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

"How Could She. . ."

I've heard the question "how could she do that?" more than I care to. It never fails to impress upon me how certain many people are that their ideology is the right one. Because they've never found themselves in a position to seriously consider adoption they "could never do that" and "can't imagine how a person could do something like that." I think my favorite is "something has to be wrong with you to abandon your own flesh and blood." I often overhear these things said before people know I'm a firstfather.  I'm directly told these things after I've informed them.

The prejudice runs deep. So deep it's considered okay to tell someone they're inherently broken, nigh inhuman, because s/he made a difficult choice. James Gritter has once again addressed these attitudes in a book. I haven't read it myself, though it's now on the list. Fellow blogger Luna reviewed the book and answered a pair of questions about her experience here.

"As Gritter points out, the more compassionate query is what dire circumstances led to such a difficult and life altering decision (p27). Gritter suggests the question 'How could you…' may only be appropriate when posed by an adoptee. 'A question from his soul deserves an answer from hers,” he writes, even though it is “an experience for which there is no adequate language' (p31)." - shamelessly stolen from Luna.


I love that turn of phrase Gritter suggests. "What dire circumstances. . ." It cuts to the quick of things very well. Most often that's exactly the case. Pregnancy occurs surrounded by chaos and a time-limited inability to parent. But here is where the standard version and my story diverge, yet again. I could parent. I don't know how all the details would have worked out but I could have made it work. I chose not to.


My earliest memories of my projected future in childhood involved parenting. In kindergarten I imagined growing up a raising a family much like my own. In second grade I replaced my future career of psychology for my father's in the pastorate. By the age of eight I had changed my mind. I didn't want a family with children. I didn't want to raise children. I couldn't imagine being responsible for another person's life. In the years following my attitude toward parenting has changed a little but not enough to convince me that it's an endeavor I want to participate in. That's the truth of it.


I don't want to parent. I've never been able to integrate it into my sense of self despite years of being told to do so. Much like trying to talk a man into being a woman it just didn't work. It's either there or it isn't. While varying shades of grey exist I don't believe it can be significantly altered nor fabricated. That is why, for as long as my sense of self has been tied to my own experience, I have no identified as a father figure.


I consider myself extremely fortunate that Athena feels the same way. Even more so I'm lucky that both of us were being honest in discussing children before her pregnancy. Our "dire circumstances" were being in a situation neither of us wanted to be, ever.




I think that's all for today.

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Disclosure:

This post is probably a bit scattered and almost certainly rather negative. Life circumstances are pushing me around a bit and my stress is on the rise. Car trouble is teaming up with low funds to make for a less than joyous week. Hopefully you'll find me in better spirits next week. Until then I hope you have a sunny and relaxing weekend. Good luck to you all and be gentle with each other. It can be a tough world. No need to make it any harder.

A Great Visit

When first making the adoption plan for Festus with Ms Scarlet and Prof. Plum the question of how often to visit came up. Pretty quickly we settled on getting together once a month and an incidental contact that may happen in between was a bonus. Athena and I figured that we would want to see Ms Scarlet and Prof. Plum that often just to get a chance to have some kind of relationship with them before the actual placement. We never scheduled a regular time in the month for us to get together. We're all busy people and Prof. Plum has to travel a fair amount for his job. Similarly, in the regular school year, I have to work weekends sporadically so establishing the third Friday of every month just wasn't practical. It's worked out quite well. I don't think we've missed a month yet and the visits have continued to become more and more casual. Then came our visit at the beginning of June.

The wine, in truth, wasn't entirely to my taste. It was a little more acidic than I'm used to, which is strange for a lover of Chilean wines to say. That's the only negative thing I can say. It was a wonderful evening. Athena and I had the chance to see Festus crawl for the first time! He had been crawling for a while, we simply hadn't seen him do it before. He was very happy to show off this new accomplishment for us. Festus was quite the little showman that afternoon playing his musical instruments and grunting excitedly. For the first time in a couple months he seemed happy to spend some time interacting directly with Athena. The previous two visits he wasn't too happy about sitting with anyone who wasn't mom or dad. His coy glances made while chewing safely on Ms Scarlet's shoulder were very cute, but not as satisfying as the toothy (all four of them) grins we got this time.

But the best part was talking with Prof Plum and Ms Scarlet. There was, naturally, a fair amount of chatting about Festus and his latest fascinations. Some of the best conversation that evening, however, was about life in general. It felt less like an agreed upon child visitation and more like two couples getting together for dinner. I can report happily that we, all four of us, enjoy each others' company. Are we to the point where we call each other to make spurt of the moment plans to catch dinner? No. Do I think it's possible to get there? Yes.

It feels like the "hard work" of spending time with each other is really paying off. The awkwardness of the first getting-to-know-you conversations is melting away leaving friendship in its stead. Little by little, brick by brick, minute by minute, we're building a friendship of peers. We're building a family.

Regular Life

This post is a bit of a departure. I'm going to talk a bit more about my daily experience. Normal life stuff that isn't directly connected with my son, my identity as a birthfather, nor the adoption process. If you're not interested in that I suggest skipping down past the break where I'll write a bit about my first fathers' day as a birthfather.

