It comes up almost every time I discuss my infertility and subsequent childlessness with someone. Have you ever thought about adoption? Of course, they usually have no idea themselves, it’s just a comment that takes some of the awkwardness out of the conversation (because how else do you react to the grief of someone’s childlessness?)
What they don’t realize is the plethora of thoughts it sends scurrying through my brain, trying to decide which response I should use this time and still walk away without breaking down and with a veneer of dignity intact.
The brush off? “Oh, it’s not really for us.”
The conversation changer (a little bit of truth then shift the focus)? “Yes, but we weren’t able to. So where are you going for your holidays this year?”
The pious? “We weren’t able to, it wasn’t meant to be.”
The joker (because hiding your vulnerabilities behind humour is a great idea)? “Why? Do you know where I can get a child?”
The passive aggressive? “Adoption? No, never heard of it. Why don’t you tell me more?”
The sarcastic? “We’ve been dealing with infertility for 15 years and investigating all possible avenues of starting a family, but this is the first time I’ve ever heard of adoption. Thank you!”
The protective (hide the pain at all costs)? “It’s not something I feel comfortable talking about.”
The fact giver? “Actually, did you know that adoptions in Australia are notoriously difficult? They cost an average of $40 000, are filled with invasive questionnaires and interviews about intimate aspects of your life, and take an average of 5-7 years? Some people are even matched with a child only to have the overseas adoption agreements change and the whole process come to halt.”
The real truth? “Yes!! We were working for a charitable organization overseas (caring for abandoned and special needs children) when we found an abandoned baby in a box. Although we had to hand her in to authorities, we knew that this was going to be our child – so we began the process of adopting her, filled with excitement and faith that our dreams of starting a family were finally going to become a reality!
But we were blindsided with a very firm no. You don’t have the required assets; your BMIs are too high; your husband has not completed a high enough level of education. You do not meet the criteria to be eligible to adopt.
The emotional responses hit like a tidal wave.
Denial. We’ll apply again, they might give a different response.
Anger. No one wants her but we can’t give her a home?
Grief. We can’t adopt any child. We will never be parents.
Heartbreak. She has been adopted by another family.
So yes, we have considered adoption. Thank you so much for bringing it up and dragging up all the heartbreaking emotions that we had successfully dealt with.
The reality? Usually something socially acceptable along the lines of: “We looked into it but didn’t meet the requirements.”
Meanwhile my brain continues churning, trying to protect my heart: (Please don’t let them see how close I am to breaking down. Why do they feel need to probe my life like this? Why do I feel the need to justify myself? How is it that people can suggest adoption so easily without having any idea of the emotional, financial and time costs involved? I’m about to lose it!)
Because nobody wants to know the truth, they just offer the suggestion as a quick fix or a way to move on from the uncomfortable feelings of not knowing how to respond to childlessness. Oh, and they mean well. I’ll have to wait until I get home to deal with the emotions yet again.
Ruth Muller