From God’s arms, to my arms, to a middle man, to yours.

I had intended to get my ass back to work today but I got two calls that really threw me off. The first from The Adoption Law Center, which from what I understand is essentially a law firm that specializes in adoption. As a lawyer, I naturally was attracted to the known quantities of this prospect, so I sent an email inquiry. They called me several times and I was never available. Then last night they sent me a rather bitchy email which seemed to be scolding me for my lack of response. Today I got another call from them–before they could give me ANY information they had to see if I “qualify.” I’m already so turned off by this company, that it was truly morbid curiosity that led me to continue with the interrogation.

I was asked my height, weight, income, age, health problems (I’ve had diarrhea for days!), whether I have been convicted of anything, what my occupation is, what my husband’s BMI is and WHY we were seeking to adopt. Like…how many options could there be? Besides the standard “we’re having a bit of trouble in that department” and “we’re hoping to spend tens of thousands of dollars on a child who will one day resent us.” What exactly are they hoping to vet out? Seriously? It was gross, and I’m seriously annoyed that I was harassed. It makes me wonder how they treat birth mothers.

Adoption kinda sucks. I realize it may be the only option for us, but it seems to be a slimy business. It’s “babies for sale” no matter how you slice it. Back in the day we could shame women into adopting out their babies. Now we have aggressive marketing campaigns convincing women their child is better off elsewhere, that adopting is the moral thing to do, that they couldn’t possibly care for the child themselves. Maybe it’s true, but maybe not. The point is that there needs to be a stable supply of babies for sad sacks like me. And the middle man takes a hefty profit in between.

All I know is my sister was treated very poorly by the agency when she adopted out her baby girl. Agencies need babies. If it means being condescending, guilt-tripping, pedestalizing, and “counseling,” they are all for it.

The second call was from my doctor’s office who, after nagging, is just now following up on my blood tests which they made me get before they would speak to me about fertility treatment, which OF COURSE show that I miscarried.  I HATE that office. They’re like the Walmart of doctors. I mean that more in a business practice sense than a quality of product sense. The giant medical group has literally driven out most independent physicians in my town. I can’t find an OB that doesn’t work for them. Except that one guy with the 3 month waiting list.

 

Grumble grumble. Moral of the story: don’t have fertility problems.

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One thought on “From God’s arms, to my arms, to a middle man, to yours.

  1. Adoption is an interesting issue. I have three sets of aunts and uncles who through some combination of genetics, lifestyle choices, and fate have been unable to conceive. They’ve all participated in the Arizona foster to adopt program. They’re good people, and have provided good homes to some great kids.

    One aunt in particular writes frequent Facebook statuses about her foster kids’ deadbeat bio mom (she and her husband have been fostering three kids for about a year now). Mr. Litchick sees the other side of thing in his parental defense/grandparents’ rights cases. At least in Utah, the courts (and one American Fork judge in particular) so strongly favor adoption that any mention of parents’ rights often seems like lip service.

    I’m disturbed by the lengths to which agencies will go to coerce teen moms to give up their babies. I certainly wasn’t ready to be a teen mom, and I have no interest in raising a teenage daughter’s kid. The business of adopting babies is messy, and often fraught with legal issues. One family I know in Spokane used an agency that was bordering on the edge of legality with all of its practices. $9,000 and three years later, they’re still dealing with issues regarding questions of the adoption’s finality and such. Boo!

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