RI May Unseal Records

Apparently the RI state legislature has, in the past, voted on bills to give adult adoptees access to their sealed records. According to the P.rovidence J.ournal, the bills pass the House, but not the Senate. Currently there is a possible compromise in the works that may pass both chambers, and allow adult adoptees over the age of 30 to obtain their records.

Hmm.

First of all, as a member of an open adoption triad, I am obviously in favor of the free flow of information, especially for the adoptee. I do recognize, however, that the level of openness my adoption family has been able to achieve is not always possible. I understand the many valid reasons why some adoptions are closed, or at least not fully open. I'm not sure if those circumstances extend to the adoptee's right to know their info as an adult. What I mean is, I get why some birthfamilies can't have visits with the adoptee; but what does that have to do with the adoptee just plain KNOWING their own info once they are grown?

The opponents of unsealing the records all claim to be advocating for birthmoms' privacy rights. I was pretty shocked to read this. Again, mine has always been an open adoption, but I can promise you, no one seemed concerned with my privacy post placement, or even brought the subject up when I was pregnant, before the openness had begun. The whole argument of someone worrying about my privacy 18 years post placement makes me laugh out loud. This argument is a big giant PC bullshit argument.

So what is the real reason some people want to deny adoptees access to their information? I saw one tiny little quote that mentioned adoptive parents' privacy and feelings, and I think this is where the truth is: not to sound harsh, but adoptive parents do seem to sometimes be the most considered, the most protected members of the triad. (APs, call me out on this one if I'm wrong.)

One comment really burned me up. A member of the assembly spoke in reference to the age at which adoptees deserve to know their info: "I think 18 is too young. It's a tender age. I want them to be able to find their records in an appropriate and meaningful way, not because they want to get back at their adoptive parents." Um, huh? Wha? Well, thank you, Mr. Member, but it's not up to you to decide why an adoptee wants their info, or what kind of experience it will be. Talk about controlling! The issue is centered around their rights, not their feelings, or their parents' feelings, or whether or not it is "meaningful".

Another very bizarre quote was in reference to birthmoms. One lawyer said, "The parent that gives up her rights, they're in a sense making a contract with someone. That contract is essentially: I am going to give you an opportunity for another life, but I am going to back away from your life. And that's the last thing I'm doing for you or with you." Wow, that's not what I said to Colin, thankfully. I am kind of a naive type of person, and this kind of jibberish blows my mind. I really thought we were past this kind of old school thinking. Also, even if that quote were universally true, what in the world does it have to do with the adoptee getting to see their records 18 years later?! I really, truly do not understand.

To me, it's a no brainer. The info is theirs. Apparently many many people are threatened by the possiblity that they get to see it.

Adoptees had the least amount of control at the time of placement. When Colin was a newborn, it blew my mind that we were all setting a course for his life and he was unable to give us his input. (I know this is true for all newborns, adopted or not, but it feels especially heavy in adoptions.) How can people justify continuing to have control over them in this way?

FiveOneFour

It's 514!! My first born turns 13 today. He's a TEENAGER. Holy smokes.

Jeb picked out a Batman card for him. I talked to him on the phone for a while. Regular stuff.

I worked last night, so I got to look at the clock at 0159, the time he was born. It was very cool. I smiled to myself and remembered, and didn't feel the agony that this day used to bring me.

I'm so happy he's him; that he was born 13 years ago. I'm so happy for all the work we've done. I'm so happy to be happy this fivefourteen, and not sobbing on the floor. I'm so happy to be in a place of true celebration this birthday. It's like Grief is across the room at the party, and I gave him a wink, and then got back to smiling and chatting.

Happy Birthday, my boy, I love you so freaking much.

Inspired by Production not Reproduction

Oh, man, you know when you read a blog post and you didn't realize you had so much to say until you read that post? I love when this happens; I love a good spring board.

I just read Production not Reproduction 's post about things "I don't have to think about".

