The Adoption Option

"I'm thinking of getting rid of my facebook account," I told my mom the other day over the phone, "I feel the need to streamline my life, and I waste so much time reading useless facts about people's lives."

"That makes sense," she replied, "But you're going to keep up with your blog, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I love writing little stories about the kids, but I just don't come up with much material these days," I told her.

She questioned me, "You just witnessed the birth of a Cabbage Patch doll and you can't come up with anything to write about?"

Fair enough.

Last weekend we were in the beautiful mountains of Georgia, having a mini family reunion with Joe's immediate family. One of the nearby attractions was Babyland General Hospital, an impressive birthing facility with a zero percent fatality rate. It also happens to be where Cabbage Patch Kids are born.

We pulled up to a picturesque white mansion with stately columns. As we approached the huge wraparound porch, it really did have the feel of an old-timey hospital. "Why are we here? Did George hurt himself?" Luke asked innocently in that chipmunk voice that I want to bottle up and dab behind my ears every day for the rest of my life.

We signed in at the admissions desk--I'm not kidding--with an old woman in a tidy white nurse's uniform and cap. We entered the hospital and toured nurseries full of Cabbage Patch dolls, each one uniquely dressed and named. We looked at original dolls and special dolls that had been re-adopted for thousands and thousands of dollars. There were observation windows that looked into newborn nurseries, full of bassinets occupied by newborn-sized dolls.

A crowd began to gather around a platform, so we followed suit, not wanting to miss anything. The front of the platform was covered in artificial boulders, which were dotted with large fake cabbages, a doll's head in the middle of each one. There was some buzz about a new doll being born any minute. I was expecting someone to come out holding a swaddled up doll. It turns out I'm somewhat limited in the creativity department.

A fifty-something "doctor" and her pimple-faced teenage assistant, both wearing white coats and stethoscopes, came out. The woman welcomed everybody and introduced the adoptive mother, Savannah, aged 13, standing front and center. Then she got right to work.

First, she put her stethoscope up to a swollen cabbage and announced that the baby had a good heart rate. Then she pulled out a large syringe and gave "Mother Cabbage" a dose of "Imagicillin". She revealed that Mother Cabbage was dilated, but she was going to have to perform an "easyotomy". As we heard snipping sounds, my poor husband turned white as a ghost and I began to wonder if they couldn't leave more to the children's imaginations.

"This was a Planned Parenthood," the doctor went on. I found the self control deep within my reserves to keep from shouting out, "Stop bombarding my children with your agenda!" I was irritated at that point, as I've never come across an adopted child who was very planned at conception. I've been told I can take these things a little too seriously, though.

The baby started to come out head first, which the doctor explained was good news, as they didn't want to have to perform a c-section, or "cabbage section". The baby was completely pulled out, and pink lights started flashing. "It's a girl!" the doctor exclaimed as she hung her by her feet and slapped her bottom. Everybody oohed and ahhed over the baby's outtie belly button and Xavier Roberts birth mark.

"Savannah, what will your baby's name be?" asked the doctor.

"Mackenzie Delaney!" Savannah shouted as she signed the birth certificate. Baby Mackenzie was swaddled up in a pink blanket and handed to the little mommy.

"I think I've seen enough," I said to Joe, who frankly should have been breathing in and out of a paper bag at this point. We exited, naturally, through a gift shop, and we had a time explaining to Luke that he was not going to adopt a Cabbage Patch Kid wearing a NASCAR jacket.

"But I want it for George," he wailed.

Nice try, but adoption can be so cost-prohibitive. There are some reputable adoption agencies that prorate fees based on your income. Babyland General is not one of them. Maybe he can do what some of my friends in similar predicaments have done--sell T-shirts, hold yard sales and fundraiser dinners, etc. All I know is that I'm not paying $200 for a doll.