Crushed, bombarded with questions, voice trembling, losing confidence, my weak heart┃Special Adoption┃Finally reached the first interview ②

There were two interviewers, a male social worker and a female nurse, and another nurse in the corner of the room recording for documentation. The interview began with casual conversation, like a typical self-introduction, and gradually moved into the main topic as we discussed various things.

We were asked endless questions: Why did we want to have a child through special adoption? What did we learn from the foster parent training lectures? At what age and how would we tell the child the truth about their adoption, and had we both properly thought about that? How would we communicate with and teach the child when they did something wrong, and what did discipline mean to us?


Click here for the story of our journey to the interview location and what happened before it started.
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While I felt the questions were almost identical to what I had written during the document screening stage, I realized they were likely re-confirming things by watching our expressions—to see if we could actually answer them face-to-face, if we could expand on our answers without straying from the content, if we truly believed what we had written and could say it immediately, and if our thoughts as a couple were aligned.

Even though I knew it was actually much harder and couldn't be dismissed with such pretty words, I answered various questions about whether we were truly prepared to accept any child and if we had a proper understanding of severe physical and mental disabilities.

To avoid the appearance of a difference in opinion between us as a couple regarding adoption, we decided to take turns answering rather than having one person do all the talking, just as we did during the child consultation center's home visit. The introductory questions were asked by the male social worker in a gentle tone and with a calm expression, but as time passed, the questioning shifted to the female nurse.

The nurse gradually began to say harsher things. It was my turn to speak, but tears and a runny nose came naturally, making it painful to answer. Sensing this, my husband looked at my face and, through eye contact, took over for me. It was such a painful time that I inwardly thought, 'We already wrote that in the documents…' as she seemed to deny everything we said with conviction regarding our thoughts and feelings about the child we hoped to welcome. At that moment, the thought crossed my mind: 'Why can this person only speak this way? Even with the same questions, the way you say things changes how much someone wants to answer…' But then, I suddenly remembered words someone had once told me.

They said that the words you feel hurt by are a matter of your own perception, and the person who said them didn't intend to hurt you. No… there are times when I think, 'Anyone would agree that those words were meant to hurt,' but even so, the other person is just expressing their feelings straight, without thinking about whether the other person will be hurt, and 'feeling hurt' is just the perception of the person being told.

Admittedly, I can understand that when it's put that way, but perhaps because of my former profession, I often said things to children like, 'How would you feel if someone said that to you?… It would make you sad, wouldn't it?… Why did you say that, dear?…' and so I couldn't help but wonder why this person had to speak that way.

However, feeling that if I wasn't careful, this thought would also end up blaming that person somewhere in my heart, I reflected on it while wiping my nose and holding back tears once my husband had spoken for me and I had calmed down a little.

I say this myself, but I'm often told by many people that I have a strong core or that I'm honest. In this day and age, people often switch to positive thinking, so perhaps being headstrong is just called 'being able to see through what you want to do.' But to put it bluntly, mine comes from being stubborn, so it wasn't about having a strong core; it was just that I hated crying in front of others.

I can't cry in front of others, I don't want to cry… That competitive spirit, which hasn't changed since I was young, came out. I looked up to keep the tears and runny nose from falling, sniffled, wiped the corners of my eyes with my fingers, and tried to change my mindset. But the nurse showed me no mercy, bombarding me with questions one after another.

After my husband took over and I calmed down a bit, I listened, thinking I would answer the next one, but when the time came, I ended up answering the nurse's harsh questions with a trembling voice and sobs again. I wanted to do my best, but I couldn't speak as I wanted to, and I was filled with the desire to just go home.

I had absolutely no confidence that we would pass; I was certain we would fail.

When I glanced at the wall clock, it was almost 5 o'clock. It was still bright outside, and I hadn't even realized that nearly three hours had passed.



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Next is [ Finally reached the first interview ③ ]
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