A Road Without A Map

Last night, my daughter had her Senior Prom. She's been dating her boyfriend, Brandon, for about  a year. They fell in love last summer during a trip to Japan they both went on with other students from their school. Brandon is a great kid, and he also happens to be a Korean-born adoptee. 

So, last night before prom, parents came to our house to take pictures. I had the opportunity to spend some time talking with with his mother. Brandon is the middle of three children, each adopted from different regions in Korea. His mother isn't aware of my personal views, only that I am an adoptee and a birthmother. Brandon is a talented musician, a drummer, and he writes his own music. He was drawn to music without his parents urging because they didn't and couldn't have known themselves. His mother and I were discussing this incredible talent, and I saw it as a perfect segue into an issue I've been thinking about recently. I explained to her that, as adoptees, we don't have the map for our future that children have when they are raised by their natural parents. Children are given this map as a way to see areas where they may excel or have a genetic bent toward certain subjects, trades, or skills. Without this parental/familial model, adoptees are left to figure it out on their own- we often flounder through our teenage and college years, trying to figure out what it is we are really good at, or what we want to be when we grow up. After explaining to her this map scenario I asked her if they had put him in drum lessons at a young age. She said no. She said he didn't need the map, he did it on his own. She made it sound like he was literally crawling across the floor towards drumsticks, picking them up and making sense of it before he could even walk. This is so profound to me, that he knew because it's just part of who he is. Most adoptees aren't so lucky. It's like we have these untapped parts of our lives that could change our entire trajectory, our future, but we just. don't. know. It's yet another reminder for us that we are different and it reiterates the importance of genetic ties to family and who we are.

I've avoided much talk about adoption with Brandon. I know he has moments where he struggles with it. I know he loves his family, but I also know he wonders, like most adoptees do, about who he is and where he came from... for some reason, I just can 'go there' with him. But, he knows that I know, and I know that he knows. It's like a current surrounds us, bringing us silently together in understanding.

The layers of Adoption

In the adoption community there are so many differing opinions to take into consideration and I'm not sure whose is most valuable, so I take them all and sort through each one. My personal opinions have shifted from one side of the spectrum to the other in the last 6 months. There are very strong women and men in both camps- we have pro adoption and anti adoption. We have adoptees and birth families that want records unsealed and adoption lawyers that want to keep them closed, family members we are afraid of hurting, and people that would've lived on this earth a little longer had they been given their medical history. We have adopted teens attempting suicide, and teen moms celebrating adoption. There are birthmothers that are pissed...so pissed because their children were ripped away from them without their consent, adoptive parents willing to give birthmothers a video tape of their child. There is open adoption, private adoption, children in foster care, international adoption, orphans, child trafficking... the layers are endless and because of it, people are left bleeding all over the world.

The adoptions I knew about were neat and tidy, they were packaged up in a pretty bow on a baby, making parents dreams come true-giving the impression that being adopted was a favor to the birthmother and that everyone's life was much better for her selfless decision. That's the myth but the truth isn't so comfortable. There's a dark side and sometimes it isn't revealed until your precious little baby gift becomes a really messed up teen. If any of those parents were willing to scratch the surface of their happy adoption story, they would find that lives were turned upside down and the process, from the other side, wasn't pretty and very likely, a corrupt acquistion. The modern day adoption industry is a multi billion dollar business and as I've said before, with numbers like that the folks on the adoption side will do just about anything to get that baby.

I had NO IDEA the magnitude of this, the scope of angry, lost adoptees and birthmothers that are screaming about the wrong-ness of it all, and they have every right to be angry. I think I fall somewhere in the middle. I don't fault my parents. I love my parents and I believe they did the best they could with the information they were given. They just didn't know any better when they adopted me in 1970, so naturally when I turned up pregnant, that was the simple solution I was given as well.  I willingly chose adoption for my child. I wasn't given options, but I was confident with my decision. And I regret it. Often I hear these young, fresh birth (natural, first mothers- there's proper verbage to use in this community, you know) mothers that are so thrilled with their open adoption experience. They are loud and vocal, just like I was at that stage, and they want the world to know they had a baby and selflessly gave it up (surrendered, relinquished- proper verbage) for adoption. When I hear this, I just shake my head because they have NO IDEA how this loss will manifest itself in the future. Just wait.

