How I Stayed in America (Part 6)

–Masha, hCG is growing!…

Nowadays, being in the well-deserved status of a mother with many children, I understand everything as 2×2. However, back then, I still had to “chew” all the information.

-You see, after the operation, hCG grows like an egg in the uterine cavity. Hence, pregnancy! Rest for a couple more days. We will then check everything via ultrasound, and only then I’ll let you go.

I was eager to reunite with my beloved. I left the hospital with a “pregnancy” diagnosis. Many do not believe in this story. They say it doesn’t work that way. Possibly. Yet, it really happened to me. I didn’t  just come up with this story. I have witnesses. Lebedeva stated that this

is a case which occurs once in a million times. Apparently, it was destined to be so.

Much of what was taking place in my life was from the realm of fantasy. It’s like a story about lips or breasts. I reduced both my lips and breasts several times. However, over time, for some reason, “meat” was growing back again. I know it sounds funny and ridiculous, but my boobs are still growing! I have spoken about it with many doctors. Oddly enough, there is a medical explanation for this. You know, there are people who are skinny, and there are people who are “meaty”. I am meaty. This also might sound ridiculous, but I’m simply being honest.

So, let me continue with the story of how I stayed in America.

My husband left for the Utah Jazz summer camp. He played there like God. It was quite obvious that Utah was betting on him. Furthermore, it was clear that he was going to become a big NBA star. Looking ahead, I would say that each NBA team is different, and Utah is a primordially “small market” team. Andrei was adored by Utah. Once, I was driving a car with numbers AK 47 and stopped at an intersection. Several people noticed my Porsche and, having determined that it was Andrei’s car,  they knelt down and started banging their heads on the asphalt. I got scared, and I pressed the button to lock the doors.

We had to go to the registry office for merely one simple reason. I got a call from Utah Jazz; they said that they were preparing an invitation for me so that I could apply for a visa in Moscow. Judy Adams (who became my favorite Judy later) suggested that it would be much easier to get a visa if we were married. To be precise, to get the right visa — O1.

Therefore, we went to the registry office and got married.

I had terrible toxicosis, so I got married in a home suit, in which I was constantly lying at the initial stage of my pregnancy. My fiance was wearing a formal suit though. He carried me to the registry office, not because he wanted to be romantic, but because I simply could not walk
— that’s how sick I felt. They married us in a hurry, and I applied for American visa. Moreover, we did not have a wedding reception. There was neither strength nor funds for the latter. We both had money, however, there was no “extra money”, as some tend to say. Instead, we decided to splurge on our honeymoon.