Adoption Avenging, Freelance

"So do you think you're going to adopt still?"

Lots of people ask that. I ask that, all the time, of myself, and Sean. I think about it a lot. No, we aren't an adoptive family, and no, I have never placed a child. Neither of us is adopted. But it's hard to work something like that into your identity, you know, in preparation, and then just...stop. The last person to ask me that was Kateri. Which meant I had to think a long time about the answer.

I came to be friends with Kateri in a roundabout fashion.

Long ago, in a blogosphere far away, I was tiring of my battle with the hydra of infertility (one head is a syringe, one is a giant nighttime-sized Kotex, one is an HSG, et cetera ad infinitum) and began to contemplate adoption. Of course I was for openness! Of course I was for, you know, rights! And stuff! For the kids! Adoption is awesome!

Then some chick on a message board started talking about how adoptive parents ought to, by virtue of their being charged to raise what was essentially someone else's kid, be held to a higher standard.

I did not like this. And came out swinging. Back then, I thought the meanest, snarkiest thing I could do was to point out that this poster was not some impartial commentator, but instead was -- gasp! -- a birthmother! Therefore guilty of tremendous bias! Ha ha! I totally called her out! Busted!

Months went by. And I began to kind of, slowly, a teeny tiny bit at a time, get it. Kind of. Just a little bit. I'm still just now beginning to see the parking spot that is Getting It, and it's a tight kind of parallel-park spot, on the wrong side of the road, so it will take a while, and I'll probably run up on the curb. Anyway.

Someone named "Kate" started commenting on my blog. Here and there. Nice things. Mild things. Something about her screen name or email seemed familiar, so I did a little Googling, and found this post.

By then I had the sense to realize: she was right.

I emailed her and asked why she was being so decent to me. As it turned out she had a heart as big as her huge brain, and it was brimming with forgiveness and other things too good to stuff in a Tastykake. And every time we talk on the phone, about something random like baby poop or the clearance section of H&M, I say a little thank-you to the universe for giving me another chance with her.

I used to think of myself as someone whose approach to adoption was progressive. Laudable. Ethical. It's taken me two years and change to articulate just where I went wrong there, and I imagine that there will be more switchbacks and doglegs along that road. When you go digging in your biases, you almost always turn up some nasty things. It's very Miyazake-esque.

I have a nice little stack of adoption-related books, our agency's required reading. Some were hard reading, some not so much, but I devoured them all. There was a lot of talk about open adoption and how great it was -- you know, especially for the kids -- and then some more about what kids go through, and what they wish you knew, and the journey adoptive parents make, and healing, and blah blah blah. I had it down. I was going to be the openest, bestest, honestest adoptive mother you ever saw! It was going to be all about the kids! But something was so thoroughly missing that I didn't even notice it was missing. There was no space for it to be missing from.

That something was birthmothers.

Or first mothers, or other mothers, or real mothers, or just plain mothers. Whatever they were called, they were limited to cameo appearances, happy at Christmas picture time, pausing to send a loving -- but distant -- thought to our children as they raced between finals and that really awesome internship.

I did not realize then that forcing birthmothers into the role of smiling occasional visitor was almost as nullifying as sealing records.

I did not recognize that even under the best of circumstances, as adoption is currently practiced here, ALL the power is held, eventually, by the adoptive parents. So many of the people we met through the agency were obsessed with the power of the birth parents -- to choose them to parent a baby, to withhold the baby at will, to take the baby back. To confuse the child about who the "real" parents are. To return several years later and cause a ruckus. A lot of the literature on adoption, even the good stuff on open adoption, expends a lot of ink on these things, and in our culture's collective imagination the birthmother is a person of tremendous influence. One way to neuter that (perceived) power is to "disappear" the birthmother into a closed file; another way is a sort of unenlightened open adoption in which the birthmother is relegated into a very specific, limited role -- not just in her interactions with the child, but in every aspect of her life.

What a smokescreen for the reality. And it's very effective. It had me fooled for a long time.

Of course there are women who choose some degree of anonymity, of unfindability. And, as our social worker was quick to point out, some birthmothers gradually leave off contact over the years. They move on, as she put it. Now I wonder how much of that has less to do with moving on and more to do with unresolved grief, or the behavior of the adoptive parents. I am willing to accept that it is a very complicated picture, but I also want to understand what the issues are and what can be done by adoptive parents, by agencies, by society.

