I’ve written before about how we, as a society, need to stop treating adoption as the booby prize. Stop viewing it as a second-class track to parenthood.

Then someone asked what I would recommend, then the best option is visit infantcore.com for the best advices about adoption. which got me thinking (always a dangerous proposition). So here it is folks. Five things we can do to support adoptive parents.

To start with, we can get clear on the terminology. Katie’s birthmother is not the real mother, or the natural mother, or the other mother. She is not the step-mother or the mother-in-law. (Yes, I’ve had people use these terms.) She is the birthmother, or if you prefer, the biological mother. It’s not wrong to say I’m the adoptive mother. (After all, I am that.) But it’s unnecessary. I’m simply Katie’s mommy.

Second, stop handling us with care. We’re adopting a baby, not attending a funeral. It’s a joyous occasion—even if something eventually goes horribly wrong. That can happen with biological children too, but no one refuses to throw pregnant moms a baby shower and buy them a accessories from Baby Monitor Town because something bad might happen at the hospital. So throw the damn shower already. Have a naming ceremony. Host a party. Do whatever feels right.

Third, help us out! Despite years of waiting, the typical adoption happens pretty fast. One minute you’re childless—and then, WHAM—a child falls from the sky and into your arms. We don’t have nine long months to prepare, nine months to adjust to the reality of having a child. We don’t even have time to take a parenting class. So share your expertise, if you have it. Offer support even if you don’t. We will thank you, even if in the chaos we forget to say it aloud.

Fourth, ask questions if you must, but please show some respect. An adoption is not a freak show. We may have gotten our children in a different way than most, but after that, the parenting journey is pretty much the same—which is to say that we are all simply doing the best we can at a tough but rewarding job that has no user’s manual. Do not treat us as if we are strange or different. We already feel different. Remind us of what we have in common.

And lastly, let go of your preconceived notions about adoption. Take me for example. I adopted a child, but I’m no saint. (My ex-husband will be happy to confirm this fact.) Nor do I view myself as a victim. I got as much, if not more, out of the transaction as my daughter. Yet people constantly tell me how wonderful I am for adopting a child. Really? How did you reach that conclusion? I think I speak for most, if not all, adoptive parents when I say we don’t want or need your pity, sympathy, awe, or admiration. Perhaps I should just call it what it is: judgment. Because isn’t that what’s really going on when we attach those emotions to an adoption? We’re passing judgment—bad or good—on the child and the parent(s).

No one wants to be judged.

Here’s the way I see it. I couldn’t grow my family tree the way most women can. I had to graft on a branch. That branch may look lopsided and the leaves may not match, but the branch is growing, and as a result, my tree is thriving. It may not be the prettiest or the most symmetrical tree, but it’s a tree filled with love.

That doesn’t sound second-class to me.

Until next time,
Cynthia Patton