OAR Interview Project 2012: Meet Jenn

Last year I had the opportunity to work with Mrs R, an adoptive mother who writes at The R House. It was a great chance for both of us to learn about perspectives and experiences wildly different than our own (the interviews can be found here and here). This year Heather has done a great job yet again. I had the pleasure of getting to know Jenn, an adult adoptee. She is candid in her discussion of searching for her origins, making meaning of her experiences, and both the beauty and ugliness of adoption. She is very active in the online community, both on her blog and as a regular contributor to Lost Daughters.

Please introduce yourself to readers who may not be familiar with your blog.

For starters, my name is Jenn.  I’m twenty-five years old, and I was adopted as an infant.  When I was twenty-one, I started seriously searching for my natural family members.  Once I made up my mind to really search, it took less than twenty-four hours to find my natural parents thanks to the wonderful Internet.  I reached out to my natural mother and we started emailing back and forth.  Just under a year later I reached out to my natural father and started to get to know him.  I've since met both parents and my two sisters recently found out about me.  I’m currently getting to know the two of them and we’re all learning how to fit into each other’s lives.  I’m also living at home with my adoptive parents and my adoptive sister, something that adds other challenges to the mix as well.

What got you started blogging? What keeps you coming back? Is there a disparity there worth exploring? 

I started blogging after my reunion experience with my natural mother feel apart.  Things with my natural father were going wonderfully, but I was in a rough place because I was trying to balance my fear and excitement.  It was a hard time for me and I looked online for support.  I’d been following several adoptees on their blogs for a few months and figured that maybe it would help me to write about what I was going through.  I was never successful at journaling because there was no accountability.  By blogging, I felt as though I owed my readers a blog post every day.  I’m an all or nothing sort of girl so I just sort of jumped in.  I kept coming back because it helped.  I could go back and read what I was thinking and feeling and see the progress.  My readers give me valuable feedback and insights.  I had the opportunity to meet some of my readers which inspired me to keep going.  I think I started it for me, and while I still blog for me, it’s become something more at this point.

You obviously read quite a few adoption blogs. Can you talk about why you read the blogs you do (individual blogs and/or categories of blogs)?

The first few blogs that I started reading were adoptee blogs.  They were people who had been through something similar and I devoured their stories.  As much as it stunk that someone else had gone through something so horrible, there was something comforting in the fact that I wasn't alone.  And I was able to hope when people wrote about the good things.  If they could be happy and functioning humans after rejection, I could get there too someday.  After I started blogging, I had several natural mothers start commenting on my blog.  I wanted to get to know my readers better so I started reading their blogs, which opened up a whole new category for me.  I started to see where my natural mother might be coming from.  She may not feel the same way as these women, but I started to see that there were shades of grey from these amazing women.  Last year during this interview project I was paired up with an adoptive parent.  I loved her story and her blog and loved how she was doing her part to learn about what her daughter might go through someday.  So I now read several adoptive parent blogs, especially the ones who focus on listening to adult adoptees and constantly educate themselves on adoption related issues in case their child ever experiences them.

Has blogging (as a writer or a reader) significantly affected your thoughts/feelings on adoption in general, or your personal adoption experience?

My thoughts and feelings have shifted over time.  I’m much more educated now that I used to be.  For example, I never thought about the language that I use to describe adoption before.  I've since read several very well written blog posts about why certain language is offensive and the history behind it.  I've since altered my language.  I used to not see a problem with adoption.  I personally didn't have a problem obtaining a passport.  Blogging as taught me it’s a legitimate concern for other adoptees.  I've learned from them about problems that exist in the system.  Before I started blogging, I couldn't tell you what an original birth certificate was and I had no idea mine was sealed.  This past year I joined a demonstration in the fight to open records.  I've learned and grown as I've been reading and blogging.  My ideas have shifted and I've become more comfortable with my stance.  There will always be grey and I appreciate it.  But I've see firsthand some of the wrongs and I think that we owe it to ourselves and future adoptees to find ways of fixing the system.  A good start to that would be opening records.

You have described your adoption as being good but difficult. Can you expand on this apparent duality? 

I love my adoptive parents and my adoptive family.  I had a fairly normal childhood.  I got a great education, found some amazing friends, and have experienced some amazing things.  I've met the most amazing guy in the world I’m going to marry next year.  I love who I am as a person and I know that some of the great qualities I love about myself have come from my adoptive parents since being in reunion.  Being adopted has always been a part of who I am and I do believe it’s helped to shape me as a person.  Growing up, I was more tolerant of other’s differences because I didn't know what my own background was.  I grew up in a wealthy town but the reason I’d been given for my adoption was that my natural mother was young and poor.  It was hard for me to judge those will less in my town because I came from a place that had decidedly less.  I think that way of growing up had its merits.  On the other hand, I wish I hadn't been adopted in an abstract way.  I wish I had grown up around people I looked like.  I wish I had parents who said “I was just like you at that age!”  I wish my personality lined up more with the people who raised me.  I would have loved to grow up knowing about my ethnic background and knowing my family history.  A family medical history would have drastically altered my childhood.  That’s not to say that I wish I’d grown up with my natural parents.  Who knows what my life would have been like if I’d been raised by them?  It might have been better, it might have been worse.  It would have been a different life.  I’m sure if I was the girl I would have been if I’d been raised by them, I’d say I couldn't imagine growing up any other way.  But I’m not that girl.  I’m me, the person raised by my adoptive family and the person who grew up with many missing puzzle pieces.  So while my life is actually good, I wish I hadn't had to face so many challenges and go through pain in reunion in order to get to this particular place.

