Any guy can be a dad. All it takes is opportunity and lively sperm. But just try to adopt a kid and see how easy that is.

First you have to find a kid to adopt. If you go the agency route, you can expect to be paperworked and home-studied to a fare-thee-well. You rarely wind up with a newborn. And you pay big bucks for the privilege — tens of thousands of dollars by the time you’re done. Adopting a baby  via an agency isn’t like having a baby; it’s like filing a lawsuit.

If you go the private adoption route, you’re in a gray (or black) market where you don’t know who to trust — and you’re still out big, possibly even bigger, bucks.

If you adopt domestically, you may have to wait a long time.

If you adopt internationally, the wait may be shorter but the uncertainty far greater. Your baby may arrive sick, or worse, due to abuse or neglect in a country with few or no controls on its orphanages. Your adoption may be derailed in mid-process because your country changes its laws, and countries change laws all the time — often in response to domestic scandals involving allegations of rich Americans “stealing” babies. The language and communications barriers add to your confusion, suspicion and mistrust as you bite your nails.

I’m speaking here from personal experience. Both our kids are adopted. We were involved in Shawn’s life since she was a little girl; taking over as her parents was a long but mostly private process. But we adopted Sam internationally via an agency and had to jump through hoops.

We had to ask friends and associates to write personal references attesting what great parents we’d make. We had to disclose facts about our private lives we’d have much preferred to keep private. We’ll never forget the home-study, where a social worker basically came into our house and white-gloved us. We had to travel to Chile, carrying cash — thousands of U.S. dollars — in a money-belt strapped around my waist.

Biological parents just go out and have kids; but adoptive parents must in effect get a license. And licensure, I am about to argue, leads to better parenting.

Biological parents tend to have kids early, adoptive parents late. We all know stories about young kids who weren’t ready for kids of their own, but adoptive parents are ready. They’ve been through failed pregnancies, miscarriages, repeated doctor visits featuring invasive medical procedures and violent drugs, IVF (which, by the way, costs a fortune and often doesn’t work), etc. etc. They are better established in life. They have a few bucks (or else they couldn’t afford adoption, let me tell you). Most important, they really want to have kids — and they’re willing to put up with tons of B.S. to do it.

They’ve given lots of thought to the mistakes their own parents made (and what they did right), and resolved to learn from those lessons. They’ve had plenty of time to consider what sort of parents they want to be, and what sort they don’t want to be. One small personal example: When Carol and I adopted Sam, I wanted to be an active dad. I figured I’d need strength — physical strength — to be that sort of parent, but I was 43 years old, overweight and out of shape. I joined a gym and set about changing myself. Regular exercise is a hard habit to gain, as anyone who’s tried knows, but I did it. I not only enjoyed Sam’s growing-up far more than I might otherwise have, but I changed my own life for the better. I still go to that gym.

I believe that, because I am not related by blood to my kids, I am actually a better parent. My ego is ever-so-slightly less at stake. I don’t fall into parenting traps quite so easily. At least, that’s what I’ve come to believe.

These thoughts were triggered by a conversation the other night with Shawn. She doesn’t like the term “adoptive parent” and neither do I. Of course it is factually correct to distinguish “adoptive” from “biological” parents, but she and I both resent the implication that “adoptive” parents are second class. Did I mention that Shawn adopted her son Kai as a single mom at age 38? That her desire to devote all her love, care and attention to a kid for some 20 years (and after that, forever, as all parents know) trumped not having a significant male other in her life; trumped workload; trumped career jeopardy; trumped cost; trumped everything? Now Kai is almost 7, loves the Nationals, and is his baseball team’s home-run hitter. And my only grandson (so far).

No family could be closer than ours. Shawn lives not 10 minutes away. We see her and Kai all the time, several times a week. She invited her closest friends to the beach house she rented last week, and we made the cut. Sam, who’s finishing up at NYU, talks to us all the time on the phone, often several times a day. They may not be perfect kids — nobody’s perfect — but there are no better kids in the world.

Happy Father’s Day.

Frank Joseph
www.tolovemercy.com

P.S. To Love Mercy wins another award! Honorable mention, teen fiction, New York Book Festival! Visit http://www.newyorkbookfestival.com/event/details.asp?event_id=9. TO LOVE MERCY has now won six awards, garnered 22 five-star reviews on Amazon, and is in its second printing. To Love Mercy [ISBN 0-9744785-3-9] is available in bookstores everywhere, on Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/Love-Mercy-Frank-S-Joseph/dp/0974478539/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/105-3906176-5275626?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1182086750&sr=8-1 or at our website where you can get autographed copies. Visit http://www.tolovemercy.com/to_love_mercy_online_sales.html.