What you think matters...and then what really does.

So a lot of single people ask me what it's like to adopt as a single person. I can't really answer that definitively because I'm still learning every day what that means. I didn't adopt because I wanted to be a single parent (or let's be real, a parent at all), I adopted because Mychael and Malcolm needed a Mother. It just so happens that their misfortune didn't necessarily fit into the vision of my perfect life. I was just as hesitant and nervous as anyone would be and I'm still discovering the impact of adoption in terms of how that relates to my own personal (dating) life. There were a lot of things I didn't consider, but considering how fortunate my life has been, I'm not sure I had the right to do so. Because at what point does my getting to have EVERYTHING in life be easy become less important than a child getting to have something in life be less than completely difficult. So since I can't answer any of those questions, I'll just tell the story of when I first thought about "what I would do" from a practical, versus theoretical perspective. Talk is cheap--it's easy to talk, or so I soon discovered.

One time, while working for the San Diego CHOICE Program, my friend and boss Cedric (that was him on the front page of the website, by the way) and I were having a conversation about qualities I expected from my fictitious significant other. Okay, so the conversation didn’t exactly start out like that. What really happened was that I was complaining about some of the foster parents we worked with when he said, “Hey, if you can do better, why don’t you?”

“I would, but what if my future marriage guy didn’t want to be an adoptive parent?” I responded quickly, sincerely believing my logic.

“Would you really want to marry someone who didn’t want to be an adoptive parent?” he asked.

I thought for less than five seconds before answering. “No,” I said. I mean that's the correct answer, right? I guess I had never thought about it like that. Why would I want to spend my life with someone who didn’t feel morally obligated to give back? I believe strongly that when our own family experiences have been positive, it’s our ethical responsibility to pay it forward, but that's a lot easier said than done.

I guess for the most part, I tend to be pretty unsympathetic to children in biological families (including myself). I can’t help but to think that their biological status gives them a social edge that is unjustly denied to adopted children or children in foster care. Besides, I have such high expectations for myself that I am not sure I could be appropriately sympathetic to children I birthed. However, I can’t help but to be sympathetic to children who have survived adversity like foster care and even adoption. Those are unbelievable challenges—ones that I’m not sure I would have been strong enough to overcome. That’s the thing about being the Mom of my kids, I don’t just love, respect and appreciate them. I admire them. I watch them in awe and can’t help but to think, “Wow, they’re amazing.”

Anyway, so recently, another friend and I were discussing prospective dating material. I made sure to point out that anyone who I dated would have to not just accept Mychael and Malcolm, but admire and respect the difficulties they have overcome. I wouldn’t expect the person to love them right away, nor do Mychael or Malcolm, at ages 23 and 20, need a father. Hell, they made it this far without one, why start now? My friend said, “Well, guys might be intimidated by the whole situation.”


“That’s not the guy for me then. I mean please, that intimidates them? Walk a mile in their shoes. Shoot, walk a mile in mine. I'll tell you about feeling intimidated,” I responded quickly, annoyed. I proceeded to list off the other qualities: hot (conspicuously first), hard working (of course), kind, no biological children, fun, etc.

“Okay, so you know that guy doesn’t exist, right?” my friend said.

“Whatever. I'm okay either way,” I said, thinking about how different I felt now, ten years later, than I did during that conversation inside 4500 El Cajon Boulevard in East San Diego. It is what it is and even if you didn't anticipate it, you'd better learn how to roll with it.

It’s funny because you have all these reasons why adoption is such a big risk—why it’s going to somehow hamper your lifestyle, goals and dreams. But that's not how life goes because in the end, you re-evaluate your goals and realize that being happy isn't necessarily defined by how much you can indulge your individual, perhaps selfish, desires (though that is definitely fun to do sometimes). You also discover that you’re more flexible and more resilient than you previously realized. I guess that insight is inevitable considering that once you adopt, you’ll be forever influenced by your children, who just so happen to represent the purest form of strength and resiliency.

It’s funny how your biggest priority prior to becoming an adoptive parent becomes your lowest concern once you’ve secured the position. And besides, sometimes it's just about doing the right thing--walking the walk you talk, practicing what you preach.