Is there anything you wish you could tell every adoptive parent?

Two things.  First, be honest and upfront from day one.  Sometimes the truth hurts.  Sometimes the situation it really unpleasant.  And I understand 100% that you want to protect your children.  But when we don't know the truth, adoptees often fill in the blanks.  If you asked me what I thought of my natural parents when I was ten, I would have told you they were probably crack heads or something.  That's what I thought because my adoptive parents never sat down and explained my situation to me.  My natural parents are actually upstanding members of the community.  They are both active in their church, raised two amazing daughters, and are pretty neat people.  My parents didn't know everything, but they did know some things that would have helped.  My natural father was in the army.  That single piece of knowledge would have gone a long way while I was growing up.  Second, listen.  I didn't tell my adoptive parents about what I was going through.  I wanted to protect them from my feelings because I didn't think I had a right to feel the way that I did.  Most of the time I was a happy go lucky kid, but sometimes thoughts about those crack head parents I had invaded my mind.  Kids on the playground can be mean.  So when I did actually talk about things, I needed my adoptive parents to listen.  For the most part, they did, but I think that's something that every adoptive parent has to work extra hard at.  Even know when I'm in reunion, I need my adoptive parents to listen to me and hear what I'm saying.  When I tell them that it's not about them, it's about me, I need them to hear it.  When I tell them that I need them to just let me vent about the process, I need them to let me instead of trying to get me to see things from the other side.  So adoptive parents need to be honest with their children from the beginning and to listen to what their children are saying, even when they are adults.

Is there anything you wish you could tell every first parent?

At some point, my natural parents walked away.  They may have had excellent reasons for doing so.  And my adoptee brain understands those reasons.  My adoptee brain was able to forgive my natural parents for walking away a long time ago.  I don't agree with all their reasons, but I understand why they did it.  The thing is, my adoptee heart still feels like they walked away and that hurts.  No matter how good the reasons were, my adoptee heart still hurts from time to time.  Sometimes I get mad about it.  Sometimes I need space to get over it.  None of these things have anything to do with the actual reasons themselves.  So when these times roll around (and I think they do for a lot of adoptees), I know that for me, I just need a little understanding.  I need my natural parents to not get defensive and understand that no matter what, my adoptee heart is still going to feel that way.  In fact, what I want to hear is that they are sorry for doing that to me and that they love me.  My heart needs to feel like they aren't going to walk away from me again.  And my heart needs to hear it over and over again.  I wish my brain and my heart could get on the same page, but they can't.  And I've heard a lot of adoptees say this same thing.  So understand that sometimes your adopted child may lash out or feel hurt about things.  Its a side affect.  He or she probably wishes that they could control it, but they probably can't.  And what they need most is reassurance, love, and understanding.

Is there anything you wish you could tell every adoptee?

We all feel differently.  And that's OK.  One person's feelings or experiences cannot take away from another.  So if someone is happy to be adopted, then that's fantastic for them.  If someone is unhappy to be adopted, then that's valid too.  Just because one person is happy doesn't make everyone happy, and just because one person is sad doesn't make everyone sad.  I think that we all need that reminder sometimes, especially when blogging.  One adoptees truth is not everyone's truth.  We all are individuals and need to be respected as such.

Are there any specific examples of the support adoptees may need that differs from others (while growing up or as adults)?  Are there any specific examples of ways in which the support adoptees need is the same as others (while growing up or as adults)?

Adoptees are people too!  We need support just like everyone else for life's challenges.  If I go through a bad breakup, I need love and support just like my non-adopted friend does.  I will probably process my breakup differently (for myself, it would probably trigger abandonment issues) but I still need someone there who's willing to listen and hold my hand.  I still need a shoulder to cry on when I loose someone I love, the same as anyone else.  I still want to celebrate when I get a promotion (for me it might feel extra special because I've always felt like I have something to prove), and I still want to go to the bar and have a celebratory drink, the same as any of my friends.  There are small difference in my experience  but then again, my friends all have their own motivations as well.  For all I know, perhaps a friend had a traumatizing experience involving a corpse when he was a child (it could happen) so death triggers him differently.  Perhaps a friend miscarried a child and thus her breakup with the father is a lot harder to process.  We all have various things that separate us as adults (and children too) but we somehow manage to get along.  I think that listening is key, being supportive, and learning that while we can't fully understand, we can still be there for each other.

