by Jessica Long
14
The moment I found peace
I was raised in a Christian home where God was always at the center of my family. We prayed together before meals and read Bible storybooks before bedtime. We went to Cub Hill Bible Presbyterian Church every Sunday morning, and Christian music was a staple in my house. I went to youth group and Bible studies when I could between training, and I attended Vacation Bible School in the summertime, which I loved. My parents never forced any of their beliefs on me. They taught me the Bible and encouraged me to ask questions and seek a relationship with God at my own pace. I always had trouble with schoolwork and struggled with comprehending information, and I had the same issue in this area. I hated that all my siblings seemed to have an easy faith while I struggled to piece it all together. I prayed, not fully understanding and not fully convinced.
“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” —Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV) 76
Most times in my life, my fire and independence were good things. They moved me forward and kept me motivated. But those same traits caused me to consistently push God and the church away. I wanted control. When I was younger, I couldn’t put this into words, but I now realize that I never felt good enough. I was used to working to be like everyone else and fighting to be on top of my sport. People were telling me that the love of this perfect and all-knowing God was a gift I could just accept, that I didn’t have to work for it. I wasn’t buying it. I didn’t fully understand how God could really love me when I didn’t always like myself. I wanted to believe, but why would Jesus Christ sacrifice himself and care about what was going on in my life? It just didn’t make sense.
Posing with my dad at my cousin’s wedding! I have a plethora of cousins, so there’s pretty much always an engagement, wedding, or baby shower being planned.
It wasn’t until I made the move away from my parents that I really started to question my relationship with Jesus. I could no longer go along with my parents’ and siblings’ faith when I was confronted with things that opposed it every day. It was as if I had all those years to study Christianity, and now it was time for me to take the test and see if any of it had stuck. I was constantly torn between the morals and beliefs I was raised with and the way everyone I was surrounded by thought and lived. I started pushing God further away so I didn’t have to be different. Thankfully, I have an amazing family, who kept me in their prayers, and a God who is faithful in His pursuit and never let me get too far away.
I started having severe anxiety, and the OCD* tendencies I always had came at me with full force. Once, I spent so long making my bed to perfection—ironing wrinkles out of it, lint-rolling it, and laying every corner just so—that I slept in the empty room of my suite (my roommate had moved out) for the next six months so I didn’t have to mess it up. I became obsessive over my weight and diet, and I started forcing myself to throw up if I felt that I ate too much on a particular day. My struggle eventually manifested itself as panic attacks, and I was rushed to the hospital by ambulance twice because the attacks were so bad that my friends thought I was dying. I thought so too. I felt as if my body were being ripped apart from the inside. Once, I was so sure I was having a heart attack that I called my mom to say goodbye.
While I was struggling through all of this, I found a church in Colorado that I really loved. I met some awesome people there, and I was reintroduced to the idea of personally choosing Jesus for my own life. I still fought against it, even as I was questioning and pursuing more answers for myself. After London and all the emotions that came with learning about my Russian family, I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t really feel anything. I knew it was time to let go. It’s easier to give up control when you realize you never had control over life anyway.
That summer, everything began to change for the better. One night at my church’s young adult Bible study group I actually felt God tug at my heart. In that moment, I made a vow to actively pursue Jesus, and I finally felt like I was enough. I realized that God doesn’t promise to make everything better, but He promises to be with me in every moment and every circumstance, ready to cover me in His endless grace. Becoming a Christian didn’t mean that everything would be easy-breezy from there on out, but in my moments of doubt, I can draw on my faith to face each new challenge that life brings.
15
The moment I returned home
From the time I was a little girl, I always wanted to train with the North Baltimore Aquatic Club (NBAC) at the Meadowbrook Aquatic Center. The team’s coach, Bob Bowman, has trained many Olympic swimmers, including Michael Phelps and Allison Schmitt. The commute had been a bit too long for my parents while they were juggling the activities of their other kids, so I competed with teams closer to home, pushing NBAC to the back of my mind. After the London Games, while I was still at the Olympic Training Center, I started to wonder if I could go back and swim with what had always been my dream team.
I was scheduled to speak at Boston College in April, and it turned out that Bob Bowman was the other speaker. I could tell how passionate he was about coaching. While sharing a ride to the airport with him, I decided it was the perfect opportunity to ask what he thought about me training with him for the U.S. Olympic Team Trials. He gave me his card and said that the next time he was at the OTC, we could have a chat about the possibilities. A month later he and his team came to train at the OTC and I was invited to Baltimore to swim with Bob’s team at NBAC.
I knew the first six weeks at NBAC would be the hardest—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I have never trained so much and so hard in my life. It’s a whole new ball game training with Olympians as opposed to Paralympians, but I had to do it. I had to prove to myself that I could keep up with able-bodied Olympic swimmers. London was over, I was avoiding thinking about my newly found family in Russia, and I needed a new goal.
Overlooking my home: Baltimore. I love getting coffee and then climbing this hill to take in the view.
At every practice with NBAC, I had to give 110 percent. If I gave anything less, I would not make it through the grueling sets. My life was literally eat, sleep, swim. But I loved being able to throw myself back into training.
HERE’S WHAT A DAY WITH NBAC LOOKS LIKE:
5:45 a.m.: Alarm goes off. Roll out of bed, grab swim bag, and drive the four minutes to the pool.
6:00 a.m.: Arrive at the pool, begin stretches.
6:45 a.m.: Meet with Bob and the team to go over our workout, goals, or info on upcoming meets.
7:00 a.m.: Swim first practice of the day-a good seven thousand to eight thousand meters, long course.
9:00 a.m.: Weight training with the girls.
10:00 a.m.: Nap.
12:00 p.m.: Get up, have coffee and a snack.
