Love and the law: An adoption story.

On November 21, 2011, I adopted my own children.

When we sat down with our attorney last February to discuss how to create a legal bond between The Bean & The Bear and I, we expected the unequal, minimally protective status of guardianship at best. The law in Wisconsin states that any single adult or any married couple may adopt children. With the state’s constitutional ban on same-sex marriage or any similar union staunchly in place, families like ours are legally invisible. The agency that licensed us, despite their marketing campaign to recruit same-sex foster parents, told us flat-out that we would have to choose which one of us would be able to adopt the girls. We knew this going into the process and decided before our first home visit that the decision would be made in the best interest of our children.

Adoption Number One: April 4, 2011

So, on April 4, 2011, because she had better health insurance and a more stable salary, Jenn adopted the girls.

The judge spoke quite eloquently about both Jenn and I being the girls’ true parents and how we had done a remarkable job caring for them. He even invited me to testify on the record about my lifelong commitment to the girls, underscoring the importance of providing them a stable, loving family. Sadly, he said, his hands were tied and he could only grant the adoption to one of us.

Our smiles were genuine for two reasons: 1) the awful and uncomfortable impermanence of foster care was over and 2) we had started to work with an attorney from a more progressive county to pursue a two-parent adoption.

In Wisconsin there is adoption (see above), second-parent adoption (i.e. when a mother births and her partner adopts a child), step-parent adoption (i.e. when a biological parent re-marries and their new spouse legally adopts the child), and two-parent adoption (i.e. a mind-blowing new view of archaic and ambiguous law that makes it possible for same-sex partners both to adopt their non-biological children.)

When our attorney first told us about the possibility of a two-parent adoption, I’m pretty sure I said, “Shut the front door” (or something to that effect).

The argument, she told us, was based on the language of the law. Why couldn’t two single adults both petition to adopt if it could be proven to be in the best interest of their children?

We talked it over and decided to go for broke. Guardianship, after all, while good for school permission slips and consenting to medical treatment, still places one parent above the other in status. For example, the legally adoptive parent (Jenn) would petition the court to allow the non-legal parent (Erika) to serve as guardian of the children; Jenn, therefore, would retain the right to dissolve the guardianship at any time, for any reason. A spat over unfolded laundry could turn into a revocation of the non-legal parent’s ties to her children.

We set a date for our two-parent adoption. I had a necklace engraved for Jenn with April 4th on it and we planned to do the same for me with June 27th on it. We continued to put in place all the other pieces that would help our case — life and estate planning, a co-parenting agreement, beneficiary designations, and more.

When our attorney called us in late May to say her firm had to recuse itself from two-parent adoptions until further notice, I could not breathe. There was a case pending in the Court of Appeals, she told us. A couple, not unlike us in the beginning of their relationship, had dissolved. One of the partners accused the other partner of coercing her into the two-parent adoption. She also implicated the law firm, the guardian ad litem, and the judge  in allegedly forcing her into a two-parent adoption. All allegations were ultimately proven false when the case died in the Court of Appeals, but because of the timing, this one person held hostage every other same-sex family in the state. Our court date was cancelled. We regrouped.

Our choice at that point was to drop any pursuit of a legal relationship between the girls and I or for Jenn to petition for guardianship in our home county, the most powerful conservative county in Wisconsin. It was unacceptable to me to give up, so Jenn filed and we held our breath.

On August 12, 2011, our attorney presented our case before a known conservative judge. No other same-sex couple had achieved guardianship in our home county. Even if granted, a guardianship was not what we wanted. Our enthusiasm ran low.

We testified in a courtroom where rules about dress, conduct and how to address the judge were laminated beneath the glass of the briefing table. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. It did not take the judge long to make his decision, but it took him ten whole minutes to render it. He had no choice but to rule against the petition, he said, because our children were not proven to be in need of a guardian. My heart pounded my eardrums. Powerless.

Co-Guardianship (with our attorney): August 12, 2011

Fortunately, the guardian ad litem on our case this time had experience with this judge and had coached our attorney on how to implement a plan B:  petition for co-guardianship. To this day, I do not understand why this changed the judge’s mind, but it did in a matter of seconds. With another swipe of a pen, Jenn retained her status as the girls’ legally-adoptive parent and we both gained status as court-appointed co-guardians. It was something, but not enough to infuse our smiles with joy. (Our attorney was thrilled because it was a first for this particular county. The Bean and the Bear only smiled because they were buzzing on fruit snacks and Capri Sun.)

