My wife and I decided to adopt. That was over four years ago. The first step in the process was to go to an introductory class which provided an overview as to what to expect. The first step was also the last step. I couldn’t tell you why we didn’t continue at that time. I guess I could lay out some standard reasons: life got in the way, it wasn’t right for us at that moment, we couldn’t afford it. Who knows? I’m not sure any of the reasons rose above the level of pathetic excuse, nor am I sure they weren’t valid. What I do know is we put adoption on the back burner. Not the one at the back of the stove. The one behind that. Way behind that.
Jump ahead three years. Once again, the notion came to the forefront. I honestly couldn’t tell you what the trigger was, but at roughly the same moment, my wife and I decided it was time to adopt. Things were clicking in our lives. We were financially stable. We both thought it would be a good thing. We both wanted it. And if you need a reason, that’s it, I suppose. We actually agreed on something. What better reason could there be to move forward? From that moment on, we would encounter nothing but smooth seas. Husband and wife working together. A joyous union of like-minded individuals. Two people exceptionally qualified to guide a child through the trials and tribulations of life.
You see, I’ve spent half my life working with teenagers. They’re awesome people. My wife couldn’t pass a baby without picking it up and trying to convince me how wonderful it would be to have another one of those around the house.
Me: One of those? Oh, no. I’m too old to be raising babies.
Her: A teenager. I don’t think I can handle a teenager.
OK. A small crack appeared in the hull of the unity ship. Nothing that couldn’t easily be fixed with a simple conversation, and we would be unified again. Smooth sailing. Except she wouldn’t listen. Sometimes that woman can be so stubborn, especially when she thinks she’s right. She couldn’t see the incredible upsides of adding a teenager to the house. They know who they are. They can feed themselves. You can talk to them like adults. You get to teach them how to drive. Maybe I should have left the last one off my ‘convincing’ list. To be honest, my real list went something like this. Not many people want to adopt a teenager. They think they’re bad news and messed up and they’re going to steal your car and they’re not going to respond to you as parents etc. … but I’ve worked with teens and I think they’re cool people. I’ve guided many through rough spots. They’ve guided me through some of my own. Besides, I figured, if we adopted a sixteen-year-old every two years, by the time I retired we’d have eighty children, give or take a few.
My wife’s arguments went something like this. Babies are better and blah, blah, blah. See what I mean? Stubborn and never listens.
Actually, she agreed that adopting a baby would be wrong, because, and this we both agreed on, I’m too old to be raising babies. Her new ideal age for a child became eight years old. She had her reasons. I’m sure they were good. Side note: My wife says one of my biggest problems is that I don’t listen to her and I get easily sidetracked. That’s ridiculous. And that makes two problems. Both of which I categorically deny.
Anyway, we decided to move forward and leave the trivialities for later in the process. The most important thing was that we were finally going to take the first step. Again. And this time we were ready, willing, and prepared. We knew exactly what we were getting ourselves into.
Until our first training session ….