Adoption Update

I'm sorry, I just need to get this out.

To avoid sounding like a total downer, let me first update you on a couple of the exciting things that have happened in regards to our adoption.  Our application has been processed and is now on file with the agency.  This is really happening!  We are signed up to go to a required adoption seminar in February, and our sweet friends paid for it for us.  I'm actually looking forward to the seminar because I'm thinking that it will help us answer a lot of the questions that have been floating around in our heads.  This weekend, we have been working on a photo book for birth moms to view when they come to the agency to choose an adoptive family.  We have had a great time going through old photos and reminiscing about life since we met six-and-a-half years ago.  All of the above is a fun part of the process!

Here is the part where I need to just vent for a second.  We got our home study packet in the mail this week.  I don't really know what I was expecting it to be, but I certainly wasn't expecting a small novel full of detailed questions for us to answer.  Some of the normal questions are fine, such as, "Who is in your immediate family?", "Where did you go to school?", and "What kind of work do you do?"  Others seem invasive and ridiculous.  "List all traffic tickets you received during the past five years, including non-moving violations."  "How much are your vehicles worth?"  "Please list any and all allergies."  I'm sorry, but I am failing to see how the answers to any of the last three (and equally trivial questions in the packet) have any bearing on what kind of parents we will be.

I'm not mad at Deaconess.  I know that they have to ask those questions, and I do appreciate that they don't let just anyone walk in from off the street and adopt a child.  Truly.  I guess I'm just frustrated with the way the world works.  Why doesn't anyone ask 15-year-old, unemployed Joe Schmo, who gets his girlfriend pregnant, any questions?  He and his girlfriend don't have to tell anyone how much money they make, how many grades or classes they have had to repeat (?!), or what kind of auto insurance they have.  They might be terrible parents, but no one questions them about any of it.      

I know that all of this will be more than worth the trouble when we get to hold that sweet baby in our arms.  I know that we won't have any regrets about answering five billion questions as honestly and completely as we can.  I can't wait to tell our child about the process one day and say, "We did all of this for you!"  (I already love that kiddo so much.)  But until then... my goodness.  I'm not the world's biggest fan of being under such scrutiny.