Knowing Where You Came From

Some time ago, I wrote a magazine article about Mary Lou who learned when she was 30 that she had been adopted.  “I always knew I was different  from other members of my family,” she told me, “but I couldn’t put my finger on what I was feeling.”  From the moment she learned about her adoption, she became obsessed with wanting to find out more about her birth parents.  Every time she stopped her car at a red light, she peered into the car next to her to see if anyone looked like her.   When she sat under the hair dryer at the beauty salon, she scanned the faces of other women to see if she could detect  a resemblance.  She knew she had been born in a small town in Pennsylvania and when she accompanied her husband on a business trip to that town, she had a feeling she might get closer to her roots.   She told me that when she gazed out of the hotel window where she and her husband were staying, she had the feeling she was close to her birth mother.  She learned later that her birth mother had died, but was buried in a cemetery that she could see from that window.  While she was not able to meet her, it gave her a sense of peace to know more about her and what had happened to her.

I thought about Mary Lou when I read an editorial the other day with the headline, “Let the truth be set free.”  The article that followed described a bill passed by the New Jersey Assembly that, if signed by Governor Christie, would give adults access to their original birth records.   Only a handful of states allow that access.  In those that do, it is the experience that not every adopted adult takes advantage of that option.  Many of those who are adopted are content without digging into their past. However, for those like Mary Lou who agonized about her origin for years, access to their records would be freeing not only for them but for their adoptive parents who want their children to be as emotionally well-adjusted  as possible.

Finding Home

Our daughter found her birth/first family.  And when they responded—in kindness with no doubt a good dash of curiosity—they invited her to visit.  She took them up on the invitation.  (And yes, gut reaction: I was thrilled for her—and them—but, at the same time, died a little inside.)

An adult now, she needed no permission to go.  Using her own instinct to confirm this was the right time, she and her boyfriend made the trek several months ago. I heard later that all who gathered were delighted how well she fit in, particularly with sibling sisters—in looks, height, temperament—for they were amazed that they all share the “same” nose, thin hair, and baby blue eyes. (Amidst the giggles, their mantra:  “Oh, thank goodness, I’m not the only one!”)

It had been over 16 years since she’d seen them face to face.  I daresay she might not have remembered much of that visit, but I do. That was a trial because she wanted to stay with them. Felt right at home.  Did not want to get in the car and drive to our house. Kicked.  Yelled.  Begged.  The whole gamut of emotions.  All of it—anguish included—broke my heart at the time.

With screaming by her and blubbering by me, my husband had quite a time driving in torrential flooding rains through several states.  At one point, she started a new wave of hacking emotion and blurted once again, “I want to go back home—back there!”  When I protested and said we would miss her too much, she looked at me with a puzzled stare, “Well, I’d only stay if you and dad stayed, too!”  (Hmmm.  Good to know.)

We never hid from her the fact that she is adopted.  In fact, we used the term often–both casually and formally.  It was a natural, any day term she grew up hearing.  I imagine it shaped her identity somewhat, even when she was quite young and didn’t understand all of its ramifications. 

Carroll Connor (the actor who played “Archie Bunker”) was reported to have said to his adopted son, “It’s like this:  when your mother and I got married, she ‘adopted’ me and I ‘adopted’ her, and then we adopted you!”   I liked it.  Simple. Clean. Sweet. True.

 

And isn’t it true how much we do “adopt” each other within family circumstances, neighborhoods, church or temple communities, or even workplace teams!  We labor at cultivating harmony by adopting and adapting to the practices and ideas of others, even when doing so pushes our buttons.  Even as it makes us grow and reminds us that we are each a “work in progress.” 

We adapt and weave our unique threads in many tapestries within our lives. Sometimes we adopt good or even great things from one another.  Sometimes, we take on, shall we say, some less loveable characteristics.  Nonetheless, they help form us (and the tapestry to which we contribute), making us more of who we grow up and in to being.   

 

Remembering that didn’t stop my heart from pounding when she said she was going on her adventure.  Or when, at five, she wanted to stay in the house of her first parent.  Rather than react, we thought it best to respond—in kind and kindness.  But there are natural questions adoptive parents have.  Will she still love us?  Will she want to be with us?  And bottom line:  now what do we do?

I always sensed that her natural inquisitive nature would, at some point in her life, win out and she would opt to search for her biological roots.  We told her when she was ready to find her first family members, we would do whatever we could to help her. That she found them on her own was to her credit and her will.  (She has both, in spades!)  

One of the most difficult things any parent does is let their child(ren) grow up.  In an adopted child’s life, this might extend to being okay with or even supporting them to discover their roots and go “home” to a first parent.  Not easy.  Not necessarily comfortable.  But real, nonetheless.

 

During the visit, we Skyped.  After she left the chat, those who stayed behind told us how well she fit in and said how fun it was to see what a remarkable young woman she is becoming.  (Of course, we concur!)  I did my best not to cry (and, in a feat quite remarkable for me, succeeded!).  

