To Sing Frogs Chapter 3c

Library in the great room of our house.

I’m not sure I have a better idea for how to run adoptions. Even so, the ambiance bothered me. These were children. Not cars! They weren’t responsibilities, or problems, or issues, or challenges, or cases, or files, or even statistics.

These were little people who for a very few short years needed big people as much as big people need them. Why did they need to be “sold,” or “placed,” or whatever else it is that private and government agencies do with things they “handle”?

Why can’t parents who want to adopt just call a social worker, perform the necessary safety checks, and add to their families? I didn’t approve of the way business was presenting adoption. Government’s mis-handling of children who needed homes was worse.

Our assigned agent from Adoption Associates’ Lansing office greeted us. Because of privacy laws in the U.S., I’ll call her Jane.

Jane was tall and slender with her short hair styled in a bob-cut. She didn’t have the figure of a Barbie doll but she was feminine enough and had the bonus of a build that indicated she could never be over-weight no matter what she ate. Her bubbly personality was compelling. It would have been difficult to not like Jane.

Mrs. Doe was very nice and I felt immediately secure with her. Perhaps it was because I’ve always made a practice of not reading books on how to make a million dollars, written by people who have to take the wheels off their houses, even if I love them dearly. That’s relevant because Jane had adopted from—I’ll say China. Not only had Jane and her husband adopted internationally, they had a few biological children as well.

“We’ll just meet in here,” Jane said while motioning us into one of the small meeting rooms. Go ahead and have a seat. Can I get you coffee?”

“I’ll just have water if that’s okay,” Amy responded.

“Do you have a Coke?” I asked.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

The next hour was spent with Jane thumbing through a folder of papers and several brochures. She systematically laid out all of the different things needing to happen; which responsibilities were ours, and what the agency would do. The best part of the meeting was when Mrs. Doe let us ask her any questions we wanted about her adoption experience. She was candid, open, and honest.

Amy kept the questions simple and polite. “How old is your oldest?” “What grade is your daughter in?” “Do your children like school?”

I didn’t want nice. I wanted information. Jane was happy to comply when it was finally my turn to talk. She even let me keep going when it appeared that Amy might have kicked me under the table (I screamed and grabbed my leg). Jane must be married to a “Type A” control freak because she sure knew how to deal with one.

The worst part of the meeting was when Jane pulled out a list of books like I hadn’t seen since my American Lit class in high school. Fortunately, we only had to pick four of them to read. My nose is constantly stuck in a book so it wouldn’t be a big deal, only a change in genre. Amy cheated and selected the same four books I did. My wife doesn’t have much time for reading, so she gambled on being able to cheat off my papers.

“So, what countries are you considering for your adoption,” Jane asked happily.

Amy would have continued by ho-humming and asking the agent what she thought. I cut to the chase. “We decided not to adopt in the states because we don’t want to go special needs again, we refuse to do foster care, and we want children who look like us.” Amy winced at the last requirement—my requirement—but Jane didn’t even flinch at my lack of political correctness. This was in spite of the fact that she and her husband had been mature enough to adopt a child who didn’t look like them.

The caseworker sat up straight. “John is right about those requirements pushing you to adopt internationally. Those same stipulations will pretty much put you somewhere in Eastern Europe or in Russia.”

Amy’s smile showed her intrigue and she let me continue. I moved quickly to find out the advantages and disadvantages of each. I needed data to construct a formula.

Basically, the disadvantage of Anyotherstan was instability. The disadvantage of Russia was cost. Russia would be significantly more expensive. “Russia is pretty much stable all of the time, though,” Jane told us. Famous last words.

Angels can’t imagine the rapture my soul experienced with a word like “stable,” so I was married to Russia from the start. Amy remained quiet with her hands folded. Once again she was prepared to shelf her opinion on fiscal practicality. That made Russia the first choice from the beginning.

As we prepared to leave, Jane didn’t let go of my hand after a cordial shake. “Listen, John. I can tell you like to be in control. That will be your biggest difficulty in doing an adoption from Russia. The Russians move at their own speed. You might as well try to push a rope as push the Russians. If you want to delay your adoption, try to rush it. International adoption always requires a lot of waiting.”

That didn’t exalt my soul quite as much as the word “stable” did. I’m still a bit quicker than prototype solar cars. When I read a book on how to make a billion dollars, written by someone who owns an island, I do what they tell me to do. “I can control myself when I need to. Count on me.”

She shook my hand again, quickly let go and shook Amy’s. My wife wrapped her arms around the agent and Jane hugged her back. She told us she looked forward to working with us.

We set sail.