From Guest BloggerTamera Slack, birth mother and adoptee, click here>> for more information on Adoption Mosaic Bloggers.
Don’t refer to our children as “gifts”
Gifts are something you “create or buy” with the intention to give away. Birth Mothers don’t intentionally get pregnant to give children away as “gifts.” Rather, you were given the “gift” of the experience of parenting and entrusted with the honor of caring for, and keeping safe, another mother’s child. A gift passes ownership of “the thing” from the giver to the receiver. Children are not “things” to be owned, but rather unique individuals who like all people have ties and connections to family which cannot be severed or transferred, no matter who claims them as their own. Most Birth Mothers would agree that they “gave up” their right to parent, but do not feel they should have to “give up” their right to know their children, even if that was what we were told we had to do.
Instead you might say, “I am so thankful for the opportunity to experience parenting and raising a child.”
Do not say “you made the right choice.”
You do not know for sure if a Birth Mother actually felt like she had a choice. Often due to circumstances and the social influences surrounding her, she doesn’t feel she had much of a choice at all. A Birth Mother may have been harassed, threatened or isolated to get her to relinquish, or she may have felt there was no support system to help her. A child is best left with their original mother whenever possible, therefore relinquishing a child is not considered the “right choice,” but “a choice.” Since we do not have the ability to know what might have been, no one will ever know if the “right choice,” for mother or child, was truly made or not.
Instead you might say, “That must have been a really hard thing to do. If you ever need to talk about what happened, I am here for you.”
Don’t say “you, or the child, was better off.”
Again, whenever possible, a child is best left with the mother that created them and with whom they share a biological bond. Their connection to the world begins with their biological mother. We can all agree that every child deserves a safe and loving home, and when this cannot happen within a child’s family of origin, we must provide it for them some other way. However age, economy and marital status are not automatic reasons for a child to be “better off in another family,” or for a mother not to be able to keep her baby. In fact age, economy and martial status are all variables that can and are changed with time, whereas a biological tie cannot be replaced or substituted.
Instead you might say, “I wonder what your life would have been like had you not had this experience” and then JUST LISTEN.
Don’t say “it’s a good thing you have an open adoption”
Open adoptions are not the cure all for the grief and pain that comes with relinquishing a child. Although we can agree that “open” is a much better than “closed,” it is still painful for a mother and child to be separated and open adoptions come with a different set of challenges altogether.
Instead you might say, “I bet it is still hard to not be able to parent your child yourself.”
Don’t respond with, “maybe your child does not want to have a relationship with you.”
Often, the only thing a Birth Mother has is “hope.” It may be the only way we get through each day of our lives after relinquishing our children. It is especially hard to hold on to “hope” when reunions are rocky or stagnant. Our biggest fear is that our children will not want to have a relationship with us, or be so hurt by what has happened that they don’t feel they can. Nothing positive can come from reminding us that this might be the outcome.
Instead you might help us hold onto “hope” by saying, ”I’m sure he/she will come around.”
Don’t remind us “that it may take time” to reconnect with our children.
For most of us, we are all too familiar with the “time” it takes to connect with our children. Those with a closed adoption have most likely had to wait 18 years to even attempt contact with their child. Others may have taken even more “time” to find the emotional energy to attempt this reconnection. When we finally do find that strength it takes every fiber of our being to make that journey. We apologize to all those who feel we seem to be “too pushy,” but when you finally have a chance to be with your baby, patience is a pretty tough thing to practice. Imagine for a moment if you had not been able to talk to, see or touch your own child for 18 years and then tell us if you would be willing to “take more time.” We are intimately aware of the “time” it takes. . .there is not need to remind us.
Instead you might say, “It must be really hard to wait for your child.”
Don’t shut down grief or pain, or say you “know how we feel.”
Relinquishment of a child is an incredibly unique and painful experience. Trying to soothe a Birth Mother by using comparisons to other loses in life will not console, but rather widen the gap and isolation. We know you can’t know what relinquishing a child is like, unless you yourself have gone through this exact experience. The grief, sadness and anger that accompanies it is normal and needs to be let out. We know no one wants to hear the true pain of this experience and that is why we are often left to deal with it alone. Be able to sit, listen and comfort without trying to “fix it,” make comparisons, or shut it down. It is truly a gift when a Birth Mother feels safe enough to begin to tell her story. If you are who she picks to tell it to, you have a unique opportunity to help with her healing by simply listening and giving her love.