A few really hit home:

Today I don't have to think about how to answer the question "How many children do you have?" Ugh. I have gone through so many phases of comfort with this question. Way before I had Jeb, I was so new in my birthmotherhood that I proudly shouted that I had a child. I told anyone and everyone about open adoption, and about my son. Then, still before I had Jeb, I got a little more private, and would still talk about my experience when the conversation turned to birth (because I just couldn't deny the fact that I'd given birth), and used words/phrases like "not parenting", and "placed in an open adoption", and "future birth siblings", ect. Then, it got harder when I was pregnant with Jeb. Is this your first? "Um, kind of..." was the true-est answer I could come up with. Sometimes I would just say "yes, this is my first", and feel guilty, but you know what? The lady in the grocery store doesn't want to know the whole story. And she shouldn't have to be understanding of the fact that every flipping pregnant woman coming through her line might be sensitive to such a question! I always struggled with whether or not giving the "easy" answer would hurt Colin. I can handle most of the schmudge that is adoption, but I never wanted to "deny" him, my son, my blood, my love. And now--now that I don't have to 'fess up during talks of pregnancy and birth, since everyone I talk to knows I'm parenting Jeb, it's gotten slightly easier. But I'm still more private than I was back in those early days. Just this week Colin came up in conversation with someone who didn't know (it's so hard to remember who knows what, and I'm so comfortable with all of it that I occasionally reference Colin in conversation with people who don't know my story), and I had to explain. I struggled. Well, I didn't struggle in the typical sense, but sometimes I just want to stick a thumbdrive into people so they can get caught up and I don't have to answer the same stupid questions over and over and over; or smile and nod as they tell me how brave and wonderful I was. (And? When I realize someone is just learning that I am a birthmom, all I can think is "oh, here we go, dammit I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut!" Not because I don't want to talk about it, but most people are just so damned ANNOYING about it and DON'T GET IT. An I'm over the education part of this journey. For now, anyway.) This turned into a serious ramble, but the real answer is that it is always tricky to tell people how many kids I have. I want to maintain our collective privacy, without being dishonest, and without denying my son. /end rant.

*deep breath*

Today I don't have to think about a professional treating me differently when I answer their questions about pregnancies and number of children at home. Yes, yes, yes. Remember when I had that ridiculous cyst on my forehead? I accidentally got into an awkward convo with the friggin' dermatologist about my medical history. He was just taking a general history, and Jeb was on my lap, and he asked a very benign question "one child?", (see above), and I answered that no, I've had 2 sons, the other is 12 but I don't parent him. Um, DUH? The derm doesn't really need to know about my reproductive history, and more?!?!?! I didn't have to even bring up that I wasn't parenting!! I could have said that I also have a 12 year old, so as to stay honest on the medical front, but left it at that since he could have just been in school! I was so caught off guard, and for the rest of the appt, I felt weird. "not parenting" could also mean I was an asshole and my parents had to step in and take my kid because I wasn't doing a good job. Blah. This stuff happens more often than you'd think. Colin exists, I gave birth to him, it happened, so when someone asks something that brings him up in my mind, I don't/can't lie. It's not calculated, it's just what happens when someone asks you about something that's real.


Today I don't have to think about people using one of the most painful decisions of my life as ammunition in their debate over abortion. Holy shit, YES. I can't fucking stand the pro-lifers' argument "How about ADOPTION!!" Barf. I can understand many many of the arguments from the pro-life side. But telling women that adoption is such a fantastic, and easy thing to do? And you'll be an angel of life! And there are wonderfully attractive and morally upstanding and infertile couples out there! Don't you just want to make their dreams come true! They even have a nursery all.ready.to.go!!!! You are denying "good" couples from being parents if you abort!----Disgusting. I have zero regret. I am happy with my choice to carry a pregnancy and then place my baby. But that has nothing to do with ANYONE ELSE'S DECISION. I can't tell you how many people have used my decision to argue their pro life stance. And I'm pro choice!! I don't want to be anyone's poster child. Just because adoption was right for me doesn't mean it's right for anyone else. It's hard. And it sucks sometimes. Being pregnant knowing I wasn't going to parent s.u.c.k.e.d. I wouldn't suggest placing to anyone; it's got to come from within.


So, I'd like to close with a few of my own statements, in the same vein as Production's post, but from a different perspective.

Today I don't have to think about how Jeb's first mother is feeling.

Today I don't have to wonder from whom he got his big brown eyes.

Today I don't have to hear stupid remarks about who is Jeb's "real" mother.

Today I don't have to think about money, or time, or another woman, when I think about growing my family.

To this day, I have never had a Social Worker. I've never had to prove anything to anyone in order to be a mom.