I can now report that the days leading up to Fathers' Day were the most difficult I had to deal with this week. That is, however, not entirely for apparent reasons. There's been a lot of tumult in my life these days. My health has been flagging for a while as I've been combating an infected wisdom tooth for a little over a month now. I haven't been able to work in that time which means no money has been coming in. Similarly I haven't been getting out of the apartment much at all so the only social contact I've had is Athena. Don't get me wrong. I love spending time with her! But it's important to see other humans too. Reading other authors' blogs has helped assuage that a bit but as we all can recognize it isn't the same as a face to face conversation with a good friend.

As a result of not getting out and seeing people, having my daily routine demolished, I've lost a sense of grounding. As Athena put it, "all the cues you normally use to tell yourself that you're fine and life is okay aren't there." Very astute of her to point that out. So I've been feeling emotionally chaotic. It is typical that when I lose a sense of routine and regular little doses of accomplishment (I just built a wall, a bike, a 30' pile of stage-ready rubble) I tend to focus on the negative and dreary side of things. That really came out this week and relates to future plans for the blog here, which is why I mention it.

I've decided that I need to get more regular into my regular life and less digital. So I'm going to be reducing my posting schedule a bit. I've been trying to get something up every day and succeeding in posting at least every other day. I'm going to be stepping to something more like two to four posts per week. There will be a new balancing act going on for me as I attempt to integrate writing regularly about adoption into my normal routines, which presently have been completely supplanted by blogging. Another change you may notice is more focus on the contemporary. So far I've written mostly about the pregnancy and a few examples of the extremely difficult experiences Athena and I had during that time. That was very cathartic. It will continue to be a regular subject but I'll be adding the contemporary experience. The adoption process was a very difficult one, but also extremely successful! Athena and I are quite happy with our decision and have great relationships with Ms Scarlet, Prof Plum, and Festus. In the future I'm going to try to present a more balanced view of what adoption actually means to my daily experience. The subjects I've written about here to date have been very important. It's not surprising to me that I chose to write about what I did. Those were some of the most troubling experiences I had during Athena's pregnancy. In a Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs sort of way it makes sense. I had to get the most pressing issues of my chest first. Now I feel better prepared to move on and proclaim there is light at the end of the tunnel. Because it is true that things get better. My life was never harder than when making an adoption plan. Similarly I've never felt better in who I am than as a birthfather.

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I was worried for several days. Not knowing how I would experience Fathers' Day was a bit nerve racking. This was my first Fathers' Day as a birthfather. I went on a tear of reading about adoption and infertility. A part of me I couldn't admit to believed that if I became well informed and well adjusted enough in my understanding of adoption I could avoid any pain Fathers' Day would bring. So I kept reading. I was digging through everything I could find on the experience of adult adoptees and the reckoning that comes with infertility. But there was something that drove me more than wanting to avoid pain this weekend. As I read page after page of anger, hurt, and confusion something kept tugging at me. There was one thought that kept popping up; "don't let him feel this way." I kept reading. I kept going again and again to these archives of rage, pain, and poisonous revulsion. If I read enough I could understand. If I understood thoroughly enough maybe I could empathize with Festus. Maybe he wouldn't have to feel this angry and hurt. If I became an expert on everything related to adoption I could rationalize and explain away every iota of hurt and confusion. Maybe if I knew enough he wouldn't have to hate me.

That was a very difficult idea for me to admit to myself. I was three days deep in my research before I was so upset that I had to look it in the face. It took a long conversation with Athena before I could bring that to the surface. But there was a big surprise in store for me later.

The next morning I awoke feeling better than I had in a week. Athena and I spent a long day relaxing and enjoying each others' company. We purchased a card for her father. Athena also bought a small journal for me to use as a wine journal for Birthfathers' Day. On Sunday morning we planned to make a day trip to her parents' house to celebrate Fathers' Day. First thing that morning I asked Athena what she wanted for breakfast. "Just eggs, I want to leave in the morning." I chose to exercise "dad's prerogative" and made pancakes too. It was a beautiful day. We drove to Athena's parents' house and hung about. We spent time stretching on the carpet, playing in the garden, getting chair massages (her mom is a massage therapist and is learning some new techniques) and eating a fantastic dinner. It was a wonderful day. All except for the drive home, which construction doubled in length.

My closing thoughts on Fathers' Day; Festus will be as he will be. He will love me as he can, and be just as surly as any other adolescent boy. He'll be frustrated by me "not getting it" both when it is and isn't appropriate. There will be many things in common with my own experience. There will also be new challenges that I have made the choice to face. I don't know what they'll be. There isn't much out there about the experience of adoptees who grow up in open adoptions. We're making it up as we go. Today, as a father of sorts, I'm okay with that.

Fathers' Day

I may reflect more on my experience of Fathers' Day later. That's not what this post is about. As, no doubt, many of you are aware the Saturday before Mothers' Day has been declare (if unofficially) Birthmothers' Day, I thought I'd personally call for today to be Birthfathers' day.  The Birthmothers' Day celebration this year was an exceptional event. Our local branch of Catholic Social Services did a really nice job commemorating the joy, loss, and general intensity of Birthmotherhood as reflected in the mirror of a traditional Mothers' Day celebration. It was complete with fruit cocktail and unappetizing bagels. I'd like to mark today as special for recognizing the joy, loss, and intensity of Birthfatherhood.

Honoring Birthfathers Today

Make a call. Send a text message. Write an e-mail. Post a card.

Tell a birthfather you appreciate him.

But please, don't say "congratulations" or "happy" unless you know it will be well received. This is going to be a difficult weekend for many men. I recommend the terms honor, celebrate, recognize, and appreciate instead.