So I'm listening. I'm listening, and reading, and thinking, turning off the inner critic as I take in the words of people who are adopted, and who have placed children. (I screen my adoptive parent sources more carefully.) I think it's incumbent upon us as a society to start unsnarling all these issues about roles and responsibility, as well as addressing all the root problems of power and powerlessness that leave people -- usually women and children -- so very vulnerable.

We're making progress. Very, very slowly. In another generation the idea of sealed records will seem unthinkable; the stigma of being adopted (some today say they never felt it, which is great) is fading. But as all the untidy workings, emotional and legal, are dragged out into the sun, the last thing to make it to the light is the truth of being a mother who places a child for adoption. (That stigma is alive and well.) There are as many different realities as there are mothers -- and we have to learn to take them seriously, without discarding the ones that make us sad or uncomfortable or angry. In fact those are the ones that need the most attention.

It's frightening, this wandering into unknown territory. It challenges the beliefs that make us feel like we understand the world, whether that means assuming that birthmothers are crackhead fuckups or sidetracked success stories who just need to put it all behind them. The work can't be limited to people directly affected. It's something that has to happen everywhere. I have faith in the power of the blog, though -- remember how infertility used to be a big dirty secret? In a few years, that's begun to change, and not just because infertiles talk to each other -- it's changing because people who aren't infertile are starting to read and think and talk about it.

I don't know right now where our future lies in terms of adoption -- but I do know that I am grateful, every day, to receive lessons in what it means to be human from Kateri, and Barb, and others, and from truly ethical adoptive parents like Marta and Dawn and Afrindiemum. Maybe I'll never be taking on these issues firsthand, maybe I'll never have a vested interest outside of wanting a better world for everyone. Maybe the way I get to serve here is to point -- look here, look over there.

I'm honored to do it.

Comments

[barb]

holy cow. i didn't know you read me. but i've heard nothing but lovely things about you...

[baggage]

What a great post..

[mary ann]

"But as all the untidy workings, emotional and legal, are dragged out into the sun, the last thing to make it to the light is the truth of being a mother who places a child for adoption."

As a birthmother, I have to say that's entirely true. There aren't even terms for us to use to refer to the children we aren't raising.

I lost two of my oldest, best friends over my decision. Then I didn't tell my other closest friends if I could possibly avoid seeing them for those last four obvious months. My entire office knew and just never spoke of it...

The adoption is somewhat open. I have talked to them once in five years, very recently. But I did really believe them when they said to call anytime and I could always come and hang out and all that. I just... didn't... couldn't...

Anyway, I think I might meet up with them when I'm home for Christmas. It was their idea.

[afrindiemum]

isn't that always the way it happens?

[luolin]

When things get nasty on blogs, between bloggers, you and Kateri are one of the examples I think of where conflict and anger eventually led to friendship and growth. It gives me hope.

[DD]

Thank you for giving me something to show my husband tonight. Truly. Thank you.

[Lilian]

Beautiful post. I've always been amazed (that's not the right word, but I can't think of another) at how you and Kateri became friends after the blog and adoption board "disagreement." Luolin is right in what she says.

I fully second your last words. I have never learned so much in my life as I did after I started reading Dawn's and Kateri's blogs. I'm so thankful that they are so open and share their experiences with us. Oh, and I think I actually found your blog from that post Kateri wrote about you! (or after that whole brouhaha brought on by Kate's comment on Tertia's blog -- which is also how I got to know Kateri, because Dawn was sorry about the whole incident)... sorry about the pathetic parenthesis, I'm totally going in circles here :)

[Marie]

Today I am slightly older then you and Kateri and I am the mother of three small children. Almost 18 years ago I gave birth to a little boy who was wanted, (I am rabidly fond of children), but decided that I couldn't, shouldn't keep. Your post has intersected a bit of time where I have been forced to start considering where that little boy, (man?), fits in my life. I don't have an open adoption, but it has always been my intention to make sure that my side of the records are open if Shawn does want the information. With his 18th birthday coming up in a couple of months, I feel like I need to go and clean up my file with agency.