Today, when Jeb had a fit, it didn't cross my mind that it could be something deeper. Whenever he has a hard time in the future I won't have to wonder if there is a sense of loss driving his behavior.


I know this has gotten long, but it was so terrific to see my perspective understood by another member of the triad. My goal is to understand, as much as possible, other members of the triad. Not only to help me understand Colin better, which is obviously my huge goal, but to understand his parents better and my husband's place in it all better, and Jeb's place in it better, and the list goes on.

T minus 15 hours.

This time tomorrow, it will be October. October 2010 is a month I've looked forward to for a decade, even before I could name the month. It's the month we are going to try. We are going to try to do something that has happened on "accident" to me 3 times. We are going to try to get pregnant. On purpose. Like, unprotected sex, during the "dangerous" time. We are going to hope my period doesn't come. We are going to smile whenever (God willing) we get a positive HPT, instead of, well, cry like I have the last 3 times.

I have been looking forward to this since about 10 minutes after Colin went to his forever home. This itch wasn't cured by my pregnancy/birth/motherhood to Jeb. Jeb was a pleasant surprise, and so when I was pregnant with him, I had a really really hard time shaking the identity of the pregnant teen. Bennett would say to me at times You know, Patti, you're not 17 anymore. This is really OK. No one is mad at you. I knew it, but I didn't know it.

So, I've fantasized about this time, about this month. In my fantasy I have zero fear or ambivalence, only a long awaited sense of right-ness, of correct-ness.

In reality I am terrified. I am so freaked out. I am excited, but nervous, and ready to back out at any minute. I started feeling like this about a month ago, and actually hoped I'd get pregnant on "accident" last month so that I wouldn't have to really actually make this decision.

Imagine my shock and horror at how I am feeling about this! I have been so disappointed in myself! Here I am, 30 years old, and FINALLY at the exact moment that I have been dreaming about for YEARS! What the fuck is wrong with me?

And then? The flood:

Am I ready for this?
Will I ever be ready for this?
Well, the kids will already be almost 4 years apart and I know I want more than 1 and I'll be 31 next year so I'd better just do it already.
Do I really want more than 1?
How can I meet the needs of 2 when I already doubt myself with 1?!
What if it takes a long time?
What if I miscarry, I am 30 after all, and many of my friends have experienced m/c.
What if I have post partum anxiety again?
What if I NEVER SLEEP AGAIN?
Am I ready to nurse 24/7 again?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I'm just thinking about growing my family, that's not so weird.
Maybe something is wrong with me.
What if I am not a good enough mother to have 2.
Have I proven myself good enough to have another?

Ok, this might sound really stupid, but I never expected any birthmother-y shit to come up. Now, I'm smacking myself in the head---- Um, PATTI! How did I not expect giving BIRTH again and becoming a MOTHER again not to bring up any BIRTHMOTHER stuff? Duh.

So there you have it. Motherhood will forever be intertwined with feelings and anxieties over being worthy/deserving/good enough for children in a more intense way than people outside the triad. Of course every mother should strive to be a terrific mother, but in my world? It's been more literal. Colin's parents had to prove to a shit load of people that they were worthy/deserving/good enough. When I was pregnant with Jeb, I had these weird feelings like I had to prove to someone that it was OK that I kept him. I would have dreams that I had to ask Colin's mother's permission to NOT give this one to her. Even now, day to day, I am constantly looking for signs that I am doing well with Jeb, or signs that I am a total failure. (this drives batshit crazy, btw). So now that I'm going to do this on PURPOSE? Well, I feel this enormous amount of pressure to come up with a very concrete and objective report to hand in to someone so the can stamp "APPROVED" on my paperwork. And the 17 year old in me would nod, and put my head down and accept it if that stamp came back "REJECTED".

Yay. There is no pretty bow with which to tie up this post. It's been floating around in my gut, and I just had to vomit it. That's all I have to say about that (for now).

TPR too early.

(Warning: a good bit of F bombs are dropped. I couldn't help it.)

It's been a while since I've written anything of substance. My work schedule sucked for the last week, and before that I was just plain hot and tired. I'm now on a mini vacay, and had lots of things I wanted to post about, just for my own record. This summer has been awesome, and I want to have as many memories recorded as possible.