In many adoptee blogs and forums, a common theme encountered is "difference". It is often describing how the adoptee experience is "different" and how "no one can understand" the experience who is not an adoptee. As someone who is not an adoptee, this theme appears to strengthen alienation by association. Can you talk a little about your experience with alienation, difference, and community? 

I think part of this problem (and yes, it's a problem) is that there really is a difference there.  I was cut off from my family completely and totally.  The closed adoption system made sure I had no contact with anyone I was genetically related to growing up.  I never heard "You look just like Aunt Suzie at that age!", "You've got Uncle Fred's eyes", or "I was just like you when I was young!  I guess this is payback..."  My relatives still said things like that, just about other people.  I always felt like I was on the outside looking in with my face pressed up against the glass.  I got strange looks in public.  People commented from time to time.  And people always looked for similarities that weren't there when they were introduced to my sister and me.  I learned that those things were important with how hard people would try to find similar.  Apparently we have the same facial structure (we don't really).  I've heard that at least ten times.  The thing is, we saw other people who weren't adopted.  I could see that my best friend looked a lot like her mom and her brother.  I saw that my cousins all laughed the same way as my mom.  And I grew up feeling different.  So that difference is there, and it's something that a lot of us have been aware of since we were small children (noting here that not everyone has this experience and some children were matched with families they would probably grow to look like).  I've seen instances online where some people (a small number) have tried to tell adoptees that we aren't really different.  I've seen people try to minimize that difference and act like it doesn't matter.  Only it does.  And that's when I've noticed adoptees getting defensive.  It's also hard to understand something that you haven't been through.  It's not individual to our community by any means.  I identify as a white straight female.  I will never understand what it's like to be a Native American lesbian.  I can listen to her story.  I can sympathize, but not empathize.  I think it's a glaring problem with our community because adoptees aren't supposed to be different (at least when I was born) and being adopted wasn't supposed to be different from being raised in the family you were born too.  So people don't understand this difference and try to explain it in other ways instead of accepting that we can't fully know the other's experiences from their point of view and work on the sympathy side of things.  Instead of finger pointing or having an "us vs them" attitude, I think as a community we need to embrace the differences and move forward together.  Then again what do I know?

Can you talk about the commonalities and differences of experience between adoptees and non-adoptees entering adulthood and struggling to establish a sense of "self"?

Well, I was adopted as an infant, so I don't really have a point of reference for the non-adopted.  I do know lots of non-adopted people so I guess I could take a stab at it.  I think that in general, our sense of self comes from our history, and our experiences   I'm a firm believer that you have to know the past going into the future.  History has a tendency to repeat itself, and I think that we can learn a lot from mistakes and successes in the past.  For adoptees (closed adoptions), we don't usually know our past.  It's hard to move forward when you don't know where you come from.  History is important.  At the same time, I know that I grew into my sense of self based on a number of experiences I had.  Being adopted had nothing to do with my love for dance and the experiences and lessons I learned from that.  I have friends who identified as dancers as well, and most were not adopted.  So in that sense, there are commonalities.  On the other hand, I have friends who used to brag about having ancestors who came over on the Mayflower.  That was a huge part of their "self" and that piece of history was important to them.  It was a part of their truth and personal identity.  I didn't have that.  I had to fill in the blanks or take guesses, but there were a lot of question marks for me.  So in that sense, we're different.  As I learn my history, I can feel my view of myself change slowly as it becomes more complete with less missing pieces.  It's an odd thing to happen as an adult, but now I know that I had ancestors in the US before the Revolutionary War too.  I have my family tree traced back to the 1400's on one branch.  So I guess now I'm trying to find a way to catch up with everyone else!



Thank you again to Jenn for your honesty and patience, to Heather for all your hard work, and to all the Interview Project participants for your courage. Jen's interview with me is here. Be sure to check out the Open Adoption Bloggers page for more exciting projects in the future as well as the exhaustive blog roll for more perspectives to read.

Open Adoption Roundtable #39: Fathers' Day

The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It’s designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community. You don’t need to be listed at Open Adoption Bloggers to participate or even be in a traditional open adoption. If you’re thinking about openness in adoption, you have a place at the table. The prompts are meant to be starting points–please feel free to adapt or expand on them.

Write to someone else in the adoption constellation (someone specific or a general group). What do you want to say to them on Father’s Day?

To my Father,

I have much to be thankful to you for. But this Fathers' Day my thoughts on our relationship are melancholy. I wish you could see me as the man I am today. There is little I want more than for our relationship to be vital and current, both in the events of our lives and in our development as men. I wish you could respect me as a father.

The choice I made with Athena to place our son with another family was difficult for you. I know that to be true because it was difficult for everyone. All adoptions are difficult. But that's the only reason I know it was hard for you. You never told me how you felt, never shared your experience. It felt like you withdrew because of our decision and the way we went about it. I know we placed you in a precarious position. I'm sorry for that. But I also know how I felt. I was angry, sad, and felt very alone. Through out the course of the adoption process my family was not my ally. Still, nearly three years later, we don't talk about it.