I've read some of Kateri's wedsite in regards to her adoption experience. Not
much though. I have to admit that it seems too sad and depressing to me. Sometimes I've said to myself, "Well, her problem is that she's obsessing about the adoption. That's why I don't often seek out experiences about adoption. Too much pain." I've noticed though that the pain can sometimes come out in different ways. For example, I never wanted my first son to be a secret, but that's what has happened. My oldest girl is almost 7, but no one has ever told her. I tell myself that it's because of her age, but I don't know under what circumstances I will eventually have to tell her and my other kids about Shawn.

My son was born in 1989, but in someways my adoption is as secret and untalked about as if it happened in the 50's. My family doesn't refer to it out of a desire not to upset me, and it is hard to talk about. I feel weird and guilty about calling him my son, because I'm not raising him, and certainly the society at large does not appear to know what to do about my sticky role. My perception is that society tends to have two conflicting views on birthmothers. At one end we are lauded as courageous and unselfish. But at the other end there is an almost hatred. People don't know how any feeling, good human being could "Abandon" their baby. People want desperately to adopt, but some of them feel a deep suspicion of the person who is doing the surrendering. And a lot of good people are aware of the unthinkably great pain the birthmother is going through, and so feel the need to avoid thinking about her in order to protect themselves, understandably.

It is a kind of gray, undefined world that a birthmother lives in. I am not Shawn's mother, and I am Shawn's mother. I don't know quite what to do with that myself. I felt compelled to write this partially because I feel like in the next two months I need to write a letter to Shawn to put in his file. And like most of the things associated with the adoption, I've avoided thinking and dealing with this task. I'm hoping that this will help a little. Because even though I've avoided this issue, and I don't know where my son fits in to my life, I've always been terrified he wouldn't want to search for me, wouldn't want to know me. In Febuary he becomes legally old enough to look me up.

Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to write this. I stumbled into the world of infertility blogs a couple of years ago through "Alittlepregnant," and stuck around because I like the people and the writing.

Marie

[Denise]

Thoughtful post. Thank you. I think it is all too true that "At one end we are lauded as courageous and unselfish. But at the other end there is an almost hatred. People don't know how any feeling, good human being could 'Abandon' their baby." I have heard of adoptive parents who are contacted to see if they want to adopt their child's new birth sibling, and family members make comments like, "Why does she keep having children?" Things like that.

But what in your opinion is a "truly ethical" adoptive parent? I muddle along trying to be as good a mother as possible to my boys, but I bristle at the suggestion that there is one set of attitudes or actions that will be "correct" regarding their birthparents. They have different personalities and will handle things differently, and between them they have four different birthparents, none of whom will the same way. (None of the birthparents requested an open adoption, so I don't know them right now, although I hope they will get in touch in the future.) What is "ethical"?

[Jo]

What is ethical? Good question.

Denise, I don't think I suggested that there is *one* way to think about birthparents or parents considering placement -- that's why I think it's important to read and take seriously the words of real, actual birthparents.

But there are some obvious things like avoiding coercive situations. Afrindiemum has a nice archive of her posts on the topic of ethical adoption.

[Jo in Utah]

Where are the dads? I did a presentation for a social work class on fathers who place children for adoption. Talk about blowing my preconceived notions and biases. These dads grieve, even when they never got to even see their children. Life long grief. These adopted children all have parents. 2 parents. Extended family. They already belonged somewhere before they were adopted and now they have two families. One family doesn't somehow disappear just because they were adopted by another one.
And I am an adoptive parent.

[Rosemary Grace]

A girl I went to elementary school with got pregnant while backpacking around the world, she came home immediately and chose to become a single mother. The father was told she was pregnant, and asked to marry her, to be a family with her, she turned hom down. As far as I know she cut all contact with him. They were both about 18 or 19. She's married now, and happy, her wee boy is doing great, but whenever I hear of her I can't help but wonder if there's some poor guy in Australia greiving for the child he never got to meet.

[Kathleen]

I'm interested to see what the children are going to say about all of this. What will their perspective be of the various kinds of open adoption?

I realize there is no one perspective from any points of the triad of adoption, but their input, whatever it is, will surely further shape adoption in the future.