2:00–4:00 p.m.: Swim second practice, covering six thousand to seven thousand meters. (Once, we swam eighteen thousand meters in one day!)
8:00 p.m.: Climb into bed
I formed some incredible friendships with my teammates. In fact, I met my two best friends at NBAC. You get to know what people are made of when you endure one grueling practice after another. I remember the day after Thanksgiving in 2014, when we had a practice called the Turkey Burner. There are only a few practices I can point to that made me cry. This was one of them. I was the last person out of the pool when it was over. I walked over to my legs, and Michael Phelps took one look at me, knelt down to my level, opened his arms, and gave me a big hug. It was nice to be surrounded by people who knew exactly what you were going through. NBAC was the most tight-knit swim team I have ever been part of. Even on our day off, after seeing one another nonstop all week for fourteen-plus workouts, we chose to spend even more time together as friends.
It’s funny how those moments of struggle turned out to be some of the best memories—those times when I could have given up but kept going and pushing myself. I trained so hard that I barely had time t
o think about anything beyond surviving each practice. The hardest decision each day was whether I should gather up the strength to eat something or immediately drop into bed for a nap. When I look back on those intense workouts, I see that I didn’t know if I would make it through. But I kept going back, and I felt I was where I needed to be.
The prettiest place in the world.
16
The moment I returned to Russia
All bundled up with Hannah in Russia.
Before my Russian family contacted me, I had actually been talking with a documentary film producer who was interested in helping me find my biological mom. In 2013, things were put on hold as we tried to figure out how to tie in my Russian family with the documentary we were working on. It seemed that I’d never meet my family. Then NBC approached my agent and said they wanted to film the reunion. They offered to provide transportation and security, take me to the orphanage where I was adopted, and accompany me to visit the home of my biological family. I immediately said yes, and I decided to take my younger sister Hannah along with me for the trip. She knows exactly how to handle my unique way of dealing with emotions, and I completely trust her advice. As my little sister, she is supposed to look up to me, but I always find myself looking up to her.
On December 8, 2013, Hannah and I made the trip from Baltimore to New York to meet with the NBC crew and travel to Moscow. It was the first stop on our long journey. Leading up to this trip, I tried to remain very calm. I didn’t think too much about what I was about to do. I continued swimming, and I packed as if I were just packing for another swim meet, except with more fleece-lined clothing. I tried to keep my feelings neutral. We landed in Moscow and had a five-hour layover. Just before we were about to board our next flight to Irkutsk, the plane was delayed for another seven hours. The explanation was simple: “This is Russia,” followed by a shrug of the shoulders. We later discovered that those words were the common reply to any question that had an unexplainable answer.
We were finally able to board our plane for Irkutsk, and when we arrived at our hotel, Hannah and I went straight to bed. We were exhausted from more than thirty hours of traveling. Hannah dropped off immediately, but I quickly realized that I wouldn’t be getting much sleep. I woke up at one point and checked the time to find that it was only 1:30 in the morning. My mind kept racing, and I decided I needed to clear my head, so I went to the gym and worked out for three hours. I came back to the room, showered, and watched a TV show, all while Hannah slept peacefully. In case you were wondering, she slept for a healthy thirteen hours.
After breakfast, along with the NBC crew, we drove an hour to the orphanage that had been my temporary home all those years ago. This was such an amazing moment for me. As we walked into the orphanage, caretakers, cameras, and children were everywhere, and they were so excited to meet me! They gave me flowers and led me to several different rooms full of babies and young children. Normally, small children don’t seem to respond well to me, but these little ones ran right up to Hannah and me and threw their arms around our legs with huge smiles on their faces. They just wanted to be held and loved.
Setting up to record an interview with NBC for the documentary “Long Way Home: The Jessica Long Story.” We had to leave the hotel room door open, and our sound guy nearly had a heart attack every time someone stomped by with their suitcase in the hallway.
At the orphanage where I was adopted. Thankfully, they’ve moved to a newer building since my adoption. This adorable baby was so smiley while I held him!
I was able to meet the woman who had handed me over to my adoptive father in 1993. She remembered meeting my dad and asking him what my American name would be. After spending a few hours visiting the different rooms, I went outside to answer questions for NBC. We did small interviews whenever we had any free time.
Hannah and I both stood outside the orphanage, processing all we had just witnessed and trying to convince ourselves not to adopt all of these children and bring them back home with us. Visiting that orphanage and meeting so many beautiful children helped me realize how much my family in Baltimore loves me. I always had a hard time comprehending and processing the love my adoptive family gave to me as a child. Even though I am not a biological daughter to Steve and Beth Long, they love me unconditionally, and in that moment I could finally see it clearly.
Once we left the orphanage, we boarded a train on a journey that would take eighteen long hours. Somehow Hannah and I managed to power through with the help of books, hot chocolate, and lots of laughter. We arrived in Bratsk late in the afternoon the next day.
FAVORITE BOOKS:
THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY TRILOGY. I HAVE READ ALL THREE BOOKS IN THE SERIES, EIGHT TIMES EACH!
The mayor met us at the train station with a giant bouquet of pink roses and escorted us to our hotel. I walked into the hotel lobby to find a crowd of kids and parents waiting for me. They asked questions and gave gifts, and one girl even recited a poem. I felt so welcome everywhere I went in Russia. After signing autographs and talking to the group, Hannah and I went to our room to unpack and prepare for one of the biggest moments of my life . . . the day I would meet my Russian family for the first time.
This is the woman who handed thirteen-month-old baby Jess to my dad when he went to the orphanage to adopt me. She remembered asking him what my name would be and him replying, “Jessica.”
17
The moment I met my Russian family
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.