Not because I was loud.
Not because I looked uncertain.
But because I was a single man with achondroplasia asking to adopt a baby in the late 1980s.
One social worker actually looked over her glasses and asked, carefully but not carefully enough, “Do you really think you can manage raising a child on your own?”
Other people were less polite.
“How will you carry him?”
“What happens when he gets bigger?”
“Children need stability.”
“Wouldn’t it be better for him to go to a more… traditional family?”
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