Phoenix

This post is meant to be read in conjunction with our adoption Facebook page, so if you're coming upon it at random, you might want to check that out.  Link's at the bottom.

I'm writing this for a number of reasons.  I'm sure many of you are wondering just what happened to our adoption.  How do these things fall through?  So far, we've not regretted sharing more information instead of less, omitting only enough to protect the privacy of this other family to which we were, and still are, in a way, connected.  Sharing more rather than less has brought us an unanticipated amount of support, for which we are extremely grateful.  It has made a difference.

I also wanted to share this more difficult part of our journey because I know there are waiting families out there who haven't experienced what we did and won't know what it's like.  I'm of the opinion that familiarity breeds preparation.  I think we would have been much worse off if I had not spent the 15 months prior to Will's birth combing the internet for all kinds of adoption stories.  So I'd like to add our story to the mix, in the hopes it prepares other waiting families for the possibility of losing a baby they hoped would be theirs.

Finally, I'm writing this for myself.  In the past 19 days we have spoken with so many people, but there are so many details and nuances that nobody gets the whole story.  I apologize, but this really won't be the whole story, either.  It would take hours to tell, and I have retold it in my mind many times.  As much as we experienced, we have only part of the story, our part.  Many of the details are actually kind of private, things we share with Dick and Jane, and those things we'd rather hold in our hearts just for us.  Here's the rest.

So what happened?

There's some stuff we think is true, but I'll try to stick to the facts.

Will was born Sunday afternoon, five and a half weeks early.  Despite his premature birth, he was quite large and did very well.  He was breathing on his own by Monday, eating on his own by Tuesday and had no need for an IV any longer by Wednesday.  I believe he wound up going home at eight or nine days old.

We were present for the birth, which was awesome.  Okay, Jane may not have thought it was quite so awesome after laboring for 40 hours, but as gigantic, important life experiences go, it was awesome.

Will was sent immediately to the NICU, where he stayed for his entire hospital stay.  Jane was gracious enough to give us one of the two bracelets to gain entry to the NICU, so we were able to see Will on our own whenever we liked.  This is definitely not always the case for adoptive parents.  We continued to see Dick and Jane, too, and even spent time together with the baby.

Life outside the NICU was a whirlwind.  Things we'd been poised and ready to set in motion for weeks or months finally started to move, and they moved quickly.

Jane left the hospital Tuesday afternoon.

On Wednesday morning, we went up to visit Will.  As we were leaving, I noticed a missed call and voicemail from Ashley, our agency counselor.  Her message asked me to call her back, but didn't tell me what she wanted.  I knew then.  I called her back and she confirmed that Dick and Jane had changed their minds and wanted to keep Will.  She said Dick had told her they became aware of resources they didn't know they had that would allow them to parent.  Ashley said she thought this meant family had offered help.  We also think this is true.

I made that call in the hallway outside the NICU ward.  Eric came out as I was talking, listening really.  All I could say in response was "okay, okay, okay."  Thankfully, we didn't get any further.  We were able to walk right back in to say good-bye.  For me, it was as if my brain had taken the call and not yet told my heart what it was about.  As we stepped back into the room and I saw him, my brain broke the news: "This isn't our son."  My heart's response was to try to leap out of my body and cling to the baby and cry "But I love him!"  Sobbing, I insisted Eric take one last picture, we gathered our car seat and bottles and clothes and kissed Will good-bye.

That's what happened.

Were there any signs?

Yes, but what they were isn't easy to pick out.  After leaving the hospital Tuesday, for example, Jane did not reply to communications from us.  You could say this was a sign she was changing her mind, but she could have behaved exactly the same way and still gone through with the adoption.  Leaving him behind, knowing he'd never be coming home to her, would be difficult and I wouldn't blame her for not replying to us right away.  Most of the signs were like that.

The only concrete sign we got was that morning, as we were caring for Will in the NICU.  His nurse made a phone call to ask a question about formula, but whoever was on the other end of the phone obviously already knew Dick and Jane had changed their minds.  The nurse got very quiet and asked "But you're coming up here to talk to them, right?"  I got very agitated upon hearing that, but many things "go wrong" in these situations that wind up not being that big a deal.  Needing to talk to us was no biggie.  When the nurse didn't ask us to leave right then and nobody came to talk to us for the time we remained there, nearly an hour, we relaxed.  When the nurse informed us of Will's impending transfer to a different NICU ward, told us how to find it and packed up our belongings for the move, we were reassured.  Then I looked at my phone.

Human behavior is complex, and in adoption I feel like it's at its most complex.  Two situations can be virtually identical, and the outcomes could still be opposite.  All the signs can point in one direction, but your journey may lie in the other direction.

Do you still talk to Dick and Jane?

We are still in contact with Dick and Jane, yes.  We do not have the relationship we thought we'd have, of course.  We might see more of them in time, but for now, we think a little distance is better.  We had weeks to define our relationship as adoptive parents and birth parents; now we don't have those roles and what our new relationship will be remains to be seen.

