When you adopt a child there are hundreds of steps in the process. One of the steps is the powers-that-be make you go see a doctor whose job is to tell you all the about the medical risks associated with the child’s condition.

I remember our appointment like it just happened yesterday. We went to Shanghai Children’s Medical Center to sit down with a doctor who told us how bad it was all going to be. The doc painted bleak picture. Our child would never do this and he’d never do that. She listed off all the things our child would never achieve. At one point the doctor added “oh…yeah… and he won’t be good at math.” To which I responded, “He’s going to fit right in to our family…”

We were determined, no matter what, to adopt our son. Still they try to discourage and talk you out of it every step of the way because the risks are so great.

Mitigating risk seems to be such a huge focus as one prepares for parenthood. We’re like card counters at the blackjack table, adding together all the probabilities in our minds, whilst engaged in the most high stakes gambling known to humankind. After all, it takes over a quarter of a million dollars to raise a child to their eighteenth birthday. That’s not a few quarters in the slot machine or a scratch off at the gas station.

When you biologically birth a child there are also hundreds of steps in the process. One of the steps is you go see a doctor who, similarly, tells you all about the possible medical conditions that your child could have. They offer you up a list of available genetic tests that’s longer than the menu at Texas Roadhouse. It seems like every trimester unlocks a new battery of assessments for one to take.

“This isn’t covered by insurance, but for only five hundred dollars more, we can determine if your child will have three heads and elk antlers.”

In your anxiety it seems like a good idea to find out ahead of time if your kid will have antlers. You’re already imagining twenty years into the future when they’ll be working at Yellowstone National Park for the summer supported by a “Antlered Youth Inclusivity Program” grant from Antlered Youth of America (AYA). You’re filled with dread and stress.

There are a TON of potential pitfalls when we mix our sperms and eggs. Now we’ve moved on to the roulette wheel. It’s spinning round and round. Look at all the squares on that wheel, they represent every single possibility swimming inside of that murky gene pool of ours. Maybe the kid will be a talented painter…

…or maybe they’ll be a natural arsonist.

How will they turn out? Will they have your eyes and my hair or my depression and your alcoholism?

Round and round it spins.

There also comes this false sense of relief when your kid turns out to be “normal”. You feel like you’ve won your hand and should get out of the casino while you’re ahead. But what exactly is normal, may I ask? They’re good at math? They run an 8-minute mile? They’re not a werewolf?

And just what if they were a werewolf? Who’s to say they won’t be the best werewolf person that’s ever lived? A friend to the friendless, a lover of humanity, a blessing to society.

And suppose they turn out “normal”? That doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve won. So what if their face has creases in all the right places, they have all their teeth and are able to score a 28 on the ACT. They still could turn out to be a waste of a person. Who’s to say in adulthood they won’t be a massive Boston Red Sox fan, drive slowly in the left lane, and wear sunglasses indoors?

I certainly understand and empathize that having a child by whatever means is incredibly terrifying. You are putting yourself into the uncomfortable position of having no control. And therefore, it’s natural to get a clearer picture of the situation. But the idea that we can look into a child’s future and predict what will happen is an illusion. Even after they’re all grown up, every kid is a gamble. You step up to that roulette wheel and watch it spin round and round, not knowing where it may land.

Get Out of the Casino