And then, I read about a potential adoption and TPR "hopefully happening this weekend before discharge". This was written before the baby was even BORN.

I'd heard about TPR being signed in the hospital before, maybe 10+ years ago, and it seemed so barbaric, I was sure it had been done away with.

I am birthmother who was VERY confident and OK with her decision, so there's not terribly much I get up in arms about wrt adoption. I feel like I can appreciate each side, even though I've only lived 1 side.

I can hope to understand an adoptee's sense of loss, and I can hope to understand an adopter's sense of longing, and I try to only LISTEN when those members speak.

HOW CAN NO ONE SEE THAT ASKING A WOMAN TO SIGN TPR 2 DAYS AFTER GIVING BIRTH IS JUST WRONG?

First, the hormonal TSUNAMI going on is reason alone not to make such an enormous decision!!! Let me say that again: 2 fucking days after giving birth? You are in a HORMONAL TSUNAMI. Remember those days of infertility drugs? Times that by about a million.

And what? Better get those papers signed before she changes her mind? UM! HELLO! And what? If she changes her mind a week later but the papers are already signed, what? We all do a collective "PHEW!" and pat ourselves on the back for "saving" her baby? Or worse, keeping the adoptive parents money? UN-FUCKING-ETHICAL. I'm going to say something radical: BIRTHMOM NEEDS THE TIME AND THE OPTION TO CHANGE HER MIND. SHE IS NOT A BIRTHMOM AT THE MOMENT OF BIRTH.

Thank God, I placed in Rhode Island. (A state that doesn't do much of anything right, imo, but does this right) According to RI law, I couldn't sign TPR until at least 30 days post birth. Colin's parents could take him, or if they were nervous about the risk and didn't want to take him until after, that was an option. I know the surface argument is about attachment and bonding and limbo, and they are all valid. Attachment, bonding, and aparents living in limbo are all very important things. But those things can still be accomplished and rectified while still giving the birthmom more than 2 damn days. I cannot fucking imagine sitting in a hospital bed, recovering from birth, bleeding, dripping milk, hormonal, vulnerable, not in my own environment, possibly completely ALONE, and having a fucking LAWYER give me papers and STAND over my hospital bed, while I don't even have actual CLOTHES on and ask me to make an irreversible decision about my baby.

UNETHICAL.


TPR should be final, but not premature. I'm not advocating for the loosey-goosey laws that allow birthparents to fight for toddlers and destroy families. I'm talking about respect, and a reasonable amount of time so as to empower birth mothers. When I signed, I did not feel taken advantage of, I felt proactive, I felt like I was mindful and aware.

What? Are agencies too terrified that too many potential birth mothers will not place? Well shame on them.

Asking a woman to sign TPR in the hospital feels like Baby Stealing.

I'd love to hear any thoughts on this, as it is clearly my most trigger-y adoption issue.

There should be a secret handshake.

Next door to me lives a family with a 2 year old. The boy joined their family through adoption, which is obvious because it's a transracial adoption. I only mention this because adoption has never come up in conversation, but I know he's adopted. They are super nice, and we run into each other often because we are always out playing in the yard. We frequently make the nice neighbor small talk, and talk about the boys who get along great. We only moved here in September, and our relationship is still very much an "acquaintanceship" and not quiet "friendship". I really like them, and really hope that we get closer and maybe become good friends, but it takes time. I'm rambling. Anyway, I outed my birthmotherhood to Mrs. Neighbor this week. I'd always wanted to share with them that I'm a member of the triad, too, but I was waiting for the right moment, kwim? So the other day the boys were running through the sprinkler together and we were chatting, and I kind of just blurted out "I'm a birthmother, I have a 12 year old as well, and we have an open adoption". Well, then it got kind of awkward. Mrs. Neighbor was super nice, as always, and said some nice things about open adoption (theirs is not open), and then it was quiet and then the subject changed. I was feeling sheepish, and suddenly started questioning myself why have I wanted to share this with her so badly?! What an idiot I am! But really, I wanted to tell her so badly because they are such a great family and I am so thrilled for them and I wanted them to know that I'm cool and and and.... I don't know. In my fantasy, we would hold hands and jump and laugh and talk about how much we love our kids and she would be so happy to live next door to someone who "gets it" about adoption.

I feel like such a dork.

