Fingerprints make a family.

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Our adoption worker arrived with a sturdy black book bound by government-issue gold buckles tucked under her arm. It made her look official, to say the least. This was our first meting with her, which took place in our home a few weeks ago. (The meeting I wrote about earlier was with the permanency consultant who assigned us to this adoption worker who will be with us through our entire home study process.) She entered, took a seat like she’d been taking a seat at our table for years, smiled, and began.

This first meeing centered on rules. We signed form after form agreeing to the various steps in the process we’ve begun. We signed grievance forms, waiver forms, and ‘Yes, we read all the fine print in the Wisconsin State Statutes on Foster Care Placement’ forms. We provided her with copies of our birth certificates, our proofs of insurance cards,  and our federal income tax returns. We answered questions about our intentions as prospective adoptive parents and about what kinds of children we’re open to welcoming into our family. This last part is a conversation that will never feel easy to me.

She warmly answered our questions about what happens when and remarked that we are very open and inviting people. At one point, as we drilled through the stack of papers, she paused. She laid down her pen, tilted her head to one side, and said, “I want you to know that I respect all families and treat all families with deference.” She paused again, looked directly at me, then at Jenn, and said, “You know, many of these forms are not friendly to same-sex couples.”

She didn’t have to mention it, let alone recognize it, but she did. Her choice to do so allowed us to exhale.

After every form was signed, she unbuckled the sturdy black book. The time had come for fingerprints. I don’t mean to lug out my soapbox, but I can’t help but wonder what the world would look like if all parents, biological ones included, had to go through this whole process before receiving children into their lives. Working with abused and neglected children as I have for the past eight months, I can’t help but wonder about the decreased need for counseling services like ours if all the biomoms and biodads out there had to press their fingers in ink and roll them side to side before being deemed suitable for parenthood. Even lacking criminal backgrounds, I can attest to how accountable, how watched this makes one feel.

Questions about who qualifies to be a parent, how we know they’re qualified, and who’s qualfied enough to qualify them are not simple questions. This is to say nothing of the “nature” question, i.e. does certain anatomical plumbing make a couple better parents than another couple with different plumbing and two Master’s degrees in counseling? Does a bottle of wine and lack of protection trump thousands of dollars in legal fees when establishing parental status? For sure, these questions tie to much larger philosophical, theological, political, societal questions that this author can’t begin to manage in this forum. As our worker pointed out, even foster and adoptive parents who jump through all these hoops to receive their gold stars and their kids at the end of it aren’t sure things for the complete health, well-being, and love of those children.

If nothing else, this process affirms for us, with each form we sign, each interview we endure, each finger we print, that we are committed to providing for and loving whatever children find their way to us. After our first meeting, we love our adoption worker. A good match was made. We hope the same will occur at the end, when we receive our gold stars and kids.

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Filed under LGBT, adoption, family, foster care, gay