Instead you might say, “I have no idea how hard losing a child to adoption must be. If you want to talk I am here to listen.”
Don’t say “at least you didn’t choose abortion,” or “at least your child’s alive.”
First of all, you don’t know if the woman you are talking to may have had an abortion in addition to relinquishing a child. Abortion is an equally hard and painful choice, discussions of which often lead to arguments of personal, religious and political beliefs rather than offering comfort. Additionally, many of us with closed adoptions have no idea if our relinquished children are alive or not. This is another fear and anxiety we live with until we are able to find out the truth. We don’t know if their adoption experience was a good one, and whether or not they were raised in a loving home, or if instead they were abused and neglected as sometimes happens. It is obvious that we chose life for our relinquished children, so no need to point it out.
Instead you might say, “It must have been really hard to carry a baby full term and then not be able to parent.”
Please, please, please don’t say “everything happens for a reason.”
I have a personal disdain for this statement, but know that there are some Birth Mothers and even Adoptees who find comfort in it. However, since I am writing this particular piece I am going to take liberty and state why I, and other Birth Mothers may not find this statement helpful.
None of us like to feel out of control of situations that occur through life, especially uncomfortable or sad ones. Also, if you are a religious or spiritual person, you may in fact have the belief that things are in being directed by some greater power. Either way, we have a tendency to try and make “sense” of things by throwing out this comment. This statement is made for the death of a loved one, to the loss of a job, or the adoption of a child and everything in between. I will tell you the reason I lost my son, because I was shamed and felt no support by the people who supposedly cared the most for me. They made a mistake, as many people do with this “situation.” This “mistake” has caused great pain in my life, my child’s life and the lives of many other Birth Mothers who were faced with my same circumstances. Adoption occurs for many reasons, whether it is by “choice,” or “circumstance.” Suggesting there was some “divine plan or fate” that caused the loss is not comforting or healing for the people that were separated. We live in an imperfect world, and sometimes bad and sad things happen. I find greater comfort in knowing that life is sometimes unfair, then feeling that I and my child were in some way “used” to fulfill some “greater plan.” Until you know whether or not the statement above is comforting to the Birth Mother you are speaking with, it is probably best you just not say it.
Instead you might say, “I am so sorry that you suffered this loss in your life.”
From The Adoption Constellation magazine: “Behind the Scenes”
Humor and Adoption, An Uneasy Balance
Most everything in the world, no matter how poignant, can be viewed through the lens of humor. However, when it comes to adoption, there is sometimes an uncomfortable pause before anyone giggles at the punch line. It’s a pause that seems to ask, “Wait, is it okay to laugh about this?” New rules apply, and it’s hard to know what they are, who is making them, and how they’ll be enforced.
Is it okay to laugh about adoption? If it is, does it matter whether the person telling the joke is a first parent, adoptee, adoptive parent, or someone without any adoption connection? For instance, an adoptee might joke with a wink that he looks uncannily like the next door neighbor, but is that joke still funny if told by an adoptive father about his adopted son? And in a time when the media is still using, “You’re adopted!” as a punch line, should the adoption community be encouraging laughter about adoption?
These are some of the questions that we at The Adoption Constellation asked ourselves as we approached the comic No Refund. The beauty of a short comic strip is that, like a painting or sculpture, it is open to many different interpretations regardless of the artist’s original vision. For instance, the title No Refund can be seen as a tongue-in-cheek commentary on adoption dissolution and disruption. But the title can also be read as a reflection on the paradox of the, at times, exploitative economics of adoption and the lived realities of families built through adoption. Whatever the author’s intent or the reader’s interpretation, the title No Refund is sure to provoke strong reactions. We struggled with whether such a title might offend people to the point that they would not want to engage with this piece at all.
We wondered if the comic would be viewed differently if the title changed or if the illustrations were redrawn. We talked about whether the impact of the comic would change if it were authored by an adoptee, a birth parent or an adoptive parent. We found that we’d shared a common pause when we read the comic, one that problematized the smile tugging at our lips. Wait, was this funny? And if we thought it was, what exactly were the implications of that? If we found it offensive, what did that mean? On the other hand, maybe we all just needed to lighten up.