Ironically, the deeper I dig into this black hole, the more clarity I have. I see it .. the wrong-ness that everyone is screaming about and I just wish I had known all of this sooner.

Patchwork Family

Being an adoptee is most noticeable within the adoptive family. The differences scream at you loudly and often. Your appearance, your interests, your strengths and your weaknesses are reminders that you have genetic ties elsewhere. My brothers are biological. Like my parents, I know they love me, but my impression is that they observe me with a perplexity, like a difficult math equation, or an unexplained bruise. Nature vs. Nurture. I was raised  in the same home, with the same rules and unconditional love, but in my case, nature was clearly the winner.
   
Birthmothers and adoptees are a patchwork family held together by an invisible thread of loss . When you meet one and realize you have a shared adoption experience, it's like being given a precious gift, "Ohhh! So am I! How old were you?, etc.." ((hugs ensue)), then the bubble that briefly insulated us from the rest of the world pops, and we go back to whatever it was we were doing before. From that moment, we're related. This thread spans across the world- we are the same race, gender, sexual orientation, and age. I now have mothers and siblings all over the country, with the singular moment that ties us together forever.

In this deep sea of lost adoptees I've been so fortunate to meet others just like me- on an often futile search for truth, identity, and belonging. We're on the Island of Misfits, each of us waiting for our plane ticket out of here.

P.S.

A few days ago, I was having a heated conversation with my 18 year old daughter about this blog and the issues that surround it. I suggested she 'follow' it and her response was, "But, I don't agree with you." I appreciate her opinions and I respect her. I know she has her own reasons. For example, her boyfriend is a Korean born adoptee, her mother is an adoptee, her older half sister was placed for adoption, and her cousin was adopted from Russia. She has been a quiet observer, yet entwined and directly effected by the world of adoption. 

Sometimes, I forget to step outside of my own head. I assume that because my perspective has been altered then those around me should be also. This paradigm shift didn't happen overnight. I recognize that there are adoptees and birthmothers with opposing views and I believe their feelings are valid. I may not agree but I'm certainly not in the business of persuasion (yes, I am.) I'm not trying to sound insensitive, but the views of adoptive parents don't carry that much weight with me. Their vision is tunneled by the gift of someone else's child and that's the extent of their adoption experience. But, I'm willing to listen.

My hope is that this opens up dialogue among people on all sides of the adoption triad (yes, even adoptive parents) and that we will see the complicated layers through one another's eyes. 

A Letter to Parents (of daughters)

Dear parents,

If your daughter comes to you, terrified, and tells you she's pregnant, please take a moment to just...breathe.  It's a baby, not the end of the world. It may feel like it, but it's not. I beg you to consider your choices. The truth is, if you tell her that adoption is the "best choice", she will believe you. She trusts you and though she may not act like it, deep down she wants your approval. However, if this is the option you give her, you're causing more harm. It's not about the infertile couples or the people that just want to grown their families, it's about the heart and soul of your daughter and her child. It's deciding the fate of a baby that doesn't have the voice to say, 'No thank you, I'd rather stay with my mother.' I know you "don't want to raise this baby", that you've "already raised your children", and that you feel you shouldn't have to "pay for her mistakes". I've heard it all before. How about this option? If she has already decided not to terminate the pregnancy, fantastic. That's a decision most girls in her position don't make. Now, how about discussing with her -first- every single possible scenario in the entire universe so that she can parent her child. Dig deep and figure out how you can help her. Exhaust every option, resource and support. Call in the troops (it takes a village). This isn't just her baby, it's yours too. I can assure you that you won't regret it. Adoption may seem like a quick fix but the long term damage is almost certain.

Sincerely, A birthmother

Surrogacy- My Fourth Child

Sometimes, I get so tired of thinking and talking about adoption. 

Let's talk about something else... like surrogacy! Unlike adoption, it was 100% positive and life giving, for everyone involved. There was a happy ending and a beautiful little girl that made a family complete. And, it was NOT my child, it was someone else's. I had no moral conflict with this decision.

Jen is my best friend. We grew up together. We were roommates during the college years and after. We were young, living in the city where we spent our days rarely doing what we were supposed to, and our nights being seen, in the scene. I don't think we ever slept during that time, maybe for an hour, then we'd wake up and start all over again the next day. Every morning we'd run into the others room, laughing until we cried, about the gossip and hilarity from the night before. It was excessive, and beautiful, and I wouldn't trade those memories for the world. Nothing important mattered, except perhaps, what we were going to wear.
  
