Who doesn't like to talk about him or herself? I thought I liked it. Now? Not so much.The step in the adoption process subsequnt to the rather ministerial task of filling out the initial adoption application packet required us to complete an "Autobiographical Statement." The term "statement" implies a sentence . The Autobiographical Statement the adoption agency required us to complete was a seventeen page list of questions to be answered essay-style. It should have been called "Manifesto."
The questions were generally along these lines: Describe your family of origin; Describe your relationship with your parents; Describe your relationship with your siblings: Were you disciplined? How?; How will you discipline your children?; Describe how your parents met; Describe your parents' educations; etc.. When we decided to adopt, I knew the agency would be interested in me and my husband; I did not know of the extent of its interest in my parents. How tempting it was to say, "My Dad sells opium and my Mom works at Lovers Package."
After pages of questions about our respective parents, there were pages of questions about how my husband and I met, our conflict-resolution styles (bare-knuckle boxing); our views on discipline, what we did in our spare-time , and our assessment of the other's "weaknesses." Then there were the questions about our religious or spiritual beliefs. For forty-years I have been unable to articulate with any specificity just what my beliefs are, although they make sense to me. Now I was asked to tidy them up and place them in a pretty box for the agency's perusal.
One of my biggest character flaws is the expectation that when I wish to communicate information regarding myself or my opinions, others will care and will listen; however, I respond with righteous indignation should I be asked to offer such information at a time or under circumstances in which I am not in the mood to provide it. So the Autobiographical Statement sat on a desk for a few weeks while I fumed and pouted.
Clearly, the adoption agency must fashion a way to weed-out the pedophiles and the sociopaths from the pool of adoption applicants. But would those people really answer the Autobiographical Statement in a revealing way? Would such an applicant say, for example, that he prefers to sit around all day smoking pot while collecting government assistance, watching his man-boobs grow? Or that he likens himself to the killer in "Silence of the Lambs" that put his victims in a pit and yelled to them, "PUTS THE LOTION ON!" while wearing a dress? Unlikely, unlikely.
Answering these questions was problematic mostly because I lacked an objective standard against which my answers were to be evaluated. For example, if I had said I didn't believe in God, would that, alone, disqualify me as an adoptive parent? I do believe in God, but you get my point. What if I had been raised in a commune and I reported to the agency that the experience was a positive one that I hope to have again some day. Would that disqualify me as a parent? What if I said I go outside at midnight during each full moon, stripped naked, and pull the petals off of a boquet of roses? Would that disqualify me? Honestly, I don't think these answers are seen on Autobiographical Statements. People pretty much know what to say, because they know what is seen as "normal." In addition supplying answers that can't really be seen as "right" or "wrong," the answers would be fairly easy for a weird person to fake. Which shouldn't bother me since I don't consider myself or my husband of the wierd variety so I'm not sure why I got all worked up about it. But still . . .
My husband said that if I wanted to adopt I had to fill out the questions - "play the game."
After I answered the questions, however, I realized that the questions were not for the agency but for me. I needed to think again about issues I've taken for granted for so long. Issues such as how I'm going to do things differently, if at all, from the way I was raised to evaluating my husband's weaknesses.
And there's something that my husband said about me in his Autobiographical Statement that made the whole process worth the effort. He said I fall in love quickly and completely. I do, but I worry that others see me as guarded and careful. I don't want to be seen that way. What a gift in one sentence.
I finished the Autobiographical Statement a year ago. I haven't looked at it since.
13 comments:
I know what you mean about pouting/fuming about a statement to make about oneself. I had to do something similar for Madison recently (an application for a magnet school, though it doesn't compare to being screened as a parent). I also came upon another obstacle when I was forced to only check ONE box or our application would be rejected. Was Madison, Asian? Or was she Caucasian? Just check ONE box. My husband said the same thing your husband did when I started talking to myself. "Just play the game."
Argh!
I liked it when you said, "I realized that the questions were not for the agency but for me."