I wish you would ask how your first grandson is. He's talking, running, developing a mile a minute, and he doesn't know you. I wish I could show you all the pictures I take of him and all the pictures Ms Scarlet sends me. But either it is too uncomfortable to look at, or you truly don't care. I wish my son could have you as a grandfather. When you play and coo over my nephew, just months younger than my son, I see what a great grandfather you are. I want that for Festus. I want that for myself. I want to feel that I'm still your son. I want to feel that either of us is important enough to seek, to call after, to pursue a real relationship with.

I wish you could see that I am a father. I wish you didn't pretend my son died. Though I'm not a father to him the way you were to me, he is my son.

Happy Fathers' Day dad.

I hope next year, we can both celebrate.

Open Adoption Roundtable Discussion #33: What did you learn about Open Adoption in 2011?

A straightforward prompt for the end of the year:

What did you learn about open adoption in 2011?

The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It's designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community. You don't need to be listed at Open Adoption Bloggers to participate or even be in a traditional open adoption. If you're thinking about openness in adoption, you have a place at the table. The prompts are meant to be starting points--please feel free to adapt or expand on them.

*****************************************************

I don't have it all worked out. I don't know where this adoption process is going. And I'm not afraid. That's just how relationships go. We never know where they're headed, and in truth, I think I'm glad of that.

Open Adoption Roundtable Discussion #30: When Was The First Time You Heard About Open Adoption?

The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It's designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community. You don't need to be listed at Open Adoption Bloggers to participate or even be in a traditional open adoption. If you're thinking about openness in adoption, you have a place at the table. The prompts are meant to be starting points--please feel free to adapt or expand on them.


Athena and I were sitting in the drab grey office of the woman who would soon be our life-line. I had spent the last few minutes nodding as Athena explained our situation. She's pregnant. We know I'm the father. We're not going to parent. We need help.

The social worker we were talking with at Catholic Social Services was receptive, supportive, but surprisingly upbeat. It struck me as odd at the time, though it makes perfect sense now. She wasn't strident about it. Just positive. What I know now is that she had a positive attitude in general, but in that specific instance she knew there were people sitting in front of her who were dedicated to making the best choices they could for their child. She later shared that her immediate sense of confidence in our decision making process was rather rare.

"Have you thought about open adoption?" she asked.

Athena and I looked to one another for guidance, hoping one of us knew what she was talking about.

"To be honest, I have no idea what you're talking about".

Three books, half a dozen printed articles, and several more meetings later we had a good idea of what open adoption could be about. I read my way through Jim Gritter's books and avidly avoided reading the male-hostile works of other authors. A realization began to dawn in my mind. If my son knows me from the beginning of his life, along with his adoptive father, it won't be weird to him. That will be his baseline for "normal". With this realization came day dreams of teaching my son how to build bookshelves, giving gifts at Christmas, high school graduation, his first pocket knife, and a camping trip with him as a young adult. Then came two days of crying.

The guilt and shame of considering placing my son for adoption was assuaged primarily by remembering that it could be okay for him. Even if I felt awful about it, he might not. In the end I felt it was the best chance we had. Two years later we're still here. The world didn't end when Festus was placed with his parents. I can still be happy with surprising frequency. Athena and I are now, ostensibly, a bullet-proof couple. One quick question changed our lives. It let us proceed in good conscience to a choice that may have been too frightening to accept otherwise. But that question was much more than what it appeared to be on the surface.

"Have you thought about open adoption" means "have you thought about the industrialized west's social moores about familial bonds," and "have you considered restructuring the way you understand love?"

Have you deconstructed your priorities, super-imposed a new set of parameters regarding acceptable behavior, and tried to see if any of your goals and priorities can still fit?

Have you questioned the fundamental meaning of being a man or woman?

Have you considered confronting every person you know with a choice you're making that will result in loud, intense, and unpredictable judgements about your worth as a person?

Have you considered seeing your child grow up, really seeing it first hand, and knowing you're a part of that?

Have you considered giving you child a chance to have a genuine connection with his/her lineage?

Have you considered loving your child so much the scrutiny you'll be under doesn't matter?


Bundled up in that question are so many others implicit to the process that I can't list them all. But I answered them. Each and every one. I wish fewer people had to make the choice about whether or not to place their child in adoption. I wish more people in those situations actually had choice. I also wish more people, outside of adoption, answered these questions. The stigma of adoption falls apart when these questions are given the weight of reality. Giving our full consideration of these questions can't help but open our eyes to our prejudices and naivete. Once we see them we can begin work on ridding ourselves of them.

I wish more people would consider open adoption.

Open Adoption Roundtable Discussion #28: Questions from a Closed-Era Adoptee

The O.A.R. is a continuing discussion among bloggers about Open Adoption. It's a chance for people from any background to ask honest questions, often difficult ones, and get honest answers. It has been going on for some time, but, if you want to see other questions and answers there is a log available.

