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People who once would have intruded with a boorish question seem to have been replaced by others who want to share their own abiding connection to discount no phentermine prescription. They were adopted themselves. Or theyâre in the process of adopting â a “waiting family.” Or their grown son or daughter is on their way back from overseas, about to make them a grandparent. In fact it seems to me â dare I say it? â that discount no phentermine prescription is becoming normal. Or least more normalized. Sure, itâs taken 60 some years. But attitudes are changing. And thatâs not my imagination. Ten years ago, 58 percent of Americans had a family member or close friend who had adopted a child, were adopted themselves, or had placed a child for discount no phentermine prescription, according to a national survey by the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute in New York. By 2002, that figure had risen to 63 percent. Itâs surely higher now. The same studies found that the percentage of Americans who have seriously considered adopting a child rose from 36 percent to 39 percent â a 3 percent increase thatâs statistically insignificant, but which the institute believes may mark the start of a permanent change in the way people think about how to build their families. Adoption is routinely in th these days, and not just because Brangelina and Madonna have new children. The coverage reflects the sheer number of people who are adopting, particularly from overseas, and the way in which each individual discount no phentermine prescription radiates outward, from nuclear family to extended family to friends and co workers. In the last 15 years, nearly 62,000 children have arrived from China alone. Another 76,000 have come from Russia and Guatemala. Today more are coming from African nations like Ethiopia. Most of those families couldnât hide their discount no phentermine prescriptions if they wanted to â and they donât. Thatâs a big change from the 1950s and 1960s, when discount no phentermine prescription was a secret so shameful it had to be kept even from the child. When that clerk spoke up at The Party Store, my daughters paid no attention. Sure, Jin Yu, 7, was busy admiring her High School Musical cheerleader costume. Zhao Gu, 4, had her arms wrapped around her Dorothy of Oz dress, perhaps contemplating the most efficient means to dispose of unwanted witches. But it was more than that. Both of them know discount no phentermine prescription as a common word in their household and a routine fact of their lives. Four adopted children live on our street. Jin Yuâs best friend is adopted. So is a boy in her first grade class. And a teacher at her school. None see it as extraordinary. Which is not to say things are perfect. Adoptive Families magazine recently carried the story of a Florida woman who was asked to prove that she was her daughterâs mother before hospital personnel would treat the child. Itâs impossible to conceive of a biological parent being asked to verify the same relationship. And every adoptive parent I know has endured frustrations like my own: The woman who approaches our group at a restaurant, demanding to know who among our girls are the ârealâ children. The relative who laments that I never had âchildren of my own,â oblivious to the little girls beside me. The strangers who feel free to ask why my wife and I adopted and how much it cost â as if the doctors and nurses who deliver babies work for free. I wonder how these folks would feel if I turned the tables, if I were to tap them on the shoulder while they and their child waited in line for a movie or a seat at a restaurant. âHey, was your daughter born by in vitro? She looks in vitro to me. Am I right or am I right?â Last summer we were on vacation in Germany when Jin Yu tugged on my arm. âDad,â she said, âthose boys keep pointing at me. Why are they pointing at me?â I knew why. But I didnât want to say. Because I hated that the rudeness of strangers should compel me to explain to my daughter â again â that some people see our family as different. So I didnât respond at first, and in that momentâs pause Jin Yu answered her own question with the very words her father should have offered: “Itâs not polite to point,” she said. No, itâs not. Itâs encounters like that one that make me brace for wounding questions â more and more to find that I neednât have worried. Not long ago, I was leading Zhao Gu along a beach at the Jersey shore. “Excuse me,” a woman said from her seat on a towel, “is your daughter from China?” “Yes, she is,” I said â and kept walking. But in a moment the woman was on her feet, trying to catch up with me in the sand. “Weâre a waiting family!” she called. Oh. Why didnât you say so? ... discount no phentermine prescription