We had a laugh about making T-shirts that read “Who’s your co-Guardian”, provided copies of the orders to school and the pediatrician and went about finishing the emotionally exhausting process of life and estate planning.

In late September, our attorney informed us that the Court of Appeals case had died and that, while she could no longer represent us on an adoption matter in another county (again, for reasons I do not understand), another attorney had continued to achieve two-parent adoptions despite the Court of Appeals debacle. We took his name. My Grandma Clare had just entered hospice. I had just left my job. I was starting my own business.

I had nothing left to give.

Jenn took it on. We had to rush because the tax law changes and the adoption tax credit will no longer be granted as a refund after 2011. She contacted the new attorney, arranged for a home study, coordinated with another new guardian ad litem. Our biggest concern was getting a court date as we were limited to one judge in one county. The timeline for everything? One month. Anyone who’s been through the adoption process knows the miracle required in this situation.

On November 20, 2011, we packed the Bean and the Bear into our (yes) minivan and made the long drive to the hotel. We played in the pool, ordered pizza, and warded off “first night in a hotel” ghosts at 1, 2, 3 and 4 o’clock in the morning. On November 21, 2011, We ate sausage and cereal, dressed the girls in their pretty clothes and sparkly shoes, and headed to the courthouse. Everything about it seemed too easy.

We arrived at the courthouse, this time very unceremoniously. We met the guardian ad litem in person for the first time. We met our attorney for the first time. Ten minutes later, we entered the courtroom. Ten minutes after that, thanks to a handful of brilliant legal maneuvers, one of which required Jenn to legally terminate her parental rights for roughly twenty seconds, it was finished.

Jenn and I were both named, by court order, the girls’ legally adoptive parents. Equally. Both our names would (and do) appear on the girls’ birth certificates as if they were born to us. (How much do I want to wave that in the face of the haters while shouting, ‘Plumbing my ass!’).

Adoption Number Two: November 21, 2011

It feels different to be a legally recognized parent to my children. I felt wholly their mother before, but now — I can be their mother free of the paranoia that comes with being a gay, non-legal parent in my home  state where, for so long, I felt invisible.

I remember sitting in my car before one of my graduate seminars Fall 2006. Public radio was covering the then-proposed constitutional ban on same-sex marriage that would appear as a ballot referendum the following month. The guest that hour was a Republican assemblyman from the northeast corner of Wisconsin.

He said, “There is no need for gay marriage. Any homosexual couple can go to an attorney and have papers drawn up that will give them all the rights and protections they could get with marriage.”

We went to an attorney. In fact, we went to two attorneys (after consulting with two others). What follows is an invoice and proverbial middle finger to that arrogant, lying blowhard.

• Legal Name Changes ……….$750 (free with marriage)
• Domestic Partner Registration……….$125 (same cost and responsibilities as marriage; 1/4 of the state rights/protections and no federal rights/protections)
• Initial Consultation with Attorney……….$300
• Co-parenting Agreement……….$1,000 (to illustrate intent to parent together & foundation for all other legal matters regarding the security of our family; straight couples need only open a cheap bottle of wine)
• Life & Estate Planning (more involved for same-sex couples)……….$3,650
• Co-Guardianship……….$6,535
• Legal fees associated with Adoption Number One (failed attempt)……….$925
• Adoption Number Two (including home study)……….$9,500

GRAND TOTAL……… $22, 785

We will recoup the cost of the second adoption via write-off and earn a tax credit for the first adoption.

A straight married couple adopting through foster care in Wisconsin would pay nothing and would obtain a tax credit.

The emotional strain on us as a same-sex couple going through these unpredictable, invasive, redundant legal processes is something our straight counterparts do not experience. We found it odd that in our initial consultation, our attorney focused heavily on the possible dissolution of our relationship. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense that a relationship — even one like ours — would not survive.

Still, every step was necessary and we would do more if the law allowed it.

Such strange bedfellows, love and the law.

Both are needed for any family to make it, but only one is present when I lean over to pull up their covers, kissing their hair before I tiptoe back to my room.