The Kid: What Happened After My Boyfriend and I Decided to Go Get Pregnant by Dan Savage Page A
Authors: Dan Savage
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most birth mothers seemed to want Christian homes for their babies, we had a stack of checks to write. Unlike most agencies, ours does not demand a lump sum up front but instead staggers payments over time. This makes the cost less burdensome, according to the head of the agency, making it possible for po' folks to adopt. But adoption's still expensive. The seminar cost $350. Next up was the Application Fee, $600, followed by the Family Preparation & Homestudy Fee, $2,175. Then there was the Pool Entry Fee, $3,080, and, if a birth mother picked us, the Adoption Mediation & Planning Fee, $4,650. If we got the kid, there was a Placement Fee, $2,100. The agency fees would add up to $12,455, but the fee schedule warned additional costs: “travel, medical expenses, legal fees, and birth-mother adoption-related living expenses when appropriate and desired by all parties.” We could expect to spend somewhere between $13,000 and $15,000.
Looking at the payment schedule, it was hard not to get the feeling we were buying a baby on the installment plan.
We also left Portland with a stack of handouts. The most helpful, though not in the way the agency intended, was “10 Reasons Not to Adopt a Child.” I read it aloud to Terry as we drove out of Portland (“Never to return, hopefully,” said Terry), and from it we learned what not to say in any of our upcoming meetings with agency counselors. For example, we shouldn't say we'd been growing apart and hoped a child might bring us closer together,or that we wanted someone in our lives who had to love us. And we shouldn't say we wanted a child so he could accomplish things in life that we hadn't, and we shouldn't say we were adopting because we felt sorry for orphans. There was nothing in “10 Reasons Not to Adopt a Child,” however, about adopting kids because you wanted to have a hobby, prove a point, or get fat.
Our next appointment was a final intake interview. A week after the seminar, we sat down in a small office with the agency's Seattle-based counselor, Marilyn. Marilyn told us that the agency was willing to work with us, that we seemed like good candidates for open adoption, and that she was sure there was a birth mom out there for us. As we left, she advised us to get cracking on the paperwork.
And there was quite a lot of paperwork to crack. In addition to a homestudy written by the agency, we would have to fill out application forms, compile health histories, sign releases for financial information, authorize criminal background checks, obtain letters of reference, and write our autobiographies. The end of the seminar was really just the beginning of the paperwork. During the home study, an agency counselor would come to our house, sit down with us, and ask us what the hell we thought we were doing. If our relationship outlasted the paperwork phase of the adoption process, our final act before entering the pool would be to write a “Dear Birthparent . . .” letter.
When it was time for a birth mom to select a family for her baby (after she was six months pregnant and had had some counseling), she was given “Dear Birthparent . . .” letters to review. Writing our letter, Bob and Kate had warned us, would be the hardest part of the paperwork. Each birth mother got a personalized set of the “Dear Birthparent . . .” letters. That way, if she was carrying a multiracial child, she wouldn't be shown letters from couples not interested in adopting such a baby. The birth mom then picked out one or two couples from the “Dear Birthparent . . .” book and got their home studies to read, as well as their autobiographies. She then selected one couple. The agency called the couple, set up a meeting, and introduced the birth mom to her first-choice couple. The birth mom or the couple could say no; when that happened, the birth mom moved on to her next choice, and the couple went back in the pool. But if the birth mom liked thecouple, and the couple liked the birth mom,
Looking at the payment schedule, it was hard not to get the feeling we were buying a baby on the installment plan.
We also left Portland with a stack of handouts. The most helpful, though not in the way the agency intended, was “10 Reasons Not to Adopt a Child.” I read it aloud to Terry as we drove out of Portland (“Never to return, hopefully,” said Terry), and from it we learned what not to say in any of our upcoming meetings with agency counselors. For example, we shouldn't say we'd been growing apart and hoped a child might bring us closer together,or that we wanted someone in our lives who had to love us. And we shouldn't say we wanted a child so he could accomplish things in life that we hadn't, and we shouldn't say we were adopting because we felt sorry for orphans. There was nothing in “10 Reasons Not to Adopt a Child,” however, about adopting kids because you wanted to have a hobby, prove a point, or get fat.
Our next appointment was a final intake interview. A week after the seminar, we sat down in a small office with the agency's Seattle-based counselor, Marilyn. Marilyn told us that the agency was willing to work with us, that we seemed like good candidates for open adoption, and that she was sure there was a birth mom out there for us. As we left, she advised us to get cracking on the paperwork.
And there was quite a lot of paperwork to crack. In addition to a homestudy written by the agency, we would have to fill out application forms, compile health histories, sign releases for financial information, authorize criminal background checks, obtain letters of reference, and write our autobiographies. The end of the seminar was really just the beginning of the paperwork. During the home study, an agency counselor would come to our house, sit down with us, and ask us what the hell we thought we were doing. If our relationship outlasted the paperwork phase of the adoption process, our final act before entering the pool would be to write a “Dear Birthparent . . .” letter.
When it was time for a birth mom to select a family for her baby (after she was six months pregnant and had had some counseling), she was given “Dear Birthparent . . .” letters to review. Writing our letter, Bob and Kate had warned us, would be the hardest part of the paperwork. Each birth mother got a personalized set of the “Dear Birthparent . . .” letters. That way, if she was carrying a multiracial child, she wouldn't be shown letters from couples not interested in adopting such a baby. The birth mom then picked out one or two couples from the “Dear Birthparent . . .” book and got their home studies to read, as well as their autobiographies. She then selected one couple. The agency called the couple, set up a meeting, and introduced the birth mom to her first-choice couple. The birth mom or the couple could say no; when that happened, the birth mom moved on to her next choice, and the couple went back in the pool. But if the birth mom liked thecouple, and the couple liked the birth mom,
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