Split the baby, or leave it whole? Division or integrity?

A couple weeks ago, one of our own appeared on The View.  Kristen, who also writes at Rage Against the Minivan, was one of several adoptive parents in the discussion, alongside an “adoption expert.”  For several reasons, I did not watch the show.  However, I was able to follow the dialogue around that episode, most notably at Kristen’s post “what I wanted to say… ” and at another post on Resist Racism.

My first observation was that the conversation on The View came strictly from the perspective of a so-called “expert” and several adoptive parents.  Where are the parents who relinquished?  Where are the adult adoptees?  Sadly, and typically, they were not represented.  I wonder if The View producers even thought to include those two critical voices, or if no adoptees or birth parents would step forward?  We’ll never know.

Beyond that, if you read the two links mentioned above, you’ll notice a striking difference in tone and opinion.  It’s like those two blogs weren’t even talking about the same event.  Did Resist know just how much Kristen wanted to say, how poorly represented she was?  Does Kristen understand just how great an affront the lack of adoptee/birth parent representation can be to those under-voiced members of the triad?  When I read Resist, I nod in agreement.  When I read Rage, I also nod in agreement.

The most startling thing for me is that adoption conversations so often sound like political or religious debates.  There are zealots, pundits, and dogmatists at every turn.  I have find myself pulled toward all three sides of the adoption triad – as an adult adoptee, adoptive parent, and biological parent (who was fortunate enough to have the necessary social and emotional support to parent my biological children).  There seem to be myriad presumptions with each of those roles, expectations and assumptions that I cannot live up to.  In any one conversation I can have concurrent and conflicting emotions and feelings, depending on which angle my mind pursues the topic from.  Truth is smoke.  It flows and fades.  And I, all the while, sit between and betwixt.

There are yet adoptees, AP’s and birth parents who seek to listen and reconcile.  Who hope to rebuild what has been broken.  Yes, adoption always starts with injustice, with tragedy.  No, we can never return to what could have been.  But we can build bridges now.  Instead of pointing angry fingers and slinging accusations, we can learn from past mistakes.  Instead of seeing only the stereotype in our mind, we can see the human situation before our eyes.

Are all adoptees who long for a biological family ungrateful?  Does criticism of the adoption industry make an adoptee by default “angry”?   Can a person only love one family, one culture, one country?

Are all young, unwed, or financially unstable people unsuitable for parenthood?  Do relinquishing parents forfeit their right to love and desire their child?   Is relinquishment always an act of love or selfishness?

Are all white adoptive parents flaunting their white privilege of entitlement?  Do all Christians who adopt intend to save an orphan?  Is it impossible for a white parent to empathize with their adopted children of color?

I hope not.

But it is so easy to fall back to those labels – so much easier than accepting all the convoluted layers of each individual story.

Conversations about adoption are polarizing.  I have seen too often where individuals bring their personal experiences and baggage to the dialogue, seeking only to substantiate their myopic view.  I have witnessed all sides of the triad pick each other apart, using one unfortunate word choice to deconstruct an entire thesis.  In our need for confirmation bias, we seek only to affirm our version of the truth.

That is why I walked away from my adoption blog, faiths and illusions.  I felt my blog being used against me, and I refuse to be buried alive by my own words.

For those of you blogging about adoption, I applaud you.  Those who are reading with an open mind and  spirit, who want to advance the greater good and not just one’s own agenda, I am with you.  Even better, those who are doing the good work in real life, a thousand thank you’s.  I’m not trying to be all kumbayah here, but we have got to be kinder to one another.  Sitting on any side of this adoption triad can tear one apart.

Raina sometimes finds taking the high road highly unsatisfying, but it’s what her momma taught her to do.  She enjoys beauty, light, and asking lots of rhetorical questions at her new bloggy home, outside the tangle.

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Who is a “birth dad”, anyway?

He’s the guy who got freaked out and left.

He’s the guy who was told to leave.

He’s the guy who helped decide that maybe adoption is something to look into.

He’s the guy who didn’t want adoption to be an option, but was strong-armed into it.

He’s the guy who lives with a secret that nobody knows about, not even his wife.

He’s the guy who wonders, always wonders–the boy he sees everyday on the playground–is that him?

It’s been this way since the beginning of time–when a child is conceived, a woman can’t deny it for long. A man, on the other hand, is faced with choices. The way it works is that a man has to make a conscious decision to be a father. He, in some ways, has to be invited to do so by the mother of his child.

So where does that leave fathers of children who were placed for adoption?

