Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

I don’t do this annually, but sometimes I write about adoption. November is National Adoption Month, and even though it’s not something I write about all the time, it’s an occasional topic for me. I have something of an inside perspective on this. My son Paul, age nine, is adopted.

We adopted Paul on the first day he was born, back in 2014. My wife and I had been in the process for about a year and a half, with an agency called American Adoptions. I can’t say enough about how wonderful this company was; if you’re interested in adopting, I highly recommend American Adoptions. We were matched with a birth mom in June, and then got the call that the baby was about to be born.

So we drove to New Orleans. Paul was born that morning, and we arrived that evening. And we were taken to a hospital room where a tiny baby waited for us, wrapped in a blanket.

My cousin Wendy, at the time, gave me some advice that turned out to be really good. Wendy was also adopted. She told me that there was never a time she didn’t know about it, no big dramatic reveal, just honest discussion of her adoption. This is the best way to go—Don’t hide anything or make a big secret of it; just talk about adoption with your child.

Around age four, Paul took an interest in Harry Potter. He loves the Harry Potter stories, and has watched the movies repeatedly. I’m sure he knows every single spell. And one of the things he likes about it is that Harry Potter is adopted.

It is surprisingly easy to find representation in popular culture for adoptive kids. It all hinges on an old writers’ trick—If you want the audience to know who to root for immediately, make them an orphan. There is no shortage of adopted characters in our fiction; without even trying I can think of a list. Harry Potter, Superman, Batman, Luke Skywalker, Spider-Man. Adoption is routinely represented in our culture.

I recently got to watch Paul in a local parade. He desperately wanted to be on his school’s float, and he was so excited about it that he slept in his costume the night before. Paul loves any opportunity to be in front of an audience; he reacts the same way to his dance recitals. I was with a couple of friends when I saw his float coming, and I was proud of my little boy, performing and throwing candy.

“There’s my boy,” I shouted.

He called back, ”Don’t forget to bring home apple juice and Lunchables!”

And, you know, I like being Paul’s parent. Walking him to the bus stop, going down to pick him up, helping him with his homework….I love all that. I wouldn’t have guessed it, but I actually enjoy all of this stuff involved in parenting.

I’m proud of my son; he’s a very bright little guy. Recently, while staying up late with me, he asked a few questions about death. I told him that everyone has some different beliefs, but nobody really knows for sure.

“That’s why we hunt ghosts,” I said. “Because we don’t know, and we’re trying to find out.”

“Some of the kids say that we can come back and live another life,” he suggested.

“Reincarnation?” I said. “Sure, some people believe that, too.”

He thought it over for a moment.

“Well,” he said,” If we live again, can you marry Mom and adopt me again?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’d be glad to adopt you all over again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I said. “I think no matter what, we’ll always find each other, you and I.”