Sometimes it is good to read a book that thoroughly exercises your powers of empathy. That was precisely the kind of mind-exercise that I had to practice while reading The Mothers. I heard the book reviewed on NPR, and as usual I put it on my reading list as soon as I got home (since I'm often in the car while listening to these reviews). NPR has never steered me wrong in my reading material and I can't say The Mothers was an exception, although it was difficult for me to really resonate with empathy for the characters.
The Mothers is a novel about a couple going through the adoption process. What really caused me to add this book to my reading list was not so much that I'm particularly interested in adopting, (or even having a child right now for that matter) but that the book discussion on NPR veered into conversation on how the adoption process causes people to confront their racial and socioeconomic biases. For instance, one of the first steps that every prospective adoptive parent goes through is to figure out what race of child they want to adopt. That dictates everything. It dictates where you adopt from, the number of potential birthmothers, and in some cases even the cost (i.e. black babies are cheaper.) I found this interesting from a social science perspective. No matter how much we talk about tolerance and equality or assert that race doesn't matter, truthfully, it does. This is just one example of the so-called "politically-incorrect" decisions that adoption brings into play. There are many others.
While that's what drew me to the book, those "politically incorrect" decisions really weren't the primary focus of the story. The novel details the adoption journey of Jessie and Ramon, a pushing-forty couple who have been unable to have children. Restrictions and red tape keep them out of the international adoption market, so they opt for a domestic "open" adoption. I learned that open adoption is one in which the adoptive family keeps in contact with the birthmother throughout the child's life. Once Jessie and Ramon make their decision and start down the road toward an open adoption, they find it an uphill battle at every turn. First, they basically need to "sell" themselves to potential birthmothers. This means designing a portfolio introducing themselves as a couple, highlighting their positive qualities and downplaying the negatives (i.e. the fact that they live in a tiny Manhattan apartment). Jessie and Ramon also have to decide whether or not they are comfortable with a child whose mother used drugs or alcohol during the first trimester. While this opens up many more potential birthmoms, is it worth the risk? Are they prepared to parent special needs child?
The Mothers is primarily Jessie's story. As a middle aged woman, surrounded by friends and family pushing strollers and negotiating daycare she feels left out. She doesn't have anything to talk about with her girlfriends anymore. As she sees pictures of newborns on Facebook and children on the playground, her longings for a child get stronger. Potential birthmothers string her along, but ultimately fall through in the end. All the while Jessie's desperation grows.
This is where I really have trouble with empathy. I don't understand that. I'm still at the stage of seeing children in the grocery store and thinking, "Whew, glad I don't have to deal with THAT!" I'd also like to hear the husband's side of the story. He wanted a child too, but did not seem as desperate as Jessie. Why is it always the mother portrayed as the one yearning for kids? I know for a fact that it doesn't always happen that way.
The book also opened my eyes to another aspect of the adoption process. I'd always pictured adoption as being a rather straightforward process in which children are basically lining up at the door for a good home. (kind of like puppies at the shelter) Of course, I've always heard through the grapevine that it's a long and arduous process, but I figured that just meant there was a lot of paperwork and fees. I'd never really considered the fact that in this country at least, it's the other way around - prospective parents are lining up at the door to get a child, trying to sell themselves to sixteen year old girls. That's ironic. Teenage girls, crack addicts and alcoholics ultimately control the fate of so many lives. Internationally, it may be a different story. Certainly there are orphanages filled with children, but Russia has basically shut down adoption to the United States, China has a lot of restrictions regarding prospective parents (i.e. you can't adopt Chinese babies if you have certain health conditions, etc), and political and ethnic turmoil in Africa make it often very difficult to procure a child from that continent. In short, adoption is a good and noble thing. I remain convinced of that. It can be done and many families in my church attest to this. There is nothing quite as special on Child Dedication Sunday as seeing a young multiracial family with an adopted child. But adoption is not a process for the faint of heart. One adoptive mother I talked to in the church nursery recently said that adoption was in some ways just as difficult as pregnancy and giving birth - just in a different kind of way. The moral of the story? Either way you do it, having a child is painful, risky, and a heck of a lot of work.
In short, when and if I'm ever ready, I'm pretty convinced I'm going to just order a custom-made baby from Amazon. Hopefully it'll be eligible for Prime shipping.
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