To Sing Frogs Chapter 4e

Rainbow from our yard in Michigan

Little Miracles must have thought since we turned down one referral and were put back in the infamous line, we learned our lesson and would stop bucking the system.

“I know you… Sorry. I know we said we wanted children who look like us,” Amy said when she called me at work a few days later. (So much for being put back in a never-ending line.) “Anyway, I promised Little Miracles I would pass this referral on and we would talk about it.”

The referral was for three biological siblings from Primorsky, Far East Russia. They were obviously Asian.

My skepticism wasn’t due to racism. No. That’s not true. It was about racism. It couldn’t have been more about racism. It wasn’t about me being racist, though.

I could have an African American child, or a Native American child, or an Asian child who didn’t look like me and I could love and accept her just as much as any of my biological children. The world sees in color. There would be those who wouldn’t approve. The acceptance by others didn’t matter as far as my own situation was concerned, but I didn’t want race to be an obstacle for our child. If I had a sixteen-year-old daughter who told me she didn’t think she fit in with the family and wanted to be with “her people,” it would be akin to an atomic bomb. I don’t deal well with rejection.

The world is racist, that’s a fact. Sometimes I don’t like the world we live in. Then again, why couldn’t I bring myself to deal with a problem caused by racists? Sometimes I don’t like me.

I said no to the Asian referral. I said no to the children who were older than we agreed to adopt. I said no to sibling groups who had a member with special needs. I said no to every type of referral we had told Little Miracles we would refuse when we first filled out our application. I grew more and more furious. By the end, you could have used the veins protruding from my forehead for speed bumps in a parking lot.

“Hello Mr. Simmons, how are you?” Little Miracles’ agent asked as she picked up the line.

“Did Amy and I ever get that adoption application to you?”

“I’m sorry… what?”

“I remember filling out an adoption application that went through the different conditions and types of children we were willing to consider in our adoption. Did we ever get that out to you?”

“Oh, I think I know where this is going. Yes, of course. It was part of the original application.”

“So you got it then.”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m confused.”

“Okay, why?”

“We keep getting referrals that don’t fall within what we described. Would you like to explain to me why that might be?”

“We know the waiting in this process can get daunting. We’re trying to speed things along for you.”

“Gosh. How sweet. I can’t tell you how helpful it is to have you putting me in the position to be the bad guy. Amy and I decided those conditions together. I’m tired of breaking my wife’s heart every time you send her back, asking me to change my mind.”

No response.

“Can you guys follow a contract or not?”

“Of course we can,” the agent said curtly.

“Good. We have an agreement. Follow it or my attorney will end this contract and I’ll find an agency that can follow one.”

“You have made yourself very clear, Mr. Simmons.”

“Oh, gosh, I hope I’ve made it simple enough. I don’t know, though. If there is any question whatsoever I think I can be even more clear. In fact, I’m confident I can make the understanding indisputable.”

The response came back with the intonation of a threat. “That won’t be necessary. You won’t hear back from us until we have a match for exactly what was described in your application.”

“Superb! I knew you’d get it! Thanks so much for your help!”

I would have the family of my dreams, fate be damned.

Amy shuddered when I told her what I did. Then she chewed her fingernails. My wife knew this time we would really be moved to the end of an interminable line. For once I knew she was right.

Within days we received our final referral.