**********************************************************************************

 Here's the preamble, courtesy of Heather:

This round is a smidge different--time for some cross-blog pollination! Lori of Write Mind Open Heart, an adoptive parent in two open adoptions, has up at her blog a set of eleven questions about open adoption which were posed to her by JoAnne, an adult adoptee in a closed adoption. There are some questions there about the role adoption professionals played arranging contact in your adoptions and how you understand the legal weight of any open adoption agreements you may have.

**********************************************************************************

1. Can the adoptive parents really go back on their word after the adoption has been finalized and do whatever they please in regard to updates and pictures?

Yes, at any time. This is one of the most terrifying facts of adoption for first families. That's the difference between fostering and adopting. When signing the paperwork to place a child for adoption the first family loses all legal standing regarding the child. There are no caveats.

2. Who is the go-between for communication with most Open Adoptions: the case worker, the placing agency, or the lawyer handling the adoption?

I must not understand this question. I pray I don't understand this question. The best I can tease out of the way this is worded is who hands the documents back and forth, who makes the calls to update the families, et cetera? I'm fundamentally confused if this is the idea behind this question. I'll answer as best I can.

No one. When initially working out the placement of Festus we were working with Catholic Social Services. The social workers there helped us through the legal process and gave us a lot of good resources (books and the like) for dealing with what was happening emotionally. As for communication between Prof Plum, Ms Scarlet, Athena, and me there was no go between. After Athena and I read the profile Prof Plum and Ms Scarlet put together we decided we'd like to meet. After that meeting all contact between families was done by the families. We called, texted, and e-mailed one another. We still do. The "agency" inquired once or twice how things were going after we placed Festus with his new family. They were brief phone calls and the reminder that we could come in for some counseling for the next six months if we needed it. 

3. What are the advantages and disadvantages for each of the above contact persons?

Not Applicable

4. How can case workers be involved in Open Adoption as well if DHS are already so understaffed and the budgets are maxed out for the thousands of forgotten children lost in the system?

I'm feeling a bit cagey at the moment so forgive me if this seems hostile. That's not my intent, but I do find this question frustrating. What I'm seeing here, effectively, is the question "why work on making open adoptions healthy when so many kids have it so bad in foster/temporary care?" Because one kid in a bad home is one too many. It's true that there are thousands of children in horrible circumstances. It's terrible to think of what these children deal with every day and worse to feel powerless to change it. It's also true that the difference between an open adoption that works and one that closes, ruins relationships, and shatters lives may be a two hour conversation with a counselor. An adoption that closes hurts more than the adults involved. It hurts the child in very real and lasting ways. In terms of hours invested open adoptions are a drop in the bucket. Others' experience may be different, but that is my understanding from the professional social workers I know.

5. Is there an incentive such as money for the adoption agency to be still involved indirectly and indefinitely for an Open Adoption? Does it cost the prospective adoptive parents more money upfront for it to be an open adoption?

I do not know of any agency that remains engaged, in perpetuity, in an adoption. It is possible they exist, but I am unaware of them. Many agencies that work toward open adoptions also have post-placement care for the birth mothers. This is often reflected in the fees assessed for prospective adoptive parents. In much the same way that fair trade goods cost more than plantation and sweat shop produced goods, so too does the cost of ethical adoption rise. If one is promised an adopted child for $2,000 something is terribly wrong. Similarly if the agency makes no mention of the first parents, or they sound too good to be true but you can't contact them, hit the brakes and do some research. A good non-profit agency will be willing, if not happy, to disclose where the money comes from and where it goes.

6. If the contract is legally binding, what happens to the adoptive parents if they don’t follow through? Is there really any legal recourse for both parties that are clearly spelled out?

No. There is no protection. There is no contract. There is no recourse. Instead, there is trust. An open adoption functions solely on the basis of trust. From there a relationship grows which, hopefully, will include mutual respect, honor, and affection. An open adoption doesn't promise anything. What it does is provide an opportunity. Through open adoption there is the opportunity for relationship.

7. What deters the birth parents from coming to your house unannounced?

Why would I show up to someone's house unannounced? Is it a terrible problem for a friend to arrive unannounced to your home? Or is the assumption that we are pariah? Again, this is about relationships. If people are showing up to your house unannounced with frequency and it troubles you ask them to stop. If they don't it may be time to reassess the relationship and how best to express boundaries.

8. Do you know if there are any court cases where it’s obvious that there are loopholes in Open Adoption that need to be addressed?

There aren't legal loopholes in open adoptions. There are giant gaping swathes of nothing. No contracts, no laws, no recourse, no promises. Open adoptions do not open the doors for birth families to suddenly change their minds and fight for custody. Actually, there are fewer occurrences of contested custody and reversed decisions among those participating in open adoptions than closed ones.

9. Just like there are issues with closed adoptions and we have the outspoken activists’, etc., are there any Open Adoption opponents or vice versa that are working to be the voice for the birth mothers as well as the adoptive children and their best interests?

There are some significant advocates for open adoption out there. Among them are authors Mary Martin Mason and James (Jim) L Gritter. There's a significant number of bloggers actively engaged in open adoptions. These people remind me of Muhandis Ghandi's quote "be the change you wish to see in the world." They live advocacy because their lives are normal.

