For a long time I was going to write my story, but each time I thought whether it would be of interest to anyone. But, when I read several “sentimental” stories of mothers who, after a few months, gave the babies back to the shelter (because they didn’t eat, slept, walked, sat, talked), got angry and decided that my case, compared to them, a penny is not worth it.
So, my story is somewhat similar to the stories of the famous American thrillers, where couples take children from the shelter who turn out to be real monsters. By the way, I used to think that this could not happen a priori, because I believed that a child could not inherit the dominant character traits of biological parents. I strongly believed that the temperament of the child is formed depending on the environment, the atmosphere in the family and the methods of education. How wrong I was.
The first months of life with Vova
I'll start from afar. I got married at 19 years old. The very pupil of the orphanage. Contrary to popular belief, I’ll say that I really liked it there. The attitude from teachers, teachers and staff was good. People, as they say, from God. But not the point.
A year after the wedding, my daughter Christina was born. And after 2 years, I again wanted a child. We tried for about a year. After the next medical examination, at which they told us for the hundredth time that my husband could no longer become a father, they reconciled and decided to take the baby from the shelter. Kristyusha was already 3 years old. She was very happy that she would soon have a brother.
I will not go into details about paperwork and I will not choose. In general, a one-year-old boy, Vova, appeared in our family. It was a chubby, cute and cheeky little baby who always smiled when someone came up to his bed and made faces.
My first surprise came when I tried to pick him up and rock it. He began to cry loudly. Is over hystericswhen I put him in the crib. He immediately put 2 fingers in his mouth, put the second pen on his shoulder and began to swing from side to side. I myself was brought up in a boarding school, but I have never seen such a thing.
Anyway. We put up with this. Gradually, Vova began to abandon the habit of self-cultivation and fell asleep immediately, as soon as we put him in the crib. Honestly, I liked it, because we shook little Kristyusha for hours on our hands, and then in a stroller.
The second thing that surprised me was that Vovchik did not want affection. He constantly escaped from his hands, stretching out his arms and legs.This upset me very much, because I really wanted to hold him close to me, smell, hear sniffles, smack. But that never happened. Vova allowed himself to be stroked only in the crib, and even then not always. I had to live with it.
The boy grew up healthy and strong, pleased with a good appetite. We never limited him in anything, we loved him just like Christina, bought toys, the best care products, all the necessary furniture.
The beginning of a nightmare
The problems began when Vovchik turned 4 years old, and we took him to kindergarten. On the first day, he beat the girl, moreover, with all the cruelty. According to the stories of the nanny and the teacher, when they entered the room, my son beat Masha lying on the floor with his feet.
This was followed by calls from the parents of the girl with threats. We did not stop apologizing, bought Masha an easel, several interesting encyclopedias and toys. Fortunately, everything turned out to be good with the girl.
Later we found out that the conflict was due to a toy that my son insistently did not want to give. We had a conversation with Vova every day. We calmly explained to the boy that this should not be done.
For several weeks everything was fine until, upon arrival at the kindergarten, we found out that Vova painted the whole body and face with the pens for the boy. Next was sticking sand into the girl's mouth, pushing, running boards. And he hit one boy on the head with a typewriter while playing in the sandbox.
My patience snapped when, upon arrival at the kindergarten, the teacher told me that he took off his pants during class and began to touch himself with everyone. At the same time, seeing that the children were laughing, he began to dance, jump and scream.
The first thing I did was take Vova to a psychologist. He said the boy lacked parental attention. I decided to quit my job (I worked at home — I wrote articles for a local newspaper) and tackled the child closely. We walked a lot, spent time together. When Vovchik turned 5, I took him to preparatory school. In parallel, we went to chess and swimming.
Everything was fine, I thought that life was getting better. But no. My husband and I began to notice that Christine was behaving strangely. She did not answer our questions, constantly avoiding conversation.
To establish communication, I took her to my favorite cafe. We were there together. I asked Christina how she was doing. The girl burst into tears immediately. I sat down with her and whispered: “Don’t be afraid, I’m with you, tell me what happened.” I did not expect such an answer. It turns out that Vova scared her. Every day he kept saying that it would be better if she was not born. The son also did not forget at every opportunity to say that her parents do not like Christina and want to send her to an orphanage.
My anger knew no bounds. I came home and started screaming at Vova. At that moment I was expecting the boy to at least cry. In response, he made an evil face and threw him in the direction of Christina: "I will kill you."
My husband and I decided to punish Vova - we were forbidden to watch cartoons and deprived of our favorite toys. It seemed that the son repented of his actions. And again the lull - before the storm.
School period
School time has come. My husband and I were very happy - for the first time in first grade. It’s very touching when we saw our son among schoolchildren - such an adult, so beautiful.
This is where the joy ended. Every day we received calls from the teacher and parents. Everyone complained about Vova’s behavior. Once all the mothers gathered at the gate to talk with me. They made a condition - either the boy is changing, or they are writing a complaint to the prosecutor.