There should be a special wink, or nod, or handshake so as to avoid awkward "outings".

A regular kind of moment in an Open Adoption.

Jeb recently came across a photo of Colin and me and asked:
"What this?"
Me: "That's Colin and mama"
Jeb: "My big brother?"
Me: "Yes, your big brother."
Jeb: "I want him. I want see him."
Me: "We'll see him in a few weeks."
Jeb: "I want see him right now."
Me: " Me too, baby, me too."

My Labor Day

My Labor Day comes in May, not September.

Tomorrow my first born turns 12.

12 years ago tonight, at 0100, my water broke. I spent the entire day in labor, and gave birth in the wee hours on the 14th.

May 14 rolls around in my head almost constantly. At least 3 times per week, I look at the clock at 5:14. It's really weird, but it happens all.the.time. 514. fiveonefour. fivefourteen. oh five one four. may fourteen. May 14th. 5.14.98. May 14. May Fourteenth. It was my password for everything, for years.

BUT. May 13? That's my day. My Labor Day. That's the day I look at the clock and can tell you, at any given moment what was going on. In fact, I can tell you about the entire week. In my mind, it runs like an old film; really fast snap shots with no sound, or rather, like it's being narrated.

On the afternoon of May 11, at 39 weeks, I was running (trotting?) out to the car and tripped and fell FLAT on my belly. Everything was fine, but I always wonder if that's what lead to my water breaking less than 48 hours later.

On the afternoon of May 12 (it was a Tuesday), my boyfriend (not the birthdad) dropped me off after school and said "Call me when you go into labor tonight!" HAHAHA! We laughed!

At 0100, now Wednesday May 13, I woke up to go to the bathroom (again), stood up, and could not for the life of me figure out why I was peeing all over myself. OH! Maybe this is it! I sat on the toilet and dripped. And dripped. And hollered to my mom. She called the midwife who told me to get some rest. Oh, right, because it is so easy to sleep when you are 18 and about to give birth to a baby you will then not take home.

So, I did calculus homework. (I later asked my calc teacher for extra credit for doing homework in labor. He said no.)
I tossed and turned.
I was pretty unemotional; I was naive.
I called Colin's parents and they got ready for the drive.
I called my boyfriend in the morning; he had to go to school.
The principle said a prayer for me over the intercom.

Once the sun came up, I went to the midwife's office where ruptured membranes were confirmed, and mom and I were sent to the hospital. We got there late morning, and did the whole triage thing. I thought it was outrageous that I had to walk around dripping. I was settled into my L&D room around noon. Contractions were bearable. I was on complete auto pilot. The biggest emotion I can remember is being so excited for Colin's parents. I wanted them to get to me asap and enjoy this stuff.

I got an epidural around 3. I honest to God thought the anesthesiologist was joking when he told me I'd have to stay still during a contraction. It seemed impossible, but I shut my mouth and did it. I tried not to make any waves through any of it. There was already so much fuss and comotion over my pregnancy, I didn't want to be any more of a burden.

The afternoon dragged on. Boyfriend came to see me. We watched the Last Ever Episode of Seinfeld. Colin's parents were stuck in major traffic. Like, bumper to bumper for hours. A 3 hour drive took >7 hours that night. I felt so badly for them; I couldn't imagine the torture of sitting still on a highway while you are trying to get to your baby's birth.

I was declared ready-to-push at 10pm. Boyfriend held a leg, and mom held the other. I pushed, and nothing happened. At 11pm boyfriend had to leave, it was a school night after all. He passed Colin's parents in the hallway and they held each other and cried. Colin's mom, D, wiped my brow as I pushed. and pushed and pushed. Dad, G, waited in another room. I pushed for 4 hours. They put forceps on, and Colin was finally, mercifully born at 0159. "It's a boy! You have a son!", the Ob said to me; I appreciate that more now than I did then.

We all cried. He was so bruised. I had the hormone shakes, and remember thinking it was very metaphorical. I was being shaken into my new life. G&D held their son and looked at him like new parents do. You know that look. You can feel it on your own face when you look at your kids, esp when they are brandy-new.

Everyone went home, and we all got some sleep. Colin didn't room in with me, I didn't even think of it. Later that morning, I rang for the nurse and asked for my baby. I fully expected her to tell me "no", and I would have accepted that. I was surprised when she said "yes".