Giving her wings and encouraging her to fly was a bit risky, because—well, she did just that!  (She’s always been and will forever be fiercely independent!)  Referencing the Khalil Gibran quote from The Prophet about our children being the arrows—I would say, in her case, she was both archer and arrow; she saw the target and willed herself there.  She discovered the door and could not but open it.  She looked for and found (another) home.   In her case, search and reunion resulted in a true reintegration that was wonderful for all involved.  Seeing them, Skype-face-to-Skype-face, after so many years was quite amazing; it was obvious how delighted they were to be with her again.   We heard their laughter, as natural and knowing as any family’s, for in the span of being together less than a week it was clear they cultivated private and “had to be there” jokes.

 

What I wondered (okay, worried) about was:  would she “settle” there–in that home–or would she return and still be “at home” with us?   It is a valid question to which only she held the answer! No matter the hurt on our part, we would have supported any decision she made.  So this left us with a choice:  be sad for me/us or be happy for her/them.  We chose and continue to choose to be happy for her/them. 

 

True to her nature, she let us know her most amiable answer:  to be in touch with all.  To love and respect all.  As the archer, she shot for a distant shore and could have remained there.  But, as the arrow, she found she could consider home, for her, where the heart is.  Hers.  Ours.  Theirs! 

Before she went, we faced the possibility that she might no longer acknowledge her adoptive home. After all, she had stars in her eyes, adventure in her back pocket, and a passion for the unknown as scintillating as any pioneer who crossed the prairies in search of a new home. 

Upon her return, I asked her what she felt about “family” now?  Her answer:  “Oh—nothing different, really.  Family?—it’s just bigger, that’s all.   I am like them in some ways.  And I am more like you and dad in other ways.  But it’s all good.”

While I experienced a wall between us and some quite palpable distance before she went, the months since her return, much to my surprise, there seems to be emerging a unique and different closeness—she calls a bit more often to tell us news and even asks our help now and again.

She went home and came home and is home—all at once. Based on this experience, this I know is true:  all of us are working toward going home and finding “home”—being with people we love and “at home” as ourselves with them.

Birth-sibling Relationships

I was catching up on some reading this weekend and came across this article from January's issue of Psychology Today Two-Minute Memoir: Alternate Family. Written by an adoptive dad, it explores the choice to assist his daughter in finding her biological sister. The sisters had been placed with two separate agencies and thus with separate adoptive families.

The family had planned on waiting until the child reached 18 to let her do her own birthfamily search, if she felt she wished to at that point. However life had thrown some curveballs and the family decided to find the one sibling they knew about. In the article he explores the fear the family had and how they worked with their daughter to manage the situation. And the new world opened to them through adoption.

Read the article to find out the details. What have been your experiences with the biological family of your child? Any tips or strategies you used?

Adoption Fraud

Recently, a Long Island attorney promised a couple desperate for a baby that he could find an infant for them. The cost, he said, would be $65,000 which the couple handed over happily—a small price, they thought, for the baby they wanted so much.

Unfortunately, there was no baby, just a money-making scheme for the attorney.

We understand how logic and reason can become elusive when an infant seems close enough to touch. However, we caution would-be parents to be wary. It is best to deal with a licensed adoption agency, if possible.

If you are working with an attorney or other intermediary, ask questions. Where is this baby coming from? Who are the parents? Will or have both mother and father relinquished rights to the baby? What do the laws of the state in which the papers were signed say about a parent changing his or her mind? Have the birth parents been counseled so that they are making their decisions thoughtfully and will not change their mind? What is the baby’s health status? When can you see the baby? A trip to another state, if necessary, can save a lot of angst. And, most important, do not allow money to leave your hands until you have actually seen the baby.

Following these suggestions can help you avoid the heartache experienced by the couple for whom, it turned out, there was no baby.

Bridging the Gap: Families Working Together Webcast

The National Resource Center for Family-Centered Practice and Permanency Planning (NRCFCPPP) will host a webcast on Wednesday, September 16 from 1-2 PM (Eastern time) about the importance of the relationship between foster and birth families.

When there is a good relationship, all parents can do a better job in meeting the children’s needs. Studies have shown that a team approach with planned contact between foster and birth parents has resulted in children returning home sooner, having more stable placements, developing better emotionally and achieving more in school.

The experiences of the foster parents with the children in their care can yield valuable insights for the birth families when the children return to them. The webcast will highlight promoting meaningful partnerships between foster and birth parents as well as other family members and caretakers for the well being, safety and permanency of the children. The webcast is a Northern Virginia Foster Care and Adoption Initiative.

The National Adoption Center supports the goal of the NRCFCPPP to help children in foster care receive the love and security that only a permanent family, whether birth or adoptive, can provide.

Click to register for the webcast.