Often, it leaves them out of the process all together. A woman does not need (nor can she be legally forced) to name the biological father on her child’s birth certificate. If he’s not named, he can’t be found to sign the papers terminating his parental rights. State laws vary on how this can impact a child’s eligibility for adoption, and what recourse a man has if he finds out after the child has been placed for adoption that the child is biologically his.

On the Internet, birth fathers appear to be the most silent part of the adoption puzzle. Of the many websites and forums dedicated to adoption, few tout “a special section” devoted to birth fathers. Is it because they aren’t interested? Is it because they don’t know?

In writing this, I was hoping to find some resources to cite and to other for support. I didn’t find many. Here are two links I found interesting. One is an article I found over a year ago, and I’ve yet to come across another one documenting one man’s quest to find out how, exactly, a putative father registry works. The other is an article illustrating the importance of a biological father, for emotional and legal reasons, in regards to adoption.

Do you have other resources for this forgotten group? Please share!

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When we were placed with Gabriel, through foster care, he had two fathers on paper – a ‘legal’ father, the man his birth mother was married to at the time of his birth, and a ‘biological’ father – the man listed on the birth certificate.  His legal father quickly relinquished his rights, but his birth father did not.  The state contacted him directly through certified mail, ‘published’ for him and contact his extended relatives, requesting he take a paternity test.  But, no response from him.

The state moved their case forward, after 3 years of waiting for him to respond, and begun the process of terminating his rights.  After all, there had been no word from this man in over three years.

Jeff and I got to court one spring morning, anxious for the judge to terminate his biological father’s rights *this* time – the last piece in the puzzle to Gabriel being legally free.  When we arrived, our social worker greeted us.

“I have bad news,” she started.  It seemed every time we talked to her those days that is how it went. “We heard from Gabriel’s biological father, and he completed the paternity test yesterday.”

“What were the results?” Jeff and I asked immediately – if it didn’t prove paternity, then we had nothing to fear.

“I don’t know, I don’t have the results yet, I just heard from the lab that he came to the appointment.  But there is more bad news.”

Jeff and I held our breath.

“Our regular judge is sick today.  We expect that the substitute judge will rule to wait to see the results of the birth father’s paternity test.  He won’t terminate his parental rights today.”

Jeff and I were sick.  But, given that this is how the entire process was going for us; we weren’t surprised.  We sat down and waited to be called into the court room to see what would happen.

When our case was announced, we went in and took a seat.  The judge came to our case, from behind his large wooden desk at the front of the room, started to review our paperwork, and our social worker stood up to address the court, “After not hearing from him for the last 3 years, he took the paternity test at the 11^th hour yesterday.”

The judge looked over the paperwork, and Jeff and I sat close together, holding hands, on the bench in the corner.

Then the Judge started talking, “It is my ruling that since we don’t have the results to review at this hearing, he waited too long.  I am terminating his parental rights.”

Jeff and I looked from the judge to the social worker, who looked over her shoulder and smiled at us.

That was it.  One sentence, one morning, and the waiting was over.

Gabriel was legally free.

After going through the adoption finalization process, they disclosed everything to us about his birth father that they knew, including that his sister had pushed him into taking the paternity test because she wanted to adopt Gabriel.  But also little things like how much he liked to work on cars.

That little bit of info, combined with the full disclosure of his address, and family’s addresses, has remained on my mind ever since.

Should I contact him?

My gut is yes – I should contact him.  Yes, I should to at least ask questions.  Get photos.

But, there is always so much going on in our lives.  Gabriel struggles so much with autism, sensory processing disorder, bipolar, learning disabilities and more.  Will this just add stress to his life?  Or worse yet, will his birth father understand Gabriel’s challenges?  Accept them?

I always stop shy of contacting him.  I just feel like my ‘plate’ is so full of everything else, and Gabriel’s is too.  I am not sure that either of us could handle it.

But then again, maybe he would just send photos…and when Gabriel starts asking about his biological father (a subject he hasn’t ever brought up at this point), I would have something to show him, and maybe even some answers.

Answers would be good, because I have a lot of questions.  Does Gabe’s birth father have other kids?  Is he thinking of Gabriel?  Does Gabriel look like him?  Does Gabriel act like him?  What is his version of Gabriel’s birth story?

There are times that I see my biological boys with my husband and the resemblance is just uncanny.  From their physical features, to their expressions, mannerisms and way of looking at the world – that I can’t help but think there is a man out there that shares those things with Gabriel.