10. When is the adoptee old enough to choose if they want contact or not? What if they are the ones who want to break off ties with the bio parents?

This decision lies squarely with the adoptive family. The question is no different for adoptees than any other child deciding they don't want to have contact with a member of her/his extended family.

11. Are there any support groups/legal aids for birth mothers where they can get honest answers with their concerns for open adoptions?

We had a lot of success getting support through Catholic Social Services. There were quite a few support mechanisms for adoptive and birth families. Rather, for birth mothers. It is unfortunate but true that there is a disquieting lack of support and services aimed at birth fathers. Many of the support groups for birth mothers also accept birth fathers, but the culture of these groups often pushes men away.

From my own experience, I attended several support group meetings for birth parents. It was actually a group of first mothers, who the social worker felt it necessary to ask if they would be comfortable if a man were to attend. Instead of engaging in productive relational/emotional work I instead spent the entire time fielding and dodging questions about why the men in these womens' lives behaved the way they did. Instead of bringing the voice of a man I was expected to be the voice of every man. I went twice. Later I attended the agency's BirthMother's Day celebration. Upon learning there would be no BirthFather's Day celebration I disengaged from that community entirely.

O.A.R. Seven "Ignorant" Questions

Better late than never. This has been sitting as a post to be finished for quite some time. It seems there's been something of a fire lit under me today so I thought I'd finish it off and post it. For your reading pleasure, my answers to seven questions asked of the Open Adoption Roundtable bloggers.

1. If open adoption is so great, why do so many people suck at it? By this I mean, not honouring commitments, closing the adoption, telling the other family they’re not “doing this thing” correctly or playing the “for the sake of the child” card?

There is a very simple reason some people suck at open adoption: integrity. To function an Open Adoption requires a lot of integrity on everyone's part. The biggest expression of that, in my experience so far, is in the form of honesty. Many people aren't very skilled at being honest, be with with others or with themselves. When entering an extra-familial open adoption the participants must decide whether or not to trust each other. Let me say that again. In the average open adoption all people involved make the decision to trust one another or make the decision not to trust one another. It is a willful decision. There simply isn't enough time in most open adoptions to build enough trust. A leap of faith is being made by everyone involved. The only other option is a disingenuous foundation that, if continued, will doom the relationship.

2. From the standpoint of first parents, open adoption sounds like something that could prolong suffering. Could this suffering potentially outweigh the good of knowing where your child is? Who helps the first parent?

I'll answer the last part of this question first. Who helps the first parent? The typical answer is a sad one. No one. In broad terms most first parents are taken for granted and very often taken advantage of. Help doesn't come easily and rarely comes willingly. The stigma of adoption alone is enough to drive most would-be supporters away. For those interested in sticking around most disengage after a few months. The intensity of the pre-adoption is experience is difficult to believe, even for those who have already been through it. Agencies and support groups exist to provide resources for some, but these are often the exclusive domain of first mothers and very frequently only available when still pregnant. Post adoption support services are very, very rare.

The truth is an open adoption can prolong confusion and suffering when roles and boundaries become muddled. The confusion of developing what role "first parent" is going to take in a first parent's life can be profound and emotionally paralyzing. When handled well the cost is greatly outweighed by the benefits. A first father can know with certainty that his child is happy. A first mother can see her son or daughter smile, laugh, and play. The knowledge, rather than the guess, that the decision to place for adoption was a good one that resulted in healthy relationships is the best aid I can imagine for the healing process a first parent goes through. In my case confusion, hurt, fear, and ambivalence disappear when my son smiles and waves at me.

3. I’m guessing kids are not hung up on how many relatives they have. Tell me that the thing that hangs up the public all the time about open adoption and other unconventional relationships—two mommies, two daddies, three, four, parents—is the least of your worries because it seems to me it is.

As a first parent, even considering adoption marks one with a bigger stigma than being part of a non-traditional family. After being told, in as many words, that I am evil I no longer put much stock in the general population's opinion of status quo.

4. Do you ever feel like you should give this child back? Does the thought ever seize you totally as you watch your child with her bio-family: “ooops?” (OR for f-parents: Do you ever feel as though you need to take this child back? That nothing is stopping you beside an agreement that feels false? Does that feeling go away?)

I have never had the feelings you describe here. I have mourned that I made the decision I did. I have mourned the loss of my worldview, self definition, perceived control of my life, and many other aspects of living as part of the adoption process. I have mourned that I was in a position that made those losses and decisions necessary. I have never wished to take my son from his mother and father. They are his parents. There is no grey area there. Athena and I are his first family, and here I'll explain why I use that term. We cared for Festus with every resource we could pour into his well being and development for as long as we could. For eight months (we discovered Athena was pregnant at four weeks) our lives revolved entirely around making him the healthiest and happiest baby we could. We continue in that commitment, as his first family, but we are not his primary family. We cared for him first chronologically, and we cared for him with absolutely everything we could. At the end of those eight months, after his birth, we were absolutely desolate. There were no resources left. Professor Plum and Ms Scarlet's arrival at the birth center was, in part, like the cavalry riding over the hill to win the day.

