black babies cost less to adopt.

It’s true. And it’s heartbreaking. But it’s strange.

The adoption process is so much harder than people make it seem.

“If you can’t get pregnant, you can always adopt!”

So many people don’t realize that it costs nearly $30-40,000 for a domestic adoption. Even more for an international adoption. Even harder is the judgment. Being judged about fundraising. Being judged if your worthy parents. Taking classes to educate you on being a parent. Being choosen. All things biological parents who are crafty with their genitals don’t have to worry about.

This article makes me sad. Oof. But I can’t pass judgment (which, if you know me….you know my.  ahem…opinions.) So many people that have traveled the path of adoption have stories as sad as ours. Not all, but so, so many. They had ideas about their families that they can’t make happen. They had visions and dreams for their families future and they want what they deserve.

But I am still sad that these babies are lesser. Undesirable. Unwanted. I want them though. We want them. My husband and I want them. I don’t want these babies to be in places they aren’t wanted or accepted or loved. Our agency does not subsidize children. I would rather our mixed race or African-American child be considered as worthy as any other child. This is an instance where money saving is not and won’t ever be considered by us.

I worry, though. I worry people will think my child doesn’t belong to me. That people will question and judge how a white woman can raise a black child. I even worry people will assume my husband is a stereotype, having a child with someone else other than his wife. The latter doesn’t matter to me— but the judgment does. We fell in love. We got married. We purchased a home. We started a family. We loved and lost and are trying our best to become parents to a baby that we can love and share the world with. You don’t have to do it that way. It’s not “the right” way to do things-but it is how we did it. I don’t appreciate that their are people who will assume we did anything but that.

It’s a reality. One I can do nothing about. But it’s part of the adoption process to consider all of the things that you will be faced with. And to decide that being a family means more to you that anyone else’s narrow-minded opinion.



Newtown, CT.

Moore, OK.

These stories are more than obviously sad. They’re nearly obsessively sad. I can’t turn away from the news. I can’t stop imagining those parents screaming for their children in the instant they lose them. Or the solid feeling in your chest the moment you realize your heart is gone.

To lose your child is…awful. To realize you are unable to provide the comfort, love and calming a child needs in their last moments is…more than awful. There aren’t adequate words to describe that circumstance. But the feeling is very real. And very, very sad.

I turned on NPR to listen to Oklahoma updates on my way home his evening. To my surprise, I heard some very familiar words.

My own words.

Faith Middleton replayed her show on dealing with the loss of a child, in hopes of reaching out again to parents who have lost and those who are left to help them carry on.

I want to leave those words here.

I hope they help.