around the table and I was able to talk with my family through our translators. I could ask all the questions I had been storing up for a lifetime. It turns out that my mother had hoped to go back for me when I was three years old, but I had already been adopted.
After we ate, I got to see pictures of my parents and siblings growing up. I was given a picture of my mother when she was seventeen, the year she was pregnant with me. I took off one of my prosthetics and showed them my leg (or my nub, as I like to call it) while my mother just held my hand and gazed at me, as if trying to fathom that I was real.
Meeting my sister Anastasia for the first time.
Anastasia, my mom, and I compared faces in the mirror and discovered that we all have the same green-and-gold eyes. We took tons of pictures together, and Hannah made sure my makeup wasn’t smeared all over my face from crying. Thank the Lord for waterproof makeup!
Two worlds collide. My American sister and my Russian sister meet.
It’s crazy to think about the life I might have had if the Longs hadn’t adopted me. Whether I was adopted by a different family or had stayed in Russia and never had my amputation or access to prosthetics, I doubt I would have found swimming and the Paralympics. I am so thankful that God had a plan for that little Russian orphan. I wouldn’t want my life to have played out in any other way.