5. How do children ever cope with knowing they could not be kept? When they see their natural parents having more kids, what do they think? Who helps the child in this situation? Both sets of parents?

There are too many assumptions in this question for me to take it entirely seriously. Instead I'll point out the assumptions being made and why they should be called into question. First is the notion that a child must cope with being placed in a loving, well resourced household. Plenty of people I know are adopted and many more raised by their grandparents without significant thought on how hard it is to live in a world where poverty can effect people's lives. When was the last time you lamented the fact that you're so poor you had to work for a living? Is it terribly tragic, or simply your life?

Do first families continue on to have more children? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It shouldn't be assumed that the first family will go on to have more children and the choice to place for adoption was a question money or emotional retardation alone. Pardon my cursing, but frankly birth parent's aren't universally the emotionally stunted fuck ups we're portrayed to be in daytime television. Frequently they're simply victims of statistics. A sexually healthy relationship between two adults commonly results in sex between two and three times a week for people in their late teens to mid twenties. If it's a committed relationship that will result in roughly 130 couplings per year. A condom with 99% efficacy means there's a statistically supportable argument that couple has had one child and is gestating a second within one year's time. It is improbable, but statistically viable.

6. Can you say comfortably that some surrendering mothers could not cope with an open adoption or do you think that it should always be the standard?

As in question number one it's all a question of the individuals involved. There is no standard open adoption. That's why it can work. The experience being discussed here is so intense and personal it must reflect the individuals and have the ability to grow as they do. If anything I believe the very idea of a "standard adoption" should be abolished. We're talking about families being created. Each and every one needs to be understood and handled as a unique case with singular needs.

7. Is there ever a reason (aside from extreme/illegal behaviours) to close an adoption totally?

This question reminds of why I hate it when people ask me if there is ever a justifiable reason to take a human life. Of course there is. I'm truly excellent at creating the worst case scenario which can justify all sorts of behavior. I think of it as something of a chess game I play against myself. A sort of testing of ethical waterproofing so to speak. Is it worth talking about what these factors may be? In my opinion, not really. I can come up with good reasons for Professor Plum and Ms Scarlett to cut off all contact with me until I'm blue in the face but it won't mean anything. It would all be conjecture and fantasy with no actual substance. Drugs, sex, lies, theft, mental/emotional/spiritual abuse, and wearing the wrong colour neck tie are all immaterial until they carry the weight of a real life situation with all the intricacies and realities therein.

Open Adoption Roundtable #18

The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It's designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community. You don't need to be part of the Open Adoption Bloggers list to participate, or even be in a traditional open adoption. If you're thinking about openness in adoption, you have a place at the table. The prompts are meant to be starting points--feel free to adapt or expand on them.

More of the Roundtable

We each interacted with at least one professional during the adoption process (agency, lawyer, facilitator, consultant, hospital social worker, etc.). What was one thing that they did that was most supportive of open adoption? What one thing was least supportive?

Strangely I thought this would be difficult to write about until I spoke with Athena about it. In our conversation we came to realize that we didn't encounter much direct opposition. In truth we didn't encounter any direct opposition from any of the professionals we encountered. Oddly the person who was most directly supportive of adoption was also the least professional person we encountered. That was the pregnancy counseling center woman (the full account is here). But it feels like a terrible cop out to simply put up a link to an old post and say "there it is." However I can't ignore the role that woman had in my experience of Athena's pregnancy and our decision to make an adoption plan. Instead I'll take a different tack and talk about two pairs of people. The two negative experiences we had with professionals and the two most positive experiences we had.

The woman at the pregnancy center was hugely supportive of adoption. She frequently referred to it as "the bravest," "most courageous," "most loving" choice. She was also, flat out, the least supportive of us as human beings. She did, after all, threaten that Athena would die of breast cancer if she had an abortion.

The close second in "least supportive professional" category goes to the obstetric gynecologist at the hospital. The full account of this can be found here. I honestly don't know how much of her terrible bedside manner was related to our adoption plan. It's possible she's just not very good with humans. Early in the visit she mentioned there was a note in Athena's file indicating we were considering adoption. She asked us if that was correct and we confirmed it was. The reason she hits number two on the list is how she ended the appointment. For the most part it could have been brushed off as a bad doctor's appointment and left at that. Until she left the room. Just before closing the door she uttered the one word we couldn't bear to hear. "Congratulation." Here I'll quote from my earlier post because I don't think I can do justice to how I felt hearing that word right now. 

