Oh, happy day!

It arrived, it arrived!! A big manila envelope, stuffed into my mailbox Friday morning, with a return address reading "Office of Vital Records."

Vital, indeed--it contained Mark's new birth certificate. Which I've been waiting for since October 2007. Which I was first told would arrive in July, then September, then October, then finally January 2009 (maybe). Which I *may* have told a little white lie to expedite, in hopes of procuring a passport by next summer. (It was for the greater good, people!!)

But whatever, it's here, the final piece of the adoption puzzle--with this document and the adoption decree, let there be no doubt in anyone's mind that I am now, officially (according to the State), Mark's mom. (Huzzah!)

It was strange to see the birth certificate in person. I was expecting an amended certificate, something with the words "adoptive mother." But no, I am listed simply as his mother; the certificate looks like any other, with no caveat or disclaimer that this child is adopted or that this mother is not the biological mom. It reads as though I actually gave birth to the little guy myself!

Right there under all of Mark's information (time/date of birth, hospital and city of birth), are the words Mother: Heather Dinsdale, printed in black ink. It lists the mother's birthday (mine!) and her name (again, mine!) at the time of Mark's birth. The "father" field is completely blank--no mention of Mark's birth father at all.

The whole thing was kinda shocking--I am given far more credit in his birth than I deserve, and Mark's birth family is completely obliterated from the record altogether. It was very strange indeed, as though they never existed. Talk about re-writing history--I didn't know you could do that legally.

But, again--whatever. What matters most is that I now have official government-issued documentation of Mark's birth--one of those things birth parents take for granted, a legal record proving a child is theirs. The only proof I had before was a blurry, illegible photocopy of Mark's original birth certificate.

I immediately collected the certificate and other paperwork I'd started, and finished the task from last month--obtaining Mark's Social Security card. I'd already tried once, unsuccessfully. But I tried again today; I signed in to the Social Security office, received my number, and was promptly called to the window.

The window manned by the very same mean man who'd denied me Mark's new card last month! Talk about bad luck.

But I didn't want to fight today--I just wanted it done. And so, I did something completely out of character--I sat down, and shut my big mouth.

It worked! When asked, I silently pushed all the documentation toward him. The only time I spoke was when he asked about the father field.

"Father unknown?" he said.

Which I took as a personal accusation--you don't even know who the kid's father is?? In my head, I launched into a whole explanation about how Mark was adopted, and did have a father, but that the father was removed from the record.

Luckily, my filter was working, and my brain said, "STOP! He doesn't care--just say YES!"

And so I answered, "Yes, father unknown." And bit my tongue.

I was rewarded with a receipt five minutes later, saying the new card will arrive in two weeks. That was it--mission accomplished!

I about skipped out of the office. I couldn't believe how fast and easy the process was. I walked into the sunlight while visions of college plans danced in my head. (And visions of savings bonds, savings accounts, my son's future employment--all things are possible with a Social Security card!)

I didn't physically give birth to Mark, but you'd never know by looking at the certificate in my hand today.

It's official, I give up

Note to all non-adoptive parents out there: Go hug your children right now, simply because they were born to you, thereby saving you untold hours arguing with stupid people working in government offices.

I don't know why I bother. It's like arguing with a brick wall, or talking politics with my younger brother. I always feel like if I'm earnest enough, if I'm charming or funny or intelligent enough, I can win people over from the Dark Side. But it never works.

Case in point: Government office workers.

I've waited 13 months now for Mark's birth certificate. The Office of Vital Records promised I'd have it by July, but then amended that to September or October, and more recently to maybe mid-January. In case you forgot, you need a birth certificate for things as important as getting a passport or signing up to play youth sports. (Seriously--AYSO and Little League require a birth certificate!) Oh yeah, and you also need it to apply for a new Social Security card.

As a child, you need a Social Security card for things such as opening a bank account, or receiving savings bonds from your grandparents. (As an adult, you need it for other reasons, but I'm jumping the gun here.)

So yesterday, I tried to get Mark a new Social Security card with his not-so-new-anymore last name on it. The Social Security web site lists what's required to get an adoptive child a new card:

EVIDENCE DOCUMENTS WE NEED TO SEE
Final Adoption Decree

Beautiful, I thought. I have that.

I dug the original decree out of its locked safety box, and brought it with me to work. If this doesn't scare you, then you obviously have not ever helped me search frantically for my keys or wallet. I do not take important papers from my house simply because I'll lose them. (I did make a photocopy first, but still...)

Armed with the original adoption decree and a completed application, I went to the Social Security office. The guard checked my papers, and gave me a number.

And then everything went to hell. I explained to the man at the window I needed a new card for Mark, and without ever looking at me, he stuck out his hand and said, "Birth certificate, please."
So I very nicely explained that I don't have his birth certificate yet. "I've been waiting for it over a year now," I told him.

Mean SS man, scoffing: "It doesn't take that long. Come back when you have it."

Me: "It does take that long--trust me, I call them every couple weeks asking about it. Look, here on the application, it says you can use the final adoption decree, so--"

Mean SS man, refusing to look down at the paper in my hand: "I can't do anything without a birth certificate."

I argued with him for a good five minutes, but he wouldn't look at any of my papers and simply refused to help me. I realized the armed guard was staring me down intently, so I finally just left.

Then I called the main Social Security phone number for clarification.

Me: "The application says all I need to get him a new card is the final adoption decree. Is that correct?"

Man on phone: "Did you bring in the original adoption decree?"

Me: "Yes."

Man on phone: "Then, ABSOLUTELY that's all you need!"

Me: "So I don't need a birth certificate? I can get my son a new card without it?"

Man on phone: "ABSOLUTELY!"

Me, vaguely hopeful: "So the guy at the office was wrong? What should I tell him when I go back, so that I can get this started without a birth certificate?"

Man on phone, screeching to a halt: "You went in to an office?"

Me: "Yes."

Man on phone: "And they said you need a birth certificate?"

Me: "Yes, but--"

Man on phone: "Then you absolutely need a birth certificate."

Me, confused by his abrupt change: "Wait," I said, "You just said that--"

Man on phone: "Anything we say on the phone or Web site is just a generalization. Whatever they say in the office is how it really works."

And with that, he was done. He offered to send some brochures, but since he'd just told me that office workers supersede any written word, I declined.

Mark was no closer to ever getting a bank account or passport, and there were two more government office workers who'd just made my hate list.