G&D came back and we began this whole Open Adoption Thing. They bought newspapers with the date, fivefourteen. We all held, changed, and loved this new baby. We each rubbed our cheeks on his, and tried to honor each others' feelings.

Friday May 15, everything came crashing down. Birthdad said he would not sign. G&D brought me their car seat so I could bring my son home. I considered changing his name to Jake, but just couldn't do it. I felt so badly for my mom, she was going to have to help me a lot. I was crushed for G&D. They were crushed, too. A social worker came to my room and talked to me like I was a 5 year old; "now you know the baby needs to eat often, right?" in a very high, sing-songy voice. Yeah, lady, I was making an adoption plan, I'm not a dunce.

Saturday May 16, I took my son home. I was numb, and scared, and relieved, and sad, and scared scared scared. He didn't sleep a wink that night; we both cried much of the night.

Monday May 18 was my due date. It was my first full day alone with the baby. I read to him from The Bastard. Boyfriend thought it was inappropriate reading material for a newborn, but I reminded him: it's good for the baby to be talked to a lot, and I ran out of things to say. I started reading What to Expect the First Year, and tried to be the best mom I could.

Happy Birthmother's Day!

I first heard of Birthmother's Day when Colin was 1. I believe it was his mom that told me about it and recognized me on that day for the first time. I was ecstatic. I felt so honored, and appreciated to have my own day. Mother's Day was so hard, I loved having a day that was mine, that honored the sacrifice and bittersweet feelings of being a birthmom. I saw it as an example of how far we've come wrt birthparenthood, and not asking us to just "get on with our lives". It was one way to integrate this experience and carry it with us as we continued our lives.

I've heard from some birthmother's that they find Birthmother's Day kind of offensive. That it separates us from "real" mothers, or excludes us from the "real" holiday. It never occurred to me to think of it like that, but I can see why some do. Although, I'm sure whomever started Birthmother's Day did it with intention of making us feel loved, and not excluded. I've chosen to just take it as a really nice gesture.

To me, we are different. The hardest part of Mother's Day (before Jeb) was that I felt kind of like a mother. I felt like I was in the club, but didn't have an invitation. At Mother's Day lunches, I felt like I was crashing the party. No one really knew what to say to me. I could see in their eyes that they remembered, and I felt bad for making their celebration uncomfortable.

My family has always been terrific about including me as a mother on Mother's Day, and of course I always appreciate it, but I like that Birthmother's Day feels more honest.

That's just me, though. I think that women should celebrate/recognize/honor whatever feels most comfortable for them. There are so many emotional stages of birthmotherhood; I've needed very different things in different years.

So, I hope everyone has a great weekend, whatever you are celebrating!

A response to another's post.

I have been mulling over and over in my head whether or not to do this, to respond full-post-style to this post over at The Adoptive Parent. I first read the post a few days ago, and it's been bugging me ever since, so I decided to go for it.



I really like that blog, and Sally, especially since I won her book ;). So nothing I'm saying here is meant to offend. One of the reasons I really liked her book was that it gave me a terrific view into an adoptive mom's head and heart. It's a perspective I'll never know; even if I were to adopt in the future, it wouldn't be the same. I rely on people like Sally to tell me what it's like to be an amom, and I believe what they tell me.

Her post about birthparents really did not give us the same respect.

S: Honestly, I don't understand making that decision.
This Birthmom: Understandable. It's one of those things you can't understand until you're there.

S: You chose to walk out of your child's life because you love them?
TB: Actually, yes. It's more complicated than that, but at the root, yes.

S: Tell me you took on two jobs to make ends meet, etc...
TB: Wow, what a slap in the face. Are you saying you don't find my expression of love worthy? I should have done any of the things you wrote to prove my love? This felt very judgemental.

S: My point is that I believe birth parents love their children, but I don't believe that's why they choose adoption.
TB: Why wouldn't you believe what birth parents tell you? We are not able to articulate our own feelings? It's pretty condescending to assume you know better what we mean than we do. If your child's birthmom explains to him that she placed out of love, are you going to correct her?

S: I believe that birth parents choose adoption not because they love their children, but in spite of how much they love their children.
TB: Nope, again. It is possible to place a baby because you love him.

