EASTON, Md. — Home study.  Those two words can send fear into the hearts of prospective parents like no others. 

Basically, a home study involves a protracted process whereby a social worker looks at every facet of your life, evaluating everything from the strength of your marriage to the stability of your job in an effort to determine if you will be a fit parent. 

Of course, this makes great sense.  In fact, when I tell people about adoption home studies, many of them say they wish all parents, had to go through this process prior to getting pregnant. 

However, intellectually appreciating the usefulness does nothing to diminish the terror when you’re faced with the home study yourself.  The process all but guarantees sleepless nights.  Until it is concluded you will live in fear that somehow the social worker will deem you unfit to parent.

Yes, there is much paper to gather and appointments to be commit to, but that’s relatively easy to prepare for one you get your mind around the fact that it’ll be a lot of work.  Most home studies will include the same basics:

1)   Interviews with you and your spouse

2)   A home visit by a social worker

3)   Health statements from your doctors

4)   Income information

5)   Background checks from local, state and federal agencies

6)   An autobiographical statement (aka your life story)

7)   Personal and professional references

8)   The home study report (whereby the social workers writes up his or her assessments and conclusions on everything from the neighborhood you live in to your religious upbringing.)

And, alas, number eight is the one of that can strike terror because it is the most subjective.  The social worker’s report will depend on many things and will be developed after he or she spends time with you.

This week, my column will focus on a major component of the home study, the interview process.  Yes, it’s a process.  Most social workers require a couple of in-office interviews, solo and, if married, together.  Then, there are the in-home interviews, where the social worker comes to your house interact with you in your own environment.

While every interview is important, the first is the most important.   The old adage that you never get a second chance to make a good first impression is true.  And, believe me, no matter how prepared you are, you will feel the full weight of that when you embark on your first round of interviews.

When my husband Scott and I first went to our social workers office, she talked to us briefly together and then sent me out to the waiting room so she could do a one-on-one with Scott.

I sat in the lobby under glaring fluorescent light mindlessly flipping through outdated AAA magazines that had been strewn about a forlorn coffee table.  All I could think while Scott was doing his solo interview was how he’d better not blow it.  Would he suddenly reveal something even I don’t know about him that will lead to the social worked rejecting us as potential parents?  What if he blurts out how I used to cut high school to smoke behind the deli or how he once let our Irish Setter Fitzgerald wander onto the West Side Highway and get hit by a cab?

When Scott emerged from her office smiling, my relief was momentary.  The social worker waved me in and it was my turn to mess this up.  Would I accidently contradict something he said?  What if she asked me a question about Scott’s family that I didn’t know?  Would I look like a disinterested wife?  

None of that happened, of course.  But her questions did make me think in ways I hadn’t before.  She asked about my disciplining style.  How would I know?  I hadn’t had children before.  What did I think about education?  That was an cinch until she asked which school this not-yet-born child would go to.   How many community parks are there in my neighborhood?  How would I integrate our family and friends into our lives since most of them didn’t live near us?  These weren’t trick questions; they were asked with the intention to get me thinking, which they did.

After my solo interview, the social worker called Scott back in.  The only ting worse in my mind than two solo interviews was a joint interview.  Would I talk over him and look like some kind of domineering bully?  Would he cut me off like he’s apt to do, giving the impression we were a bickering couple, which we are?  During the interview Scott reached for my hand, trying to hold it.  What in the world was he doing, laying it on so thick?  I pulled my hand away.  He glared at me.  I glared back.  We both smiled at her.  And so it went.

  In the end, the joint interview went by in a blur.  I know I was sweating.  I know I smiled a lot and nodded like a bobble head.  Somehow, despite all our awkwardness and nerves, our social worker got it.  We conveyed what we needed to convey: we wanted to be parents very badly and we would do whatever it took to become the best we could be.

And that’s precisely the point of these interviews.  The social worker isn’t in search of the world’s greatest parents.  He or she is there to uncover who you are, to get to know you and ultimately prepare you for having children.  

So, yes, you’d be wise to embrace the process, but that doesn’t mean you won’t also be embracing some sleepless nights.

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