Don’t I need to find him?  To say something to express my deep gratitude and love for being able to raise a child he created?  I don’t have the words for that, but it seems I should at least start with Happy Father’s Day.

What do you think?

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I’ve played out the end of this surrogacy journey over and over in my head. I planned and prepared very early on to be sad when it was done, and got ripped a new one on a certain surrogacy “support” site for stating that expectation out loud. How dare I? It seemed that the upset was not over that I would be sad, but that I was saying out loud that I expected it. I expect to be sad. There, I said it. I expect to miss being pregnant, miss caring for the babies, miss being that “important person” to someone else. Selfish? Yes. And I expect to miss it. I never had PPD with my children’s pregnancies, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I got a touch of it with this one. And you know what? That’s OK. It’s all part of the journey.

For me ( and only me; disclaimer disclaimer, etc) I would have to be a really unfeeling and shallow person to be able to just hand those new parents their new baby and go on with my life as if nothing had happened. Also, I fully intend to “bond” with these babies ( to an extent). They will know they are loved from the very first moment they are able to feel it. That safe secure feeling of comfort. Why? Because I love them. I can’t emotionally detach myself from these babies, and I really feel like it would be doing them a huge disservice to attempt to do so. They should feel safe and loved, while they are with me. I owe them that. And while the love I feel for them isn’t the same as the love I feel for my children, it is still there. I can’t turn it off. It is the same love I feel for my friends’ children, for my nieces and nephews. It isn’t “this has to be mine” love, but rather “I love that this is yours” love. Does that make even a little bit of sense?

This does NOT mean that I will regret handing them to daddy. On the contrary, handing them to Daddy is the reason I’m doing this! This does NOT mean that I require to be this constant involved person in their lives ( as if that were even possible). It means that I carried them. That I love them. That they changed my life forever and I will never forget them. And when we part for the first time ever, I expect to be sad. Not regretful, but sad.

Is it wrong to expect that? I feel almost safe expecting up front for things to be less then “sunshine and rainbows” for those first few weeks. It can’t sneak up on me and catch me with my guard down. That it would be naive to think anything otherwise. But I’ve had so many “you’ll regret this” and “you’re making a mistake, we know you too well” ( insert my derisive snort here) barbs tossed at me that I almost feel like I’ll have to hide my sadness; Sadness that is normal! And healthy! And expected! I just hope with the time comes that I’m wrong about that assumption; that I’m “allowed” to feel sad without any judgment following.

I wrote that a year ago, twenty weeks pregnant with twin princesses for my wonderful Intended Father. Looking back, I’m glad I was prepared but it turns out that for me, I was OVER prepared. I think about the girls all the time. Their father sends me picture updates at least weekly, we speak on the phone or Skype together often. And I don’t miss them. I love them, I feel incredibly lucky to have been a part of their lives, but I don’t miss them. I see pictures and I want to snuggle them something fierce, but not the same way I feel when I see pictures of my own children as babies. Does that make me unfeeling? Heartless?

I don’t think so. I think it makes me real. Honest. And truthful to myself. I am thoroughly excited about my next surrogacy adventure, and I am really looking forward to truly experiencing all that the journey has to offer, without having to deal with any worries about how I’ll handle and manage the emotions that follow.

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The story opens with Rosa, a young girl, wondering why her mom is so easily upset these days. Her mom shares with her that she is going to have a baby, and that the baby is going to be placed with an adoptive family. The story progresses, with Rosa meeting the prospective adoptive family before the baby was born, and then visiting her younger brother, Sam. The message it conveys is simple–that even though Sam was placed for adoption, Rosa is still his sister.

Does it wrap up nicely? Of course. Does it make open adoption seem easy-peasy? Of course. It’s a children’s book.

It’s a children’s book that works nicely for families in open adoption–both birth families and adoptive families. It is a book that I know Macey and Junior’s birth brother was given at the time of Macey’s placement, and a book I ordered for Macey shortly after she came home. It’s also a good book to introduce the concept of open adoption to cousins, school mates and neighbors who may wonder who Macey is talking about when she mentions Z, or going to see Jane.

It’s always interesting to read this book to Macey–it’s on her bookshelf with dozens of other books, but she does go through phases where she requests it frequently. I can’t wait to see how Junior responds to it.

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I saw a couple walk into the building, and found a parking space. I met my husband in the lot-we had both left work early for this meeting. We made our way in to the lobby and sat down, waiting. There were other people there, and I wondered, “Who was it that picked us? Who was it that wanted to see us in person?”