Our confusion was not surprising given that people have different ideas about humor, just as they have different ideas about art. What is considered funny varies from person to person. In addition, humor serves different purposes in society. While humor has often been utilized to smooth tension, ease communication, and bring people together, it has also historically been used to keep people in their place and create or enforce separation by stigmatizing those outside of an insider group. Humor also has a trangressive side. It allows us to say things that are not polite. It can give voice to uncomfortable truths and shock us out of complacency. As such, humor has often been used as a tool to transform the status quo.
The intersection of humor and adoption requires that we challenge ourselves and push out of our comfort zones. Humor can break down our assumptions and certainty. All we can do is wonder. And in this state of wonder, we are open to new possibilities.
Thinking critically about adoption means we must listen to different voices and build bridges between divergent perspectives. We look at how joy and sorrow intertwine. And we do not settle for easy answers. Because we know that to do so would close down dialogue. As we’re doing this work, can we also welcome levity to the table? Is there a place set for joking? As Sally Moon Lee invites, can we entertain the possibility that there is something to laugh about?
We commit to listening and sitting through the uncomfortable pauses. We stay with each other through the tears—whether they are tears of grief or of laughter. As The Adoption Constellation sets about the work of building bridges, we invite you to wonder alongside us.
On this New Year’s Day i’m thinking about this past year blog-wise, and revisiting my favorite blog posts seems an appropriate thing to do. There are far too many to mention them all, but I want to mention some.
2010 started out with They Already Have A Daddy. It was a small glimpse into one couple’s exploration of the possibility of adoption. It was a true story, and my intention was to show this “light bulb” moment they both had during their process. The post went viral within the adoption blog-o-sphere and to this day it still get’s regular weekly hits. Among other things, it created a rich learning experience for everyone at the AM Blog. It’s companion piece is Blog Commenter “M”.
One of my favorite posts this year was a guest post by Dawn Friedman who blogs at This Woman’s Work. The post is titled There Is Enough Love. She writes: (Penny is her daughter, Madison’s, birth mother. They have an open adoption)
Here’s the thing: My daughter’s love for Pennie has nothing to do with me although its presence is part of our relationship, too. Because I have two kids, I know that you can love people totally the same and totally different. I know that love is indefinable and immeasurable. I know that “I love you” means a whole lot of things for which words are inadequate. So I think I understand how Madison can love us both as her mothers and how sometimes her immediate feelings will be stronger one way then stronger the other. That she adores me, I have no doubt. The rest (how much, how often) is details and unimportant ones at that.
It’s not a contest. I tell my own kids that all the time when they bicker over servings of dessert or privileges given to one but not the other. While they may be too young to always trust that there is enough love for everyone, I am older and wise enough to know that it’s true
Is the acknowledgement of a child’s adoptive status on a census really the issue? Or it is it the fact that we live in a world where kinship through biology is considered the standard to which all other forms of kinship must be compared to? We don’t even have a language to talk about other forms of kinship, except by comparing them to biological kinship. Either you love this child “as if” you are biologically related, or you don’t “really” love this child.
The post Angry In A Whole New Light explored a topic I had wanted to write about many times, but whenever I started to write, the words just never seemed to come together. Finally I just sat down and wrote it. It’s so strange how the simplest posts sometimes feel so heavy to write:
I know many adoptees, and although this is not true across the board (adoptees will never be pigeonholed), i’ve found that more often than not, when you look beyond the surface, the adoptees whom a casual observer may most likely label as an “angry adoptee” or see as being the most critical of different aspects of adoption, are often the very ones who have the closest and healthiest relationships with their adoptive parents. It seems counter-intuitive, but I see it over and over again.
I think a healthy and honest relationship with one’s adoptive parents sets the stage, not only for an adoptee to feel safe exploring their own adoption experience, but also to feel safe and comfortable exploring different aspects of adoption as a whole. Some may take this exploration, especially if it includes any criticism of adoption in general, as being rooted in instability or anger. I would call that short-sighted.
When an adoptee makes a critical statement about adoption or adoption practices it doesn’t automatically mean that they are “angry” or have a bad relationship with their parents. Often, the opposite is true, and all it really means is that they’ve been paying attention.
This past summer I had the opportunity to film one of Adoption Mosaic’s Transracial Adoptee Panels. It was such a great panel, and I’m glad that I will be able to share it more widely. Following is the first of several videos from that panel. In this video, LaCrisha, Shelise, and Micah talk about their experiences dealing with issues of beauty and identity.