Then, we both grew tired of it, so we got married. I had babies while she tried and tried to do the same. I spent hours on the phone with her, hearing her agonize about wanting a baby that never came, the failed IVF treatments, and her fear. "You will have a baby" I would tell her. During one of those phone calls, she said they were considering surrogacy.  "You can't let a stranger have your baby" I said. So, I offered, which  seemed like the logical thing to do. And so it began... 

On Mothers Day we transferred two embryos ("perfect" blastocysts) and two weeks later it was confirmed. I was pregnant (with only ONE, thank God). Two weeks after that, it was also confirmed that Jen was pregnant. Fertility specialists, shots, blood work, attorneys, full psychological evaluations, 60 page legal contracts, preterm labor, and two months of bedrest.  I was pregnant with a girl, and she was pregnant with a boy. We went through all of it holding hands every nauseous step of the way. I went into labor one month early. Jen and her husband were in the delivery room with my husband and I, she was pregnant, her baby due 5 weeks later. They named her Arden Jo (my middle name). We had our own room, they had theirs with their baby. I pumped colostrum, handed it over, and couldn't wait to get home to my kids. (Let her deal with the sleepless nights :) My job was done.

People ask me if it was hard to give her away, or if I was attached. It was never hard. Maybe because of my adoption experiences, or because I knew all along why I was doing it, I don't know, but yes- I am attached. Arden is a sweet, thoughtful 10 year old and she calls me her "surro-mom". She's part Jen and when I look at her I see the efforts that were made to bring her into this world. I couldn't love her more.

I've had four children. The first one was an unnecessary loss. The next two were planned and everything was done the "right way". The last one was an unconventional gift, and I was the vessel. Being a surrogate was one of the best decisions I've ever made. 

I Want The Truth

I have no recollection of my birth. But, I imagine it being similar to the day I delivered my daughter. I see nothing but darkness. I remember it being so dark that I could hardly make out her tiny face. The doctor and nurses were all fumbling around in a dark room, mumbling words I couldn't understand. It wasn't, of course, but that's how I remember it. I could only hear her cry. 

I often wonder my first mothers circumstances. Was she sent away, hidden from her family and community? Did she see me after delivery? Was she alone? What is her name? Did she willingly choose adoption or was she coerced? After all, This was New York in 1970. Adoption was shrouded in secrecy.

I was placed in the foster care system for almost 9 weeks, even that makes me wonder if she was undecided during that time. According to my adoptive parents, my foster mother was a single, elderly woman that had difficulty hearing. When my parents met me for the first time they said I, literally, had holes in my bottom because my diapers were never changed. They said they would put me in my crib to sleep and they wouldn't know when I woke up because I never cried. My mom thought I was more content in my crib than anywhere else because that's where I was left for the first 9 weeks of my life. They said I was really hungry. I was 8 lbs at 9 weeks. When I say these things out loud, I don't feel like I'm talking about myself. I'm just telling a story about a baby that was neglected.  (Read: Primal Wound)

Those images and stories are the thoughts that swirl around in corners of my mind, clouding a day that others celebrate. Birthday. Day of birth. Secrets. Darkness. Separation. Loss. I really do try, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. And, there's only one thing that will answer so many questions. My birth certificate. The real one. The truth.

Today, in New York, there is a real fight happening by the thousands of adoptees that have been silenced for decades. We want access to our original birth certificate. www.nyadoptionequality.com   Each one of them have stories similar to mine. Or worse. Or better. But, we're all connected by the scarlet thread of adoption. There were no legal documents that promised anonymity to our biological families. We want our medical information, genealogy, family history and roots, just like everyone else. Our birth parents forfeited their right to everything when they signed that surrender document. Protection from what? Pull it together, we're coming for you. 

I'm sorry, in advance.

Since my late 20's I've been volunteering at adoption agencies. I did this with the deep need to connect with the birthmothers, the ones that had already placed their children. As the years went on, my interests began to change. I became more interested in the girls that were still on the fence, the ones that were undecided. The social workers felt, as an advocate for adoption, that I was the perfect person for them to talk with when they asked questions about what life would look like later.  Because, you see, every one of them need to know the truth. But, the truth is, they are never given that information upfront. They never wanted me alone with the girls. They would de-brief me before each meeting. I felt it. I knew what they were implying and that they had their own hidden agenda. The last agency I went to didn't provide counseling for the girls, either during their pregnancy, or most importantly, after placement. Astounded, I asked them "WHY?!!!", their response was that, "none of them ever showed up".  What my mind screamed was, 'That's because they're curled up in the fetal position somewhere, unable to get up off the ground!' 