We were called back, and entered a room especially for this kind of meeting-it was no one’s office, there was no telephone or computer, it was a room for talking, without interruption. We saw our case worker, and the expectant parent caseworker, and then we were introduced to Jane and Geoff.

I had spent no time wondering what they looked like. I was surprised they were both tall. I remember being seated, and making small talk. For as monumental as the moment was, I don’t remember much about how the conversation started. We took turns explaining what brought us to the adoption table.  And after awhile, we were talking easily with each other. We met for about 90 minutes. I remember Jane telling us why she chose our profile. I remember my husband asking Jane and Geoff if they had to make a profile book, what would it look like. I remember, oddly enough, discussing the movie Diary of a Mad Black Woman. Through that conversation, we discovered the fantastic world of Tyler Perry, and every time we watch a movie of his, we bring up the fact that it was Jane and Geoff who turned us on to them.

When we left that meeting, we felt good—good that not only would we be adopting the child ready to arrive, but good that we felt a connection with these expectant parents. That after debating about being “open to open adoption” on our application,  we would be more than willing to venture into an open adoption.  A few days later, we got an email telling us that Jane and Geoff felt the same way.

Four years and two children later, we still have an open relationship.  We know a lot more about each other now, than we did in that first 90 minute meeting. But that first 90 minutes laid the ground work for everything else that was to come.

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The Chinese celebrate Harvest Moon Festival by gathering together with friends and relatives during a meal. It is a time of picnics, puppet shows and fireworks or lit, little red candles. Children sometimes wear pomelo hats , walk around carrying battery-powered lanterns hanging on sticks and hope that the Moon Lady, Chang Er, grants their one-of-a-kind, unforgettable, never-before-heard wishes. Families enjoy eating mooncakes, Rabbit-in-the-Moon cookies and Bubble Tea. Everyone spends their evening eating, drinking and gazing at the moon, looking for Chang Er or the Jade Rabbit, which is the Chinese equivalent of our Man in the Moon.

Most importantly, families spend the time together thinking of relatives far away, whether geographically or in the afterlife. Carrie Kitz, author of We See the Moon, inspired me with these thoughts about the Moon Festival:

The Moon Festival is one of my favorite times of year… In China, it’s also a time where folks wish on the moon to send messages to those who aren’t able to be with them for whatever reason. If there is any time in the year that our children’s birthparents might be thinking of them, this holiday is the one. So in our house, we use the Moon Festival to remember those who aren’t with us right now, but who are a part of our families. We think of aunts, cousins, grandparents, special friends and birth family who are half a world away.

And this sums up why our family celebrates the Mid-Autumn Festival.

But what do we do exactly, since we don’t have authentic knowledge of the traditions and customs? Personally, I think doing something is better than ignoring it all together. So we try. And we learn new things every year. Last year was my first attempt at making bubble tea. The mooncakes were a bust, so we *blush* ate moon pies. (I know, I know.) We’ll be trying again, hopefully with more edible results, but – if not – the back-up moon pies are in the pantry.  We spent some time gazing at the moon, or – in the case of the Tongginator – gazing at the flashlight beam, which for some reason seemed much more interesting.  We also sent out an email yesterday to our family and friends who live far away, reminding them of this Asian holiday and ending with the sentence: “If you have time on Saturday night and the skies are clear, get outside, enjoy the moon, be still for awhile and know that we are thinking about and praying for y’all.”

On Saturday, we will attend a Fall Festival sponsored by our local Families with Children from China chapter. We also have a neighborhood celebration to attend – it’s potluck, so I’ll bring Rabbit-in-the-Moon cookies (recipe found in this book). The Tongginator typically goes to bed by 7:30 every evening, but she’ll stay up later on this special night.

(Did you know that Chinese folklore states that the later one stays up on this night, the longer one’s parents live? Not that this in any way influenced our decision. *cough, cough*)

During our special, past-bedtime family hour, we will read a few books outside, by flashlight, including We See the Moon, The Moon Lady and Round is a Mooncake: A Book of Shapes. We’ll also read two poems by Li Bai about the moon that we found in the book Maples in the Mist: Children’s Poems From the Tang Dynasty as well as this poem:

We are hoping that our new books Moon Festival and Lin Yi’s Lantern arrive in time, but I just ordered them, so we will see.  (The book Moonbeams, Dumplings & Dragon Boats: A Treasury of Chinese Holiday Tales, Activities & Recipes also has a chapter on the Moon Festival, with a few recipes and instructions for making shadow puppets.)  And we’ll probably have a few coloring pages on hand (found here) for the Tongginator, if she’s feeling the urge to color rather than create.

