Update 2013: Since writing this post, my wife and I have adopted 4 children. We are so blessed and are very lucky to be their parents. Go here to learn more about the adoption process.
- We adopted Preston cutest little afro puff.
- We adopted Mylie sweet little baby girl.
- We adopted Lakin my little ball of energy and joy.
- We adopted Norah but I haven’t written about it yet.
After about 3 months in the process, we adopted a baby boy – a special and precious and healthy 7lb 2oz, 20 inch baby boy.
The adoption process was an experience — a lot of waiting time, over-processing, and really full of waste, and a lot of joy also. It’s an interesting business because it pretends that it is not a business. Unfortunately, the laws of supply and demand still play and the basic courtesies of customer service are still relevant, but there are government regulations that make this business a little different. Emotions are a big player in this space too, which encourages those in the adoption industry to continue playing the “we’re not a regular business” game.
Needless to say, we’re very excited and that all the fuss, paperwork, and waiting was worth it. Indeed, the laws of the Psychology of Queueing hold — the more valuable the service, the more waiting and fuss the customer is willing to put up with.
Nevermind that for now, but more on the process later. We’ve adopted and we’ll be bringing him home today. We’re excited for this new chapter in our life!
I want to leave with a little note from my main Asian Brother, Guy, that is pretty descriptive of how I feel:
You can love an adopted child as much as a biological one. A man’s contribution to a pregnancy lasts about ten seconds — five if he told the truth — three if you asked the mother. And yet I’ve met many men who who were skeptical about adoption because they didn’t think they could bond with a child that didn’t have their DNA — ie, the ten-second commitment. This is simply not true: when you hold your precious jewel for the first time, no one cares if none of those chromosomes came from you. Certainly not the baby. Certainly not your wife. So get over it. Your DNA isn’t the Holy Grail — to mix several metaphors.