I cried all the way and did not utter a word. Vova, seeing my tears, did not even ask why my mother was upset. My husband and I decided to take him to a psychiatrist. The doctor prescribed light sedatives to us. The drugs were taken every day, but they did not help. Vova constantly thwarted his lessons and raised his hand to classmates.
We decided to transfer him to another school, where there was a cadet class. There Vova met two boys. They spent all the time together, went to visit each other.My husband and I thought that everything was finally working out.
Soon, the mother of one of Vova’s friends called me and said that my son forced him to smoke a cigarette (and this is in the second grade). For failure, the boys beat him with a stick. It is probably easy to guess that my son took the main part in this.
We tearfully asked parents not to write a statement to the police, we promised to transfer Vova to another school and not to let their child go. So they did.
Vova’s influence on relationships in our family
After the incident with the beating of a boy, my hands dropped, and depression developed. This was followed by an appeal to a therapist. And if it weren’t for the doctor, I don’t know what would happen to me.
My husband and I swore every day. Once the spouse got dressed and left at the time of the conflict. Inside me, hatred and love for Vova fought. On the one hand, I understood that it was my son, he needed help, and on the other, I realized that he could commit an even more serious crime.
As for the behavior of my child - it has not changed. There was still no sympathy, pity, compassion in him. He was cruel, almost never smiling. Vova preferred some kind of evil games - with weapons and necessarily with wounds and killings.
I called my spouse, who lived with my sister, asked me to return and discuss everything, because the fate of our family is being decided. He came, and together we began to cry. The first thing I asked was: "What is happening, have we never quarreled with you?"
At that moment Vova entered the room. He saw his father and did not even say hello. He did not care that dad was not at home for 2 days.
In the evening we all gathered at dinner, when a bell rang suddenly. The boy’s mother called, with whom Vova often played in the yard. She said that my son pushed him, and he hit his head on a bench. To my question about why she called just now, the woman replied that her son was afraid to talk about it. At first he explained that he had hit himself, and then admitted that it was Vova. He threatened the boy and said that he would kill if he said something to the adults.
I could not stand it. She came up and hit Vova on the cheek. The son began to hysteria and scream that he hates us. I told him that if he doesn’t stop acting like that, we will give him back to the orphanage.
In a word, we never hid from Vova that he was from a shelter. I always said that there are children who are born from the tummy and those who appear from the heart. So, it was he who was born from the heart. But the boy did not attach any importance to this.
And again indifference. How terrible and painful it is when the child doesn’t care, when he does not feel love for his relatives, but only feels anger and hatred.
Hard decision
At night, when the children fell asleep, my husband and I started talking again. It lasted until 2 a.m. Finally, we came to the conclusion that the boy needs to be returned to the orphanage. I admit that I thought about this for a long time, but I hoped that everything would work out.
Vova seemed to hear our conversation, because for several months nothing happened - no complaints from parents, no beatings, bad words, manifestations of aggression towards her sister. We began to get used to it, until one day we found out that money had disappeared from our apartment. The theft was noticed when my husband decided to put several thousand into the “home bank”, and after that - to recount the whole amount. Almost 30 thousand were missing.
Vova at that time returned from the street. When asked about where the money was, he replied: “Ask your Kristinochka. I have nothing to do with".
The daughter looked at us with square eyes. We realized that we made a mistake accusing Christine of theft.
I went into Vova’s room and hit him on the cheek. The boy screeched, but he didn’t even let out a tear. To the question: “Why did you take it?”, He answered: “It was necessary for me and took it, you will earn more.” In a fit of anger, I said that tomorrow he would leave for the boarding school. Vova did not believe it, because he remained indifferent. Or maybe he didn't care.
In the morning I went to the shelter. There, together with the director, we lifted all the archives and found out that Vova’s father was sitting for a triple murder.I also learned that there were schizophrenics in his family. But that was not the point. I firmly decided that I couldn’t do that anymore. And again paperwork.
When Vova left for the shelter, his face did not even flinch. I thought for a second that he would return, cry, ask me and father to forgive him and leave him at home. But no - no reaction. Zero.
After Vova left, I was depressed again, as if a piece was torn from me, but I understood that I needed to live on, especially since I had a beautiful, kind daughter who needed the support of my parents.
Now Vova is 11 years old. We still come to him, bring gifts, help with money. The boy takes them and does not say a word. But he can call at any moment and ask for something, as if I were some kind of free delivery. But, despite this, I try to do for him everything that he asks. Maybe in this way I atone for him my guilt?
I know that many will condemn me for such an act, but I am also not iron. After all, the boy almost ruined my family. Now every six months I visit a psychotherapist, Christina still does not want to hear about Vova. The girl winces when the phone rings. She is afraid to pick up the phone.
And why such injustice? Someone takes the children from the shelter for fun, returning them after a few months, someone - so as not to be bored, and someone - to distract from the grief, death of a loved one. I took the child to love him as a native, opened my heart and soul for him, trusted the most secret, let me into my family, but, unfortunately, I did not wait for reciprocity.