What will y’all do?

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People are often surprised when they learn that our children have the same birth mother. The really curious ones press a little further and want to know if they have the same birth father too (the answer is no). When Jane shared with us that she was expecting in November 2007, we didn’t know that she would ask us to adopt her son. We just knew that regardless of whether she parented, we parented, or she chose someone else to parent, that our daughter would be gaining a sibling.

Macey already has an older brother, Jane’s oldest son. One of the reasons why I think we see each other on a regular basis is that the children get along so well together. They have fun playing, and it’s fun for the adults to watch. We celebrate birthdays and holidays, and at almost 4, Macey’s beginning to grasp that she and her brothers all started out in Jane’s womb.

In April 2008, Jane asked us to adopt the baby she was carrying. As much as it is amazing to be able to raise siblings, no one wants someone they care for to place a child for adoption. Honestly, I’d give my right arm for Jane to get to a place where she felt empowered and secure enough not to relinquish again.

We did say yes because we were ready, willing, and able to adopt this new baby ( an uncooperative baby, I might add, who wouldn’t turn for ultrasound pictures, thus he was “baby” until he arrived). We talked about how Macey’s adoption went, and overall, she said she would do it all that way again. The one thing she wanted to change was that she wanted to wait to sign the relinquishment papers until her day of discharge. She then told us that being in the hospital the extra night without Macey was awful and she didn’t want to do that again. We supported her decision.

Things didn’t quite go the way we anticipated, but a day after Jane and Junior were discharged from the hospital, we met at the adoption agency. She (and Junior’s bio father) had signed the relinquishment papers before we arrived. They stayed with us for awhile, and we took a round of photographs before they left to meet with the counselor with whom they’d been working. We had signed the papers and were feeding Junior before the ride home when we saw them leave the parking lot.

Our relationship with Jane carries on, and we’ve shared Junior’s first year with her, noting the milestones and trials, much like we did with Macey. We will celebrate Junior’s first birthday and Jane’s birthday together at the end of the month.

Many days I stop and pinch myself. I have two amazing children. Two amazing children connected in a way I never envisioned happening. And yes, life is very different that it was just one year ago.

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I think back to when our first child was born. We found out about her two weeks before she was born. We were very happy to have her come into our lives. As new adoptive parents, we celebrated with a burrito at the burrito as big as your head place. We sat there eating our burritos at midnight on a Wednesday night, marveling that we were really going to be parents. How many new parents get to do that on the day their child is born? Although we read the books and watched the videos, nothing prepares you for parenthood more than the real deal. We thought she was the happiest baby that parents could have.

When we got a call that Macey’s birthmother was pregnant again we wondered if lighting could strike twice. What would the second child be like?

Because we survived the first child pretty well, how hard could a second one be? When we get the official word that Jane has asked us to adopt this baby, we were overjoyed. This placement was unexpected, and we were concerned on how we would finance the adoption.

However, as I was leaving the Indianapolis Motor Speedway during the qualifications for the Indianapolis 500, Hallmark was hosting a Daddy of All Dance Offs dance contest for Fathers Day and I was picked as one of the finalists. I won the contest in Indianapolis and took home one thousand dollars. I also won a trip to New York City to dance in the finals against three other dads and a chance at five thousand dollars. What an impact that would make for the adoption fund!

The fact that I couldn’t dance never entered my mind.

I remember calling my dad to set the story straight about me being in a dancing contest before my brothers could. I was convinced I was going to win the contest competing against three other dads who competitively dance. The dancing gods were not on my side and I came in last place. The amount I won between the both contests, however, was the exact amount we needed for our adoption finalization costs. Because Hallmark took such good care of us, I feel guilty if now if our kids make a homemade card.

Junior will always be known as the baby that daddy danced for.

Junior was born a week after we got home from the dance contest, a week after Father’s Day. This placement was not as easy as the first one. We kept praying that everything would work out and eventually it all did and he came home with us. In the past year, Junior has been a joy to our lives. We were surprised to see that a baby could actually be happier than Macey!

Both kids have their days. Some bad, but most of them are pretty good. Everyday I tell them how much I love them even though they are probably tired of hearing it. They may tire of hearing it, but I will never tire of saying it.

Leilan Mc is married to Michelle Mc, and is dad to their two fabulous kids through open, domestic adoption. He has hung up his dancing shoes, and prefers to pull both kids in the bike trailer for exercise.

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