S: It is a matter of putting your child's needs in place of your own. Choosing adoption means choosing to meet your child's needs instead of your own.
TB: Placing my son for adoption met needs I had, too. Maybe it sounds harsh, but I would not have been able to direct my life the way I wanted to, and meet my full potential while parenting at that time. That was a big part of my decision.


At the beginning of her post, she initially admitted that she didn't understand making the decision to place. So, why is she turning things all around? To make sense of it in her own head? You don't have to understand this thing to respect it. It doesn't make sense, to on one hand say that you don't understand something, and then on the other go to great lengths to explain it, almost from a birth mother's perspective. Please, don't interpret what I say, just hear it.

There is no way for an amom to put herself in the shoes of a birthmom. Placing a baby is the polar opposite to infertility etc. If my reasons don't make sense to an amom, OK, so be it. But they are still my reasons. It's not that I'm confused, it's that we are coming at this thing from completely different angles, places, experiences, feelings, and circumstances.


I really really really, can't express enough how much I don't want this whole post to come off as angry or offensive. It's my reaction, and a contribution to the dialogue, that is all.

16 and Pregnant

I don't typically watch the show, but I happened to be flipping around and found the episode about the girl considering placing her baby. She is an adoptee and her parents really really want her to place.

What a tough situation. Some of the things the mom says are way out of line, in my opinion. They really border on coercion, which makes me feel all sorts of icky inside. On the flip side, if this girl parents, her parents are taking on a huge commitment too. Whether they like it or not, they are going to help out a lot. Should the parents have some say? My gut says "no", it's really only the girl's decision, but it's hard because it affects so many people.

It's obvious the girl's mom is very pro-adoption; of course she is, it allowed her to have a family. It's almost like she is taking it personally that the girl is hesitant. The mom talks often about how much better the girl's life has been because of the choice that her birthmom made. (wow, this would have been easier to write about had I remembered any names!) I think it is really unfair of the mom to play on the girl's emotions like that. Every adoption is its own situation. Every adoptee who has an unintentional pregnancy isn't obligated to choose adoption as well as a sign to the world that they are cool with their own adoption! How crazy! Also, the girl seems to be processing her own feelings of loss wrt her adoption; I'm sure she is thinking about some feelings she would like to spare her own child. What an incredibly loaded situation. I wish the mom would back off; if this girl does choose to place, she needs to be able to own that decision and not look back years from now and think she got coerced.

I think this this is about as hard as a situation can get. If girl wants to parent and her parents are supportive: fantastic. If girl wants to place and her parents are supportive: also fantastic. If girl wants to place and her parents want her to parent: that's sad, but girl's parents will have to deal with it. But this? Girl wants to parent and needs her parents help but they are not supportive? Hard, hard, hard.

I really just should not watch the show. Most of the situations they follow are total trainwrecks, and the adoption stories are too triggery. I can't stand watching such a difficult decision get exploited.

An Anniversary

12 years ago today, I spoke with Colin's parents for the first time.

I had called the agency just a week before asking for profiles. They sent me 4, and assured me that I could see many more if nothing jumped out at me. But G&D's profile did just that; it JUMPED out at me. When we would speak to waiting families in years to come, they always asked me what it was about the profile that made me love them. Honestly? It was really colorful and bright. That's it. I wish there was something more profound that I could tell Colin, but the truth is is that I was drawn to it's brightness. So, I told the agency I'd like to talk to G&D.

On Feb 12 they called me and we talked for about 15 minutes. I had a list of questions that now seem really superficial, but that's how you just start getting to know someone -- with awkward small talk. I told them I felt badly that they had to go through so much to be parents, that they had to be questioned by a teenager. They told me later that they were really impressed that I sympathized with them so early on.

There was chemistry from that first phone call, and that was that. I told the agency that I officially "chose" them, and they came to visit me 2 weeks later. We talked weekly until I delivered.

I took so much for granted. I was committed to placing and it would confuse me when they would talk in "ifs" instead of "whens". Now I know they were being respectful of my right to parent, but at the time I thought geez, why don't these people believe me? They would use adoption-sensitive language and I thought why don't they just talk normal? One time D used the word "co-parent" as in, not wanting to, and I thought who comes up with these words? obviously we're not co-parenting... he's going to be YOURS. I had a keen sense that I was holding all the cards; I'd never had that much power and it was uncomfortable. Everyone held their breath around me, including my family. From that first day I wanted to tell everyone to chill out. I'm placing this baby and that's that. (hmm, tangent much?)

