The weeks before she came home

This is Part 5 of a 6-part series: Our Adoption Journey – From Hope to Home. If you’re just joining us, you can read [Part 1 here], [Part 2 here], [Part 3 here], and [Part 4 here].

After the first glimpse visit, everything moved fast.

We didn’t ask for thinking time. We didn’t need it. We called our caseworker the same day and told her: we’re moving forward. And just like that, the countdown began.

From the first glimpse visit, families in Hungary have approximately four to six weeks for the getting-to-know-you period — the gradual, structured process of building a bond with your child before they come home. Four to six weeks that, in our case, were the most exhausting, chaotic, tender, and joy-filled weeks of our entire adoption journey.

The Getting-to-Know-You visits: our adoption journey moves forward

The visits began slowly and built week by week.

The first meeting after the first glimpse visit took place in a small room at the baby home, in the presence of the institution’s psychologist. One hour. Just the three of us — plus a professional watching quietly from the corner — and a basket of toys between us and our little blossom.

She was curious. Cautious. She watched us with those enormous brown eyes, deciding whether we were safe.

We played. We made silly faces. We sat on the floor and let her set the pace.

After that first visit, there was a five-day gap. Then, the following week, we were allowed to come twice. The week after that, three times. Each visit was longer, warmer, more natural than the last. And with each one, the caregivers at the baby home drew us further into our little blossom’s daily life.

First, they showed us how she liked to be fed. The next time, I fed her myself.

They showed us how to bathe her. And then, one afternoon, I bathed her for the first time — this tiny, solemn, watchful little person who tolerated my nervousness with remarkable patience.

Every single visit, I thought: I cannot believe this is real.

Running a life in between

What nobody tells you about this stage of the adoption journey is that life doesn’t pause for it.

Between visits, we were still working. I was managing a major exhibition at my job — an event I had been organising for months, with deadlines that didn’t care about my personal circumstances. My husband was keeping his own professional life running. And on top of all of that, we were preparing our home for a child who would be arriving in weeks.

Our third bedroom had been our home office — two fully equipped workstations, chairs, shelves, screens. All of it had to go. The room had to become her room. The workstations had to be redistributed around the rest of the flat. The walls needed repainting. New furniture needed assembling. A safe, warm, welcoming space had to be built from scratch — and it had to be ready, with photographic documentation submitted to the child protection services, by a specific deadline.

We worked on it every evening. Every weekend. Every spare hour we could find.

And then my husband got sick.

Fogát Összeszorítva — Gritting his teeth

I don’t have a perfect English phrase for what my husband did during those weeks. In Hungarian, we say fogát összeszorítva — gritting his teeth. Pushing through when everything in you wants to stop.

He was genuinely unwell. The kind of ill where you should be in bed, sleeping, recovering. But there was no time for that. Her room wasn’t finished. The deadline was approaching. Our little blossom was waiting.

So he kept going. He painted walls when he could barely stand. He assembled furniture with a fever. He showed up to the baby home visits with a smile on his face because she deserved his best, even when his best was running on empty.

I watched him and thought: this is who he is. This is the father she is getting.

My parents came to help wherever they could — my mother cooking so that at least that was one less thing on my list, my father lending his hands to the renovation. Without them, I don’t know how we would have managed. The love that surrounded us during those weeks — from family, from each other — was the thing that kept us moving forward.

The photo we almost didn’t take

One of the less-talked-about parts of the adoption journey is the paperwork that follows you right to the end — and this was no exception. The child protection services required photographic evidence that her room was ready before our little blossom could come home.

The deadline arrived before the room was finished.

I will not pretend otherwise: we staged the photograph. We positioned the cot in front of the one wall that was fully painted. We pushed a wardrobe into the frame. We submitted the documentation.

And then we went back to painting the rest of her room by lamplight, night after night, until it was truly ready. Because she deserved a room that was genuinely finished — not just finished enough for a photograph.

I think about that photo sometimes and smile. It is the most honest dishonest thing I have ever done.

The first time she saw the sky

One of the moments from those weeks that I will never forget happened outside.

As the visits progressed, we were eventually allowed to take our little blossom into the garden of the baby home — and then, for the first time, beyond its gates. Fourteen months old, and she had never been outside. Not really. The furthest she had ever gone was the balcony.