We’ve received many comments about this blog; many good, some bad, all interesting. A while ago I was told something that gave me pause. The comment (from an adoptive parent) went something like this: They believed that adoptive parents are negatively triggered by this blog due to the vocalism of the adoptees present here – in the comments as well as the posts- that it brings up the fear that their children may “turn out” like the adoptees on the blog, and that this would be a terrible thing.
My answer was that it was sad they felt that way, because I felt that any adoptive parent should be proud to be the parent of such thoughtful, honest, and introspective men and women.
I see this as yet another example of the disconnect between many adoptees and adoptive parents. Because I know this individual personally, I took their comment with a grain of salt. However, I honor the truth of the sentiment and have no doubt that other readers may feel similarly.
It’s no surprise that, being adopted myself, I disagree with the statement, but the reason why may not be so obvious. I know many adoptees, and although this is not true across the board (adoptees will never be pigeonholed), i’ve found that more often than not, when you look beyond the surface, the adoptees whom a casual observer may most likely label as an “angry adoptee” or see as being the most critical of different aspects of adoption, are often the very ones who have the closest and healthiest relationships with their adoptive parents. It seems counter-intuitive, but I see it over and over again.
I think a healthy and honest relationship with one’s adoptive parents sets the stage, not only for an adoptee to feel safe exploring their own adoption experience, but also to feel safe and comfortable exploring different aspects of adoption as a whole. Some may take this exploration, especially if it includes any criticism of adoption in general, as being rooted in instability or anger. I would call that short-sighted.
When an adoptee makes a critical statement about adoption or adoption practices it doesn’t automatically mean that they are “angry” or have a bad relationship with their parents. Often, the opposite is true, and all it really means is that they’ve been paying attention.
From Guest Blogger Shelise Gieseke, click here>> for more information on Adoption Mosaic Bloggers. Shelise’s thoughts on this post were inspired by the post What to Tell — And Whenon the blog Research-China.org
Talking about adoption with your children is a delicate balance – one that parents have to learn because it is not necessarily an intuitive skill. If parents have to learn how to talk about adoption, whether it is about birth families, orphanages, or abandonment, then adopted youth definitely need to learn how to talk about adoption, and how to navigate the complexities that come with it. If parents are not modeling how the conversation about adoption goes, then how will their kids learn the tools to talk with their parents, or others, about adoption? Read the rest of this entry »
From Guest BloggerMelissa Konomosvisit her atYoon’s Blur, and click here>> for more information on Adoption Mosaic Bloggers.
After reuniting with my biological parents last year, my husband asked me whether my need to conceive biological children had diminished at all.
(Just for clarity’s sake, we both want to have children, so he was not asking because he was hoping to escape the simultaneous joys and horrors of raising children. But rather he was asking a very valid question based on previous conversations, in which I had expressed a desire, almost a longing need, to conceive a biological child.)
Clearly, as an adoptee, I have never known what it is to share a biological connection with someone else. Earlier in our relationship, as my husband and I would discuss whether we wanted to conceive a child, time and time again, my answer was an emphatic, almost desperate, “Yes.”
There was never a doubt as to why I answered, Yes. Having a biological child seemed the only way that I could somehow know and connect with my biological mother and father. It seemed the only way that I might be able to gain insight into what my biological mother experienced as she carried me for nine months and subsequently relinquished me. It also seemed the only way that I would be able to understand what it means to share a biological connection with another human being.
But now, that I have met my biological mother and father, along with uncles, aunts, and cousins, and hence now have opportunity to build relationships with those who share my biology, it would seem plausible that my “need” to have biological children would diminish or at least change as a result.
As of now, surprisingly so, meeting my biological family has actually seemed to have the opposite effect of what would be predicted—it seems to have increased my desire to want biological children.
I can identify several contributing factors.
The first factor I’ll mention is simply that reunion does not “fix it.” There can be a well intentioned but false assumption that once an adoptee reunites with his or her biological family, it fixes everything—all the questions find answers, all the loss and pain find healing, and so forth.
This is not true for more reasons than I have space to elucidate here. But in short, reunion cannot magically redeem all the years, often decades, that have been lost. Although reunion has given me some answers, in many ways it has served to also give me more questions. Although reunion has brought some healing, it has also awakened old pain while stirring new pain. Although reunion has allowed me to meet my biological family, it cannot compensate for the 35 years that have been lost between us.
