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Illustration by Alex Chen
I sat at a coffee shop enjoying an overpriced yet delicious cortado when I noticed a mother with a stroller and a large diaper bag hanging off her arm. Cue her two children running toward the treat counter in awe of the gooey cinnamon bun. She had just enough sweat on her brow for you to know that it had been a day.
Many watching this interaction may think, thank goodness that isn’t me. But I ache to have those sore arms from carrying the weight of all the things tiny humans require.
I decided when I was 33 that I wanted to adopt.
The adoption journey in Canada, especially as a single woman, is complicated. In Ontario, where I live, you can adopt through the public sector, which means working with the Children’s Aid Society, privately through licensed agencies, or through international programs. I did all the required training, including specific courses on trans-racial adoptions and addressing trauma, had an annual home study and got my police checks done. I also opened my life savings for invoice after invoice all while engaging with paid representation at all levels (local, federal, and in my case, international).
How I found joy in caregiving for my mother
The average cost of an international adoption can run anywhere from $60,000 to $120,000. Let me tell you, it’s the higher end of that estimate. In addition to the legal representation, I hired professionals to create an adoption profile. For this, I even staged a photo shoot in my kitchen.
After six years of trying to grasp the complicated process, making lifestyle sacrifices, working through all the paperwork and checklists, I landed at the stage where I could be presented to birth families. I received the call twice that I matched with a family.
I was presented with two matches within 10 days of one another. I’ve been told that’s unheard of. However, after spending $80,000 at this point, I discovered that what the agencies contractually promised was not offered. I was presented with matches with little to no information and felt pressured to make a choice within 48 hours rather than the weeks I was under the impression I should have had.
While overwhelmed, I pushed all issues with the process aside to focus on raising a child and building a life together. It was important for me to put my excitement and emotions aside and focus on making the right decision for the child despite the lack of information, including a missing medical file, and intense pressure.
When a parent dies and you are far away, reality rearranges itself
The language of many adoption professionals is primarily focused on the birth family and baby, while my experience and emotions weren’t a consideration. That may seem selfish and misplaced but this is a life-changing decision for everyone and yet at times the process felt purely transactional. In discussions with the agencies, we would switch too quickly from talking about health and post-match placement to money owed.
I turned down both of my matches for different reasons, and I feel confident in those decisions.
During the six years I was looking to adopt, I heard it all. The loud opinions around risk factors, being told that I can’t possibly do this on your own and comparing my experience to other infertility journeys.
I can’t speak to IVF, but I know intimately the heartbreak of the adoption process. I opened up my entire life to scrutiny. My home was inspected often and even my doctor signed off on my status. I committed to raising a child who may look different than me and pledged to include their birth culture with my own. I understood that adopting a child is a serious responsibility and should not be taken lightly, but it was frustrating that all parents don’t experience this judgement.
I don’t want to live forever. I want to live a day longer than my dependent son
In late 2024, my local adoption practitioner made a great recommendation. Have a deadline in mind, she said. A deadline to pause and assess how I move forward if I don’t land a successful match. While I wanted to remain positive, I also coached myself on being realistic, too.
In early 2026, I decided to end my adoption journey. Should I have matched successfully, I would have had to pay another US$30,000 to bring a baby home. I didn’t want to start parenthood with crippling debt, and my emotional capacity was dwindling with every “sorry you haven’t been selected this month” email.
After making this decision, I realized it was time to grieve a life I fought so hard for. I used every inch of courage I had and learned so much about how strong I can be. I learned to be more empathetic toward others and how to curb negative self talk.
In that coffee shop, I found myself in an emotional roil. What makes her lucky enough to have kids while I’m at a standstill? And yet I know that I did everything within my power – even in an industry where single women are not set up for success. It was an awful experience but one that really tested who I am and my strength.
I have dusted myself off and am charging ahead. I didn’t become a mother but I became someone who knows her capacity for courage and resilience.
Pauline Di Filippo lives in Hamilton.