A sea of drop-down boxes floated in front of me on my computer screen.  All I needed to do was complete this form to sign up and become a member of a new local resource group for parents in my neighborhood. First name, last name, birthday and address; I typed away, eagerly filling in the blanks. Password: check. Home phone: yup. Children: uh-oh.

There it was, an entire section devoted to describing my progeny in detail. Name, gender, and birth date with empty boxes waited for my information. Of course, if I wasn’t “with child” quite yet, I could opt for “Still Expecting?”  Going this route, I’d fill in my due date and whether I’m expecting “singleton, twins, triplets, quadruplets or quintuplets.”

I searched for the “other” category, always a safe refuge for those square pegs trying to fit into a round hole. I felt like I was back, pre-1997 U.S. census, when the category “Some other race,” was your destination if American Indian or Alaskan Native, Asian or Pacific Islander, Black, and White did not fit the bill. Unfortunately, “other” was not an option now and the red asterisk by ‘Children’ meant completing this section was required if I hoped to click on the “Save and Continue” button.

The uppity woman in me wanted to check off “Yes, not here yet!” in the “Still Expecting?” box and then click on “quintuplets” in the “Multiples?” drop down box. I figured I’d at least get an interview with Fox news. “Fifty-year-old woman expecting quintuplets!” the headline would read.

It was hard to fathom why “quintuplets” or even “quadruplets” was there for the checking whereas “adoption” was not. I’m willing to bet the odds are there’s nary a family with quints within a hundred mile radius. In comparison, adoptive families are hardly a rarity.

Ironically, just a few hours ago, I’d been sitting in a coffeehouse with ten other women from my neighborhood, talking about getting this group off the ground and ways “we” could be more inclusive given the diversity of our neighborhood. I ventured that my attendance was a small step forward as I was the oldest in the group and the only adoptive-parent-to-be (I did find out later there are two members who are gay couples with adopted children). One of the women said, “Yes, that’s why we’re hoping to get a few sub-groups started, like 40+ moms.” Fantastic. I’ve only been to my first meeting and I’m already being marginalized to the periphery. When I shared this story with Big Papa, he tried to put at a positive spin on my experience: “Just think of it like you’re getting special attention.”

Yes, I know, sometimes the adoptive mom chip-on-my-shoulder could use a bit of softening. Still, I am continually surprised that in the year 2010, living in a large progressive city like Seattle, a parent group didn’t consider there would likely be families with adopted kids in the mix when they put together the online form to join their organization. I’m sure the exclusion isn’t personal and is most likely unintended. Birth moms all, it never crossed their collective minds.

I ended up picking the “Still Expecting?” box and listed my “Due date” as August 15, 2010. Of course, I hope our little bundle of joy is months “premature!” Meanwhile, I emailed the administrator for the group and told her I thought it would be great if she could find a way to tweak the content on that page to include adoptive parenting in the selection of choices available to describe parenthood status.

Sometimes the best route to getting invited on the road trip is to be a little  more vocal, raise your hand a bit higher and say, “Hey, I’d like to ride along with the rest of you.” After all, if I want my kiddo to grow up feeling like he’s a confident trailblazer, what kind of role model am I if I just sit on the sidelines and pout? I’d rather stand up, show my pride in being an adoptive mom and join the game.