" She had slipped out the door before I could react. I wanted to grab her by her highlights and pull her down to a chair. I wanted to lecture her about the gross insensitivity she'd displayed. I wanted to grab her by the head and shake it until she understood. We didn't plan this. We don't want this. We shouldn't be here! But we're dealing with it. We're being responsible. It's taking everything we have to put one foot in front of the other and survive but we're doing it! This is so hard that I lock myself in the hardware room at work to cry, but I'm still here! Every day takes everything we have but we got to this appointment. We even put up with being treated like cattle on a conveyor. We're trying so hard to do the right thing! "Congratulations." One word and it felt like every sacrifice we'd made had been spat upon. I wanted to breathe fire and melt the building down to glass. "Congratulations" meant this shouldn't be hard. It meant we shouldn't make the adoption plan. "Congratulations" meant we should choose to parent and give up everything we want for each other. "Congratulations" meant she was too busy to attempt understanding us or any situation she'd not found herself in personally. "Congratulations" meant we were too alien to matter."

Those were the bad parts.

Now that catharsis is out of the way let's move on to something sunnier. There were a lot of good experiences with professionals during the creation of our adoption plan. The single most supportive person I encountered was Julie, our adoption social worker at Catholic Social Services. Julie was incredible. She lent us every book she had to read about open adoption. Actually she was the one who introduced us to the idea of open adoption. Neither of us had heard of it before. We were still thinking of closed adoption days where we'd have to negotiate if we wanted to see our boy immediately after birth, let alone after placement! Julie consistently affirmed the difficulty of the work we were doing and reminded us over and over again that this was just a plan. We could change everything at any time. The most important thing was to be honest with ourselves and each other. There wasn't one thing she did. It was everything Julie did.

With an eye at symmetry it only seems right that I should mention another positive professional interaction. This one caught me by surprise. Athena and I went to the hospital for her ultrasound. I believe it was the six month check. We had been preparing myself for a terribly emotional experience. I wasn't sure if I could even be in the room. I promised Athena I would try. Imagine my surprise when the ultrasound tech had us both laughing within minutes of entering the room! We were there for about half an hour chatting away. That was a very important moment for me. Not only did the ultrasound give me the chance to see the Visitor in a new way, but the tech gave me the chance to see the pregnancy in a new way. In observing his approach to us I began to understand much more about the apparent dichotomy we were in. Pregnancy was funny and scary. It was lovely and terrible. It was joyous and horribly sad. It both connected us to life and isolated us. Most importantly all of this was okay. All of it was normal. The Visitor was rolling and tumbling and showing off for us for a solid twenty five minutes. The tech had taken over 100 images. He sifted through and selected the best 30, printed them for us, and headed for the door. Just before leaving he said something that surprised me. "Good luck."  

Open Adoption Roundtable #17

The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It's designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community. You don't need to be part of the Open Adoption Bloggers list to participate, or even be in a traditional open adoption. If you're thinking about openness in adoption, you have a place at the table. The prompts are meant to be starting points--feel free to adapt or expand on them.

More of the Roundtable

I'm new to the roundtable notion, but here goes nothing:

The question at hand, courtesy of Susiebook, is what I wouldn't like to tell the other members of my adoption triad? Or what would I rather not know about them?

Unfortunately this is just a wee bit awkward as a fellow member of my adoption triad is also a blogger. However I think I can honestly answer the question without saying everything that I'm trying to keep private. In short I'll be talking around what I'd rather they not know.

Honestly there's only one thing that comes to mind when pondering this question. I consider my family. I don't want the other triad members to know how the adoption plan and current adoption relationship effected the relationships I have with my immediate family. I won't get into the gory details in part because I don't remember enough of them to be accurate. Here's the basics:

Be sure to keep in mind this is a reductum absurdum.

My family never spent much time listening to me. It wasn't until my brothers (I'm the youngest of three) moved out of the house/state together that I had much of a voice. My parents said they never felt like they got a chance to know me before that happened. I was 17 at the time. By most accounts they were a bit late. Remembering that I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that no one believed me when I consistently affirmed my desire never to parent.  Needless to say they were dumbfounded when Athena and I told them we were looking into adoption for Festus.

The following nine months were the most tumultuous of my life. Unfortunately Athena was already six weeks pregnant at that time. It wasn't the pregnancy that was difficult. It was my family. Both my brothers and parents did their best to support us through the process. That meant pretending nothing was going on. It became clear our conversations and actions weren't being taken at face value shortly after Festus was born and went home with Ms Scarlet and Prof Plum. My family chose that as the appropriate time to ask why Festus hadn't been placed with one of my brothers.

I'm already getting more specific than I meant to. The point being my relationships with my family will never be the same. There has been a lot of healing in the pursuant year, but they'll never be the same. The unbridled confidence in the trust and support of my family is gone. I love them. I'm enjoying spending time with them again. They are not the comrades I thought they were. They don't "have my back" as it were.

That's what I don't want my triad to know. I don't want them to know the growth I underwent in the adoption rent me away from my family. I don't want them to know how lonely I feel. I don't want them to know the sense of hurt, disgust, and bewilderment I carry. I don't want them to know because secretly I want my triad to like my family. If my triad likes my family then maybe I got it all wrong. I want to be wrong about them. I want the last two years to be a series of misunderstandings and miscommunications gone horribly wrong. If I'm wrong they didn't hurt me and they didn't ignore me. If I'm wrong they listened to me.

More of the Roundtable