Perhaps that was true. They don't really want to know that stuff about you, but they want you to think about those things. I'm sure you had to do multiple interviews, and perhaps this was more of a preparation for that.
I don't know. I have no point of reference.
not only are they looking for those weirdo answers, they are also looking for the fakey fakerpants answers. Not having any problems is just as much a red flag as having too many.
Maybe it has been a year, but once the impact's been made/the knowledge arrived at (or whatever the hell that observation was by someone very smart) - it's a done deal and there you are. Changed.
This is THE most fascinating process you're going through. I just thought I should admit that we have friends who've recently returned with beeeeoooootiful babies, but said friends weren't so forthcoming and articulate about things, so it was all one big fat mystery.
I like mysteries solved, I guess.
This entry can go hand in hand with what you wrote at the top of your blog. You need very specific qualifications to adopt a child, but not to biologically have one. That to me is amazing. Obviously, there is no way to actually prevent people from having babies but I wish there was way.
Very good post Leezer. I think more people should step back and take a look at what is really important to them. The world would be a happier, more fulfilled place.
Mae:
I understand completely. I was filling out an application for Georgia to go to a fancy-pants school (I think Bill Gates went there) and one of questions was "Tell us how your child will contribute to the diversity of the school." Well first of all, my daughter is white, and she's healthy and has opposite sex-parents and she doesn't have any disabilities. I didn't know what to say so I never filled it out.
Think Jacob Profound Man:
Yes, you're very right. I have examined myself to the point I'm sick of me. I guess I just assumed everyone else does the same thing. Maybe not, and the agency has to make sure everyone has thought these things through. Still, my response, if people hadn't thought of these things, would be DUH.
Anon:
"Fakey fakerpants." Ha ha! Yes, they're probably pretty well-versed in those.
Booda Baby:
That's right. I filled out the answers, I did the math. I benefit in the end, right?
I'm surprised at how many people don't talk about the process. I think it's because we - I - don't want to be seen as complaining, which isn't what I hope to communicate. THat said, it is awfully consuming. It isn't for the weak at heart.
Thanks for your nice comment, Naynay. When I was going through infertility stuff, I would go into court and prosecute petty thefts and misdemeanors. These women would bring along three, four different kids, all by different fathers, and the Mom would be like 25. The kids would sit there in court with her like it was a normal day at the doctor's office or something, but she'd be charged with DUI or assault or something. I would never let my mind wander to that dark place where you think, "It isn't fair, it isn't fair...."
I used to work for the medicaid branch of Horizon Blue Cross and Blue Shield in Trenton, NJ and I too witnessed women who were 18-25 with 2,3,4+ kids. At first I was shocked and appalled but like anything you deal with every day, I got used to it. I never say, "it's not fair" but I do, from time to time, think about how f'ed up it is. All I can do is hope I raise my kids the best I can. Also I hope my nephew grows up to be a good guy. That is all I can hope for.
Naynay:
You're smart. I don't do the it's not fair-thing either. Because I have a disabled sister who is older than I am, I grew up with seeing life's unfairness. It's sort of freeing, not having to worry about fairness. It's a time waster. Life isn't fair. Plus, what's the objective standard? The person who seems to have it all is often the most unhappy. Wherever you go, there you are.
Leezer: I love what your husband said. Falling in love quickly and completely is true for me, too, and my husband has pointed it out as both a strength and a weakness. I can see how it has its bad points, but more than anything I think that a capacity to love like that is the greatest thing about a person. And now I guess I sound pretty darn full of myself.
Oh, and in response to your comment to Naynay -- You're a better person than I am. Working in a peds office outside of Trenton, NJ, we get our share of impoverished, broken families, where the kids have been emotionally abandoned and the mother is simply more interested in getting her welfare check each month than she is in taking responsibility for herself or her offpsring. 24 years old, 5 kids under the age of 5, sure, why not? Let's just say I let my mind go there.
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