The day we walked her into the garden for the first time, she looked at the trees as though she had never imagined such things existed. She looked at the grass beneath her feet — she had never felt it before. She looked up at the sky.

And then her eyes filled with tears.

Not from sadness. From the light. Her eyes simply weren’t used to sunlight — real, open, unfiltered spring sunlight — and they responded the only way they knew how.

I stood there watching her cry at the sky and I thought: every single thing that is ordinary to us is a discovery for her. Every bird. Every breeze. Every shadow of a cloud moving across the ground.

It was, without question, one of the most profound moments of my adoption journey. And one of the saddest — not for her future, which I already knew would be full of light, but for the months she had spent without it.

The day Stella met her person

Midway through the getting-to-know-you weeks, we brought Stella.

It felt important. Stella had been our constant throughout the entire adoption journey — through the grief, the waiting, the paperwork, the hoping. She had been the one who first taught us that love doesn’t require biology. It felt right that she should meet our little blossom properly, that she should understand whose scent had been coming home on our clothes every evening.

We took them for a walk together near the baby home.

Stella, who has strong opinions about most things in life, was uncharacteristically gentle. She sniffed. She circled. She looked up at us as if to say: I see. So this is her.

Our little blossom watched Stella with wide, fascinated eyes.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t cinematic. It was just two small creatures meeting for the first time, taking each other in — and somehow, in that quiet moment, our little family felt completely real for the first time.

What comes next

The getting-to-know-you visits were coming to an end. Each time we left the baby home, it became harder to say goodbye — for us, and we hoped, a little for her too.

The next chapter of our adoption journey was about to begin: the intensive week, the final countdown, and the day our little blossom would leave the only home she had ever known — and come to ours.

That story is Part 6 — the last chapter of Our Adoption Journey: From Hope to Home.

Start from the beginning with [Part 1: Before the Yes], or continue with [Part 2], [Part 3], and [Part 4].

FAQ — The Getting-to-Know-You period in Hungarian adoption

How long is the getting-to-know-you period in Hungarian adoption? The timeline varies significantly depending on the circumstances. Where the child is living — a baby home, a foster family, or a hospital — the child’s age, and the distance between the adoptive family and the child all play a role. For newborns, the process moves faster. If the adoptive family lives far from the child, the visits may be condensed. In our case, we had approximately four to six weeks of structured visits. But every situation is different, and the professionals involved will guide the process based on what is best for the child.

What happens during the getting-to-know-you visits? Visits begin with short, supervised sessions and gradually expand in frequency and length. Parents are introduced to the child’s daily routines — feeding, bathing, sleeping — and take on more responsibility with each visit. The visits build toward an intensive final week, during which the child spends progressively more time with the family before the permanent move home.

How can we prepare our home for an adopted toddler? In Hungary, the child protection services must confirm that the home environment is suitable before placement. In some cases this involves a formal in-person home visit; in others, photographic documentation may be sufficient — this depends on the caseworker and the specific circumstances.

Either way, the most important preparation is creating a calm, safe, sensory-friendly space, particularly for children who have spent time in institutional care and may be encountering many everyday experiences for the first time. If you’d like to understand more about why this matters, the Child Welfare Information Gateway offers trusted, research-based resources on supporting children through the transition from institutional care to family life. For a deeper look at the sensory challenges many post-institutionalized children face — and practical guidance on what to watch for — this detailed guide on sensory integration in adopted children is one of the most comprehensive resources we’ve come across.”

What should adoptive parents know about children from institutional care? The experience varies depending on the child’s age and placement. In baby homes, very young infants typically spend their days in a shared group room on soft play mats, with outdoor naps on the balcony in appropriate weather. Older toddlers are usually in separate groups and do get outdoor time — in the institution’s garden, on the playground, or on walks. That said, institutional life is a much more contained world than family life, and children who leave it — whatever their age — often encounter everyday sights, sounds, and sensations as though for the first time. Patience and gentleness are essential during those early weeks together.

Is it normal for the getting-to-know-you period to feel overwhelming? For most families, yes — and that’s completely understandable. Very few people are in a position to step away from work entirely and focus solely on their child’s arrival. In most cases, the getting-to-know-you period happens alongside full professional and personal lives, and the pressure can feel relentless. What helped us most was leaning on family support, being honest with our employers, and and reminding ourselves that every hard day of our adoption journey was bringing us one step closer to bringing our daughter home.