I've been surrounded by adoption. I have many close family members and friends that have adopted, both domestic and international. Adoption is celebrated. I was told that adoption is the "best option" for an unplanned pregnancy. That's not true. The "best option" are that a mother and child are together. If the mother can't do it on her own, then family needs to step up and do everything possible to make sure the mistake doesn't become an inhumane punishment. I don't actually understand how anyone can have an opinion on this if they have never been adopted or placed a child for adoption. 

I've had a lot of push back when I voice these truths. But, the fact is, I don't care. Unless you've been on the other side, you have no idea what you're talking about. For the adoptive families, the adoption agencies, the adoption lawyers, the social workers... they ALL have one common agenda: To Get That Baby. Now, I do believe there are prospective adoptive parents out there with beautiful intentions. They want children, they've struggled with infertility, they want ethnic diversity (international adoptions), etc. Some are even willing to take a child with special needs (not many, mind you. I went through every profile at the last agency. Most want a perfectly healthy, white infant). Baby shopping. I also believe that there are certain circumstances where adoption might be in the best interest of the child. But, there aren't many. Orphans, for example. Even still, are there no other family members? And, let's not forget to prove they're orphans to begin with.. But, these prospective adoptive families just don't know, and, they really, really want a baby. They'd rather have their own, but if they can't, they'll gladly raise someone else's.

When a child is taken from its mother, the problem isn't fixed. In that single moment, when the irrevocable surrender is signed, the problem has just become so much larger than life. You've set into motion something that can never be undone, and I will never again say it's okay.

I'll leave you with this quote:

"Adoption loss is the only trauma in the world
where the victims are expected by the whole of society
to be grateful."

The Reverend Keith C. Griffith, MBE

Why I Support Adoptee Rights

Why I Support Adoptee Rights

Surrender

In 1990, open adoption was a relatively new concept. It was just becoming another option in the adoption process, considered quite progressive at the time. When I placed my daughter, I had agreed on letters and pictures for the first two years. After nine months had passed, the adoptive parents contacted the agency expressing an interest in seeing me. I was hesitant, only because I knew it would be difficult, but I also knew I really wanted to see my baby girl. My heart won the battle and we met the following week. Seeing her destroyed me and rescued me at the same time. Her nine month old eyes already knew me when I held her in my arms. She was mine and we both knew it. Her parents and I became the poster family for Open Adoption. We spoke around the country at adoption panels and agencies to promote the concept. It became cathartic for me. I'm a terrible public speaker. The only thing I remember about those engagements was trying not to cry.

Fast forward 25 years later, after the Disney vacations together, after she was the flower girl in my wedding (and my best friends wedding), after she was there to meet her newborn half sister and brother, after I sat through her graduation, after she told me I was going to be a grandmother... we've never missed those moments in each others lives. It hasn't always been easy. There has been jealousy, natural jealousy, on both sides. Me, watching another family raise my child. Her, watching me be a mother to her siblings. Heartbreaking. But, she loves her family. She's well adjusted (more than most adoptees I know). She's happy.

She's having a baby in May. A girl. She and her husband are going to be wonderful parents. However, it's another break in the natural flow. This pregnancy has resurfaced the loss for me. I won't be 'grandma' in the traditional sense, and it makes me unbelievably sad. I didn't see this coming. I wasn't even thrilled when she told me she was pregnant. I was all offended, like, 'How can she be doing this to me?!'. I got over it, obviously. Now, I swear I love that baby like it's my own, you'd think I was the one pregnant.

This is adoption. These are the visible cracks; the wounds that spill out all over the place, when all you're trying to do is make it as normal as possible. But, you can't. It's irretrievably broken. 

Who Am I?

Currently, in the state of New York all adoption records are sealed. Several states have changed this law, which enables adoptees to have access to their original birth certificate (OBC). This simple piece of paper is something most of the general population take for granted. With this piece of paper you're given your identity. It's a doorway to discover medical information and family history that an adoptee would never have otherwise. The amended birth certificate is an alias, filled in with made up information. It gives my adoptive parents names, the new name they chose for me, the (supposed) city of my birth, and my (supposed) date of birth. That's it. It's like the Witness Protection Program.


