Читать книгу Just Breathe - Honey Perkel - Страница 6

Every new step we took in our lives was an adventure, an education, and the subject of adoption was no different. Bob and I needed to get on as many waiting lists as we could to better our chances. Adoptions were not as prevalent as they had been in the 1940s, ’50s, and ’60s. It was now late in 1979 and the stigma for unmarried mothers had greatly diminished. More young women were keeping their babies, so not as many infants were available. And we wanted a newborn. Having had three miscarriages, I felt as though Bob and I had been cheated out of a lot. We wanted it all — to lose precious sleep at night, to change smelly diapers, to see our son or daughter take his first step, and to hear his first words spoken.

Bob and I remained hopeful. We made countless phone calls and were told by agencies we may have to wait up to two years for a baby. We filled out the necessary papers, sat through interviews, and underwent physical exams. Then we dug our heels in and prepared for the long wait. My mom was thrilled, my father not so much. Bringing in another person’s child to the family, “someone else’s mistake”, as he put it, and raising him as our own, well ... he wasn’t sold on the idea.

In January of 1980 there was a big ice storm in Portland, Oregon. Bob and I had an appointment with a case worker at the Boys and Girls Aid Society, which we canceled as driving across town was too dangerous. I changed the appointment for later that month when we met with Darren Warren, a social worker assigned to the Placement Department.

During the interview Darren told us of an instance when a couple came to him, desperate to have a child. They had filled out the paperwork, had their medical exams, and home studies, all the time lamenting how badly they yearned for a child. When finally Darren called them to say there was, indeed, a baby available, they cried with happiness. However, when they saw the newborn, the prospective parents were consumed with disappointment. The baby had red hair!

“‘No one in our family has red hair!’ they told me. ‘This will never work.’ Her husband readily agreed.”

“So what happened?” I asked Darren, mesmerized by his story. “Did they get another baby?”

“Oh, yes,” he responded. “One with blonde hair, and they were thrilled.”

There remained one drawback in this process of adoption. If and when an agency decided to do a home study on Bob and me, we would have to remove our names from all other agency lists.

Children’s Services Division was that agency. Karen Davis came to our house. She looked at our home and examined it for cleanliness, safety, and backyard space to play. She asked to see what would be the baby’s nursery, etc. I was nervous as she made her search; I hoped we’d pass. We checked out clean. There didn’t seem to be any problems.

After the home study, Karen instructed me to routinely telephone her office for any placement news. Adoptions had slowed up considerably, she admitted. She didn’t expect a baby to become available anytime soon, but we should remain in touch just the same.