[Kateri]

Kathleen, I am SO looking forward to the kids in open adoptions to reach blogging age. should happen any year now ;)

[Kay]

This has nothing to do with the topic at hand, or maybe it does. It's not about me. A friend in high school got pregnant, and placed her daughter for adoption. (we never even knew she was pregnant) When the girl was 16, my friend was contacted by the adoptive parents to see if she wanted her daughter back. She did. They are now a family again. That doesn't really answer any questions, but I think it is a neat story. My friend loved her child enough to give her a better life as an infant by giving her up, and loved her enough to give her a better life as a teen by taking her back. Kids are not pawns, of course. But I think some birthmoms are just really special.

[Margie]

Just found you from Roundisfunny - and love this post. Love it, love the honesty, the willingness to look at adoption seriously.

I look forward to reading more, and hope you stop by as well.

[Poor_Statue]

Wonderful, wonderful post. I love the language. And yeah, still plenty of stigma here.

[Jo]

Margie -- I hope this is okay, but I am linking to a really amazing post of yours about ethics in adoption.

I wish it had been around for me to read two years ago -- but at the same time, I doubt I would have "gotten it" the way I do now.

[Dawn]

Kathleen, there is a study that's been ongoing -- I'm too lazy to google but it's the Texas/Minnesota study -- easy to find with a search engine. The researchers have been interviewing members of the triad in open adoptions and their findings (the kids are in their teens now) are really really interesting. Professionals in the adoption industry who have been promoting openness say the study is proving all of their anecdotal evidence correct -- open adoption is better for all involved, especially the kids.

[jenebene]

Well, I appreciate the role you've taken, as uncomfortable as it makes me feel. We adopted a little boy 20 months ago whom our social worker referred to as a "sky baby"--if ever a phrase to make a first mother invisible! Although at the time I thought it charming, as if our baby had fallen from the heavens like a gift from God not some earthly real woman, and I was (I now admit to myself) relieved that the real young woman who left him in the hospital (after only the counseling provided postpartum there by our agency) wanted nothing to do with us, thinking this would probably be easier for all of us, even for our BABY.

Then, after reading the blogs of adopted children from closed adoptions, I became angry that she wanted nothing to do with us and I have been grieving the loss of her for our baby--this woman whom I think will likely always choose to be a mystery, and who has in effect made our baby's first father even less accessible by choosing not to name him.

NOW, after reading Kateri for a little bit, and posts like this, I am forced to expand my discomfort level further, to acknowledge her as grieving too in her own way, even if that meant not obtaining prenatal care, not abstaining from drugs, not making a plan, not asking about her/our baby, not wanting openness.

We were not there to coerce her. I trust the social worker who counseled her because our agency is especially sensitive and progressive. Her poverty and other children and race and lack of education and unemployability coerced her. And somehow I yet have to learn to deal with my part, and my responsibilities, in all of this. For now, it's all about being as open as I can be to learning as much as I can about how everyone feels. Thank you for helping me do that even as I'm hating it.

Jen D.

[abebech]

This is a great post, and many of the comments have me thinking too. I've just "met" you, coming from Kateri's blog, so now I have some reading to do to catch up!

[expat]

Great post, the more I read about adoption the less I want to be part of the tangle.

But you know, I wish that the gamete donation world wasn't a decade or two behind the adoption world in terms of coercion and openness.

[cloudscome]

Great post. I love your writing and have learned so much from you on so many topics. Thanks for sharing your journey with us.

[Naomi]

Adoption is a big deal thing. Anyone who throws the idea around lightly is mis-informed. There are issues regarding the child's loss of biological connections, the complications of weaving birth family into yours, dealing with adoption language, attachment issues, and often transracial family issues. This is scratching the surface. However, I do know that we are a better family, and I would like to hope that we are better parents because of our journey to become an adoptive family. Good luck with your continued exploration of the subject.

[abogada]

I agree with "expat." My daughter was conceived using donor eggs. I haven't quite wrapped my mind around where the donor fits into our lives, though the program was anonymous -- no "open" option. And there isn't any template for going forward in terms of what I need to do to help my daughter understand what are complex issues. I guess this is a little off topic, sort of. But I do wonder if our donor wonders about us, and the other families that she helped to create with what I see as a pretty unselfish act.