Over the years, my search has taken me down rabbit trails that always have a dead end. I've hired a private investigator, national search and reunion companies, registered with every database, etc. I've heard stories of other adoptees that have had luck with some of these, but I haven't been so lucky.


Last month I took a DNA test. It took about three weeks for my results. When I opened the email, I was literally shaking. As I sat there, absorbing the percentages of each region, the feeling was surreal. It felt like I was being formed; becoming a real person. It was more information than I've ever known about myself. Throughout my life people have asked me, almost daily, what nationality I am. My response has always been the same, " I was adopted, I have no idea." This DNA test also confirmed that the non-identifying information I received from the state of New York was inaccurate. Or, perhaps it was the information my mother gave the agency that was inaccurate. Either way, there's more to this story. I need to meet her. She placed me for adoption when she was 19. I placed my daughter when I was 19. The irony isn't lost on me.

I recently wrote (handwritten!) letters to each assemblyman in New York, pleading with them to pass this law (http://assembly.state.ny.us/leg/?bn=A02901). Until this happens, I'll remain in the dark, drawing lines through the medical history portion at doctors offices. I want, no... I need to do more.  I need to be more involved in this process. I encourage anyone that supports adoptee rights to take this challenge: http://www.nyadoptionequality.com/take-the-%e2%80%8esimplepieceofpaper%e2%80%ac-challange/

I'm not sure where this journey is taking me but I no longer want to sit back and wait for things to happen. I just figure, if we all scream loud enough then maybe they will listen.  

My New Perspective

So, it was my birthday a couple of days ago. 45. And, the strangest thing has been happening during this last year. I'm not quite sure what to do with it, so I've decided to write. I've come out of the adoption closet, so to speak. I've always been a huge advocate of adoption, being that I'm adopted AND I've placed a child for adoption (and I was a surrogate for my best friend, but that's a different blog post). 

My entire life I've been told that I should be grateful; that I was adopted by such a wonderful family (it's true, they are), that I found such wonderful parents to raise my daughter (it's true, they are), that I didn't have to struggle being a single mom, that I get to know my daughter...etc. The truth is, I had no choice. No one asked me if I wanted to be taken from my birthmom, that story was written without my permission and no one prepared me for the trauma caused by giving my daughter away. The social workers just told me that it was a selfless decision, that it will be hard but I will move on and have my whole life in front of me. As if, with enough time, I'll forget it ever happened. How it really works is like this: no amount of therapy, marriage or more children, or medication, or exercise, or wine...or..anything will ever make it better. They never told me there would be moments, even at 45, where you can't breathe because you miss her so much. And, because of this, I can no longer support adoption as the best option for an unplanned pregnancy. Adoption is not God's plan. A mother with her child, is.

Syracuse, New York 1970. This was before Roe v. Wade passed in 1973, so adopting a child was a pretty painless process. The pregnant girls were often shipped off to unwed homes where they were hidden from society and unsuspecting family members. Only to return several months later to resume life as normal, as if nothing ever happened. http://thegirlswhowentaway.com/

I grieve for them, for my mother. And, I don't find it that dissimilar to my experience 20 years later. Sure, I didn't have to go hide, and I even felt like most people were supportive and treated me with respect for making a "brave decision", but I was told the same thing. That someday I would be fine. Sweep it under the carpet.

For years I've been volunteering at adoption agencies. Mostly because I wanted to hug the birthmoms; to encourage them. Two weeks ago, I quit my volunteer gig at a local agency. I'll never go back to another one. This is what has struck me the hardest: they never wanted me alone with the girls. They never wanted me to "discourage" adoption, even if I felt the girls should keep THEIR child. The bottom line is this- adoption agencies want those babies. It's how they pay their bills. They wanted me to be an example of "look how great your life will be someday!" but, ultimately, they wanted me to keep my mouth shut.

I struggle with this post; the tone I want it to have. I DO have a happy life. I DO have so much to be thankful for, and I am. While it sounds like I'm bitter, I don't walk around with cynicism. I'm both/and. I love my family and the life I have, AND I grieve the loss I've had because of adoption.