Even though I now have the hope of building a relationship with my biological mother, she and I will never share the moments when I took my first steps or spoke my first words. She and I will never know the thrill of when I first learned to ride a bike or when I won a soccer game. She and I will never know the tender moments when my first love broke my heart or conversely when my husband and I fell in love and eventually married.
She was not there and will never be able to be there for those crucial moments of my development growing from child to woman. She has missed the first 35 years of my life, and nothing we do can ever retrieve or restore all those moments of growing up that have been lost between us—except in some symbolic, metaphorical way—that is, through conceiving a biological child.
Hence, secondly, having a biological child, at least for me, lures me in as an opportunity for redemption for all of us. My Omma and I could share in the moments of raising my child, her grandchild. She could be there for her grandchild in the way that she could not be there for me, while I could give to my child what I never had—a relationship with a family that is both biological and relational. My Appa would also have, in a way, a second chance to do things differently.
A third reason that I can identify for wanting biological children even more so now that I have met my biological mother and father is that I fear losing them all over again. Some day, I know that they will die. So, I tell myself that if I have a biological child, the trauma of losing them a second time will perhaps be minimized if I can look at my biological child and see them in him or her. Without a child through whom I can maintain a biological connection to the parents that I lost 35 years ago and will lose again some day, I fear that the connection I now have will be lost and severed again, forever, when they die.
So, you see, at least for me, meeting my biological mother and father has not abated my desire to have biological children. Rather it has intensified and amplified it.
Now, of course, I share all this knowing that having a child for these reasons is a dangerous thing. I don’t want to bring a child into this world assigning him or her with the job of redeeming the lost hopes and dreams of his or her mother and grandparents. (Alanis Morissette wrote a very affecting song years ago about parents who do just this entitled, “Perfect.”) If I do ever have a biological child, I am going to have to be hyper aware of my own issues to ensure that I don’t project them onto my child—the aforementioned being only a few of the many issues.
I am simply sharing all of this in an attempt to explain, with sincerity and a somewhat uncomfortable honesty, what goes on in my mind and heart as an adoptee regarding the question that titles this post, “Did meeting my biological family diminish my desire to conceive biological children?”
I am not purporting that my answers to this question are right or wrong—they just are. As adoptees, we face complex psychological issues surrounding identity and relationships and just about everything else in life. The issue of biological children is no different.
I realize the emotional baggage I carry, and the potential that exists that I may strap that baggage onto my children. This is all the more reason for me to be aware of it and to make it apparent to others—not simply for my children’s sake, but for the sake of others who also occupy this vast and complex world of the adoption experience.
This video is from Kevin Hofmann who blogs at My Mind On Paper. Kevin has recently made the leap to video blogging, these are his thoughts on Sandra Bullock’s recent adoption:
From Guest BloggerMelissa Konomosvisit her atYoon’s Blur, and click here>> for more information on Adoption Mosaic Bloggers.
I am a Korean-American adoptee who met my biological parents for the first time (last year in June of 2009) since my relinquishment in 1975. Since then, I have officially entered into what is often referred to as “post-reunion.”
Post reunion often receives less attention, I think, in part, because it is less glamorous and less emotionally climactic than the process of search and reunion. Hearing the story of how I searched for seven long years and the details of the first moments of coming face to face with my Omma and my Appa are much more enthralling and riveting. It is this phase of the adoption experience that brings simultaneous tears to our eyes and smiles to our mouths. But the actual reunion is only the beginning of a long, and often arduous and daunting, process. I find it unfortunate that post-reunion is so grossly neglected, because it can often be the stage in the process that can last the longest, can be the most fragile and complicated, and requires long-term support that is often lacking or underdeveloped. Read the rest of this entry »
The adoption world was shocked and horrified when news of Torry-Ann Hanson’s adoption disruption broke earlier this month. Along with her mother, Nancy Hanson, Torry placed 7 year old Russian adoptee, Artyom Savelyev, on a plane to Russia, accompanied by nothing but a note.
I’m hesitant to draw firm conclusions about this situation until more information surfaces. However, for those of you who are following this case, or have just heard about it here. Following are several links with more information. Read the rest of this entry »
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