A couple of things before we get started:
This is primarily a knit/spin blog. I, like other bloggers, sometimes write about other things that affect my life. I don’t apologize for it, and I won’t stop writing about what crosses my mind on a given day. On to the post.
The talks that I love and fear most happen while in the car.
Baby Goth and I had a day off yesterday. She was opted out of her state testing, and I am currently “underemployed”. We went into town, walked around, visited a new to us fiber shop – it’s mostly a yarn shop, but she’s got a nice selection of roving and batts – and went to the record store across the street. A pretty good morning.
On the way home, somehow we got into a conversation about her birth certificate. She’ll be applying for her learners permit next spring*, and she needs a birth certificate to present to the DMV. Which might present a problem.
For those who don’t know, I am an adoptive parent. My daughter has a birth certificate of sorts here at home, with Dad Goth’s and my name as her parents. She currently does not have access to her original birth certificate, with her other parents listed as her parents. Now, technically there should be no problem. The words “birth certificate” are across the top of the document that we have. It is not called a “certificate of live birth”, which is the original one issued from the hospital after she was born.
She asked if she could request it. In our state she can – in fact, she is the only one who can, Dad Goth and I are not able to request it on her behalf – but only when she’s 18. Not that far away for me, a giant chasm of time for her. It isn’t fair, but that’s the law in our state. Teenagers can do an increasing number of things, but not this. Hell, she can create multiple Snapchat and IG accounts that, frankly, I don’t want to see. But a birth certificate? Nope, sorry. You’re too young. Plus the laws are different in every state, which needs to change. Lots of things about adoption should be changed, but this is the biggest change that needs to happen.
*My goodness. Next spring? There’s a whole lot of nope in my head right now.