12 years. Man, time flies.

Birth Order in Birth Families

When I was 19, and Colin was 17 months old, I attended an awesome retreat for birthmothers. It was the first time I was even in the same room with another birthmother; the isolation melted away in a puddle of tears. It was incredible. One of the biggest surprises, to me, was that there were women there who had placed under very different circumstances than me. I know that sounds very naive, but I was the classic teenager in a crisis pregnancy who then became the "angel" (gag) for an infertile couple. At the retreat, I met women who had placed multiple children, who were already parenting several children and then placed a surprise baby, and a married couple who had placed. At first, I'll admit it, I was judgemental.

I looked at the woman who had placed 3 times and thought: How in the world did you keep letting this happen?

I looked at the woman who was already parenting several children and thought: Really? This is the one you can't handle? How is that child going to feel years from now knowing his siblings were cool to "keep", but he wasn't?

I looked at the married couple and raged: Holy crap! If I had been remotely close to marriage I would never have given my son away! How is your kid going to handle that?


It took me about an afternoon to notice that despite different circumstances, there was a universal theme. Every single woman there placed because she didn't feel ready/able/prepared to parent her baby. Every single woman there wanted a different life for her baby than she was ready/able/prepared to give. I was humbled, and cast my judgements to the wind.

Now, once again, parenting Jeb puts a spin on my thoughts. I'm certainly not picking those judgements back up, in fact, I've become much better at not judging in general. Quite frankly, I don't much care to hear the reasons another woman feels the need to place. I trust she knows what she's doing, and only really think about the support I hope she has. (Obviously coercion, which I abhor, is another story.)

No, the spin parenting puts on it is just this: when I placed, I knew there was something, many things, many wonderful things Colin would get/experience from a stable household that I was not able to provide at the time. I didn't understand what those things were, but I knew they were real, and that he deserved them. It was his birth right to have parents who were bonkers to be his parents. Now, though? I get it. And so, it's wild for me to read blogs, or hear stories of women who were already parenting, and place a subsequent baby. They know. They know exactly what they are giving up. They know exactly what it feels like to snuggle, kiss, caress, love, cradle, nurse, lose your patience but regain it in that toddler's smile, etc. I know that those women's intentions are as pure as mine were, but their strength far exceeds the strength I needed back in 1998.

I'll reiterate, that for a woman feel the need to place a baby while she's parenting other children, is an especially incredible act of love. I wonder though, how that changes the experience of the adoptee. Does that throw an extra question mark into the adoptee's process? Again, no judgements, I am only wondering. Anyone who has read my previous posts, knows that my birthson struggles with the fact that he's adopted, so I am certainly on no High Horse.

Over the years I have learned that adoptees feel a range of emotion about their situations, and I've come to conclude there really is no sure fire way to make an adoptee feel peachy about the whole thing. Many do, don't get me wrong, but it's impossible to tell at the moment of placement how that child will cope with it later in life.

I think I've answered my own question. You just don't know, so you do your best.

Modern Technology and Open Adoption

Colin is 11.5 years old(!), and he got his very own cell phone for Christmas. He is ecstatic, and so am I. A couple of months ago he gave me his email address, so we have been emailing, which I love love love. Now we can call and text each other ad lib. Not that I couldn't already call him whenever I wanted, or vice versa, but this feels different. I like it. His parents and I developed this strong foundation with a common goal: that one day, Colin and I would have our own relationship. Up until recently, the primary relationship has been between his parents and me, which is obviously how it should be. Colin is now at an age that we can really start to get to know one another. His parents are comfortable with all of this, of course. In fact, I plan on calling his mom just to let her know how excited I am about this new phase, but also to reinforce that I would never do/say/imply anything that is in disagreeance with what we have all been teaching Colin about our relationships and adoption in general. I also know that it will sound redundant to her. She will appreciate the gesture, but she knows that I know, and I know that she knows that I know... get it? It's how we roll; it's why it takes 11 years to get to this point.

I can tell that Colin is excited for us to have this kind of "independent" communication :)


This is all a fantastic indication that we've been doing something right for the last decade!

Hard work? It pays off.