When discussing the fees associated with adoption at the Barker agency, the director said something that really stuck with me. "You are not paying for a child. You are paying for our professional services, which are worth something, but you are never, ever, paying for a child."
I think that's something everyone naturally assumes when they start the adoption path, but as the fees and paperwork and more fees start to mount, and you are looking at taking out loans to complete the process, I'm pretty sure that your brain will naturally start to wonder, "how different is this from baby buying?"
The answer is, a whole lot different. Baby buying is human trafficking. No two ways about it. Whether you have the best of intentions - whisking a child from poverty and strife to the lap of luxury - or the worst (I won't even talk about that here), you are inherently placing a monetary value on a human being. That, my friends, is slavery. To borrow a phrase: Let's be clear. Purchasing a human being is slavery. End of story. It's very disturbing and is part of, if not the main reason for, the Hague Convention on adoption. Countries who are signatory to the Hague have stated, by signing that document, that they are serious about preventing adoption from being used as a means of trafficking slaves around the world. I won't get in to any statistics on this issue, one: because I don't know any. And two: because I just can't look them up. I can't.
Which brings me to my main point about honesty. During this whole process, you have to strip away everything you thought you knew about yourself and really get to the core of what you can shoulder emotionally. This was not a long trip for me. I know that I tend to be overly empathetic. I listen to headphones every night as I fall asleep to give my mind something to focus on, instead of letting it replay endlessly through the litany of horrors from the day. Snippets from the news, someone spanking their child in public (I can't even put words to how much this bothers me), a story from a friend who works with abused women and children that reminds me that monsters are, in fact, real.
I know I'm sounding more and more like a nut job here. I'm considering how this post will sound to someone who is considering trusting us with a child. Not good, I imagine. This is not to say that I am weak and ineffectual. I'd like to think I'm the opposite. That my true strength shows when it counts the most. But this all ties back in to adopting, I promise.
The bottom line is that one day child will ask us, "How much did you pay for me?" (Or a stranger will, but I will slap that person in the face.) And we will look them directly in the eyes and say, "Not one penny. You are priceless." We'll pay fees for social workers to come in and certify us as capable human beings. And we'll pay fees to travel and to get certified copies of paperwork from various government agencies. But not once, not ever, will we pay for a child.
Similarly, if our child asks us why we chose them, why they got us as parents rather than the myriad other children out there who need homes, I need to be able to look them in the face and tell them, "because we knew, from the moment we looked at you, that you were our child." Or as a friend's parents said to her, "We always knew we had a child-sized hole in our hearts. We didn't know until we met you that it was a you-sized hole."
This is why we are limiting our search in terms of age and disability. I have nothing but respect and awe for people who take in teenagers and kids with severe mental and physical disabilities. But the reality is that I don't know how well equipped I am to tackle those issues, emotionally. I need to give my entire heart and soul to our child, without reservations. I need to be able to kiss scraped knees and hold them while they cry out their first heartbreak. And I fear that if I go looking for the child who "needs" a home the most, rather than the one who will fit best with us as a family, not only will I find that child, but I will also be the last person in the world who is able to help them. If I go looking for a charity case, I will certainly find it. Without a doubt. But I'm not looking for a charity case, I'm looking for a child.
I realize that I am assuming a much greater control over the circumstance than I am likely to have, realistically. When you are pregnant, for example, there are no guarantees that your child will be healthy and whole. Or that they will face no trauma in their lives. The same is true for the adoption process. Maybe you'll get a healthy infant, maybe you'll get one with fetal alcohol syndrome. You just never know. And by the point that the child arrives, I know I will be committed to them 100%. But in the interim, you have to set up some kind of selection criteria, or you'll go mad. Or broke as you pour all of your financial resources into "saving" as many as possible. This bears repeating: I'm looking for my child, not a charity case.
I'll wrap this up with a page from a great blog I just found called Single Dad Laughing: How Much Did Your Kid Cost? Hilariously put, but the underlying message is the same.
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