Really, the way we found out, from the counselor at the agency of our own choosing, the people we talk to the most and who we trust most, was the best way.  I am glad we were alone for that moment, and its timing, giving us the opportunity to say good-bye, was perfect.

We are happy to know the baby is doing well and that they are thrilled to have him.  We have learned that they, along with Will and their older son, are finally able to live together as a family.  For that, we're very, very pleased for them.

Do they still call him Will?

No.  Almost since their first contact with us, we had separate names for him.  They're using the name they'd planned for his birth certificate all along.  We call him Will in part to recognize what he means to us, and in part to protect the privacy of their family by not using his real name.

Does this mean you have to start all over?

Here starts the metabolizing of this event.

Factually, kind of, sort of, but not really.  We do have to keep our home study current and will have to do an update in the spring, something we weren't going to have to worry about when we were counting on this placement to happen.  It's not as bad as a full home study, though, and our profile remains the same.

We do have to simply wait for another expectant mother to contact us.  In that way, it does feel like starting all over.  With time, distance and a lot of experiences under my belt, I can see I wasn't in such a fantastic place when Jane first contacted us.  She really changed everything.  Now we're back to the not so great place, but we're not the same and trying to do it better.

How do you feel?

The million dollar question!

There are times when remembering the past month seems to be all I can see, like a wall so high we cannot climb it.

The truth is, however, that the wall is tall and we cannot climb it (we cannot change their minds), but the wall is not whole and we will find a way around it (as parents to a different baby.)  We don't know when we'll find that next gap in the wall, but we have to keep walking.  If we don't, we'll never find our way past this wall to our son or daughter.

Mostly, I feel good.  It seems really soon to say that, there are still tough times, but that's how I feel.  This might sound strange to you, who know only us and not Dick and Jane, but I think the right thing happened.  Dick and Jane very much wanted this baby, however unplanned the pregnancy might have been, but they felt they couldn't provide enough to both their children to justify keeping Will.  Then circumstances changed, and their decision changed with it.  If a baby is wanted and his parents are able to provide for him, why on earth should an adoption happen?  In their shoes, I would have made the same choice.  Knowing that takes away the feeling of purposelessness to our hurt.

And there are actually a lot of good things about these unfortunate events.  To me, they seem to fall into two categories.

It could have been worse . . .

We could have gone home with Will and introduced him to everyone in person.  This would have made giving him back much harder.  Though we shared as much as we could, the hospital would not allow us to bring visitors to the NICU until we had legal custody.  In a way, unintentionally, that prevented some heartache.

We could have gone to court.  This would have given Eric legal custody of Will.  Jane and Dick could still have changed their mind, but it would have been much more complicated a scenario.

We could have lost a lot of money.  We didn't.  Though adoptive parents often do pay some expenses for the birth family, Dick and Jane asked for nothing.  We had a small budget for this to begin with; now we can potentially use that for another birth family and our options are no more limited than they were before.  The only money we "lost" was $650 paid to our Virginia agency for a counseling session with Dick, Jane and ourselves and the report they wrote for the court, which obviously can't be transferred to the next birth family.  Despite meeting with us twice, providing extensive advice by phone and securing the services of another attorney for Dick and Jane, our attorney has charged us nothing.  Though we want to maintain Dick and Jane's privacy, they were a local family, meaning we didn't have to travel.  No flights, no hotels, no rentals.

We could be down one income.  I quit my job, impatient and misinformed by my company's policies regarding leave and FMLA.  I begged, there was lots of crying (not just my own) and I got my job back.  I appreciate it a lot more, and though I still wish this baby had been The One, every paycheck I earn means more savings and puts us in a better position to accept even more situations we might not have been otherwise able to consider, regarding birth family expenses, travel, additional agencies and attorneys, etc.

(Funny story here.  Well, funny now.  Several people have continued to congratulate us, not having heard about the change of plans.  Don't feel bad about this.  Facebook is squiffy with what it shows to people, not everyone hears about everything, it's okay.  Trust me, you can't be any worse than the hospital, who called an hour after we got home to discuss the bill.  It was a very polite Fuck No.)

We could have had to make a hundred phone calls.  Somehow, everyone but the attorney found out before we did, but that was good.  Other than calling our parents and siblings, we were able to simply post to Facebook what had happened and that and our families took care of the rest.

We could have thought this was hard.  The whole process, that is.  (Losing the baby WAS hard!  Still is.)  Yet the truth is that Dick and Jane are terrific.  They were respectful and excited for us.  They (almost) never inserted any unnecessary drama into our lives.  (Thinking of the birthday party here!)  We hear of matches where expectant parents qualify as minor hurricanes and either the adoptive parents have to walk away, or deal with it, and they still might not be able to adopt that baby in the end.  This was not what our match was like at all.

We could have been deceived.  This most definitely happens, but this was not the case this time.  We believe Dick and Jane were entirely sincere in their plan to place Will for adoption up until their circumstances changed.  Though we don't know for sure, we suspect we know when this offer of help came about and it was only after the baby's birth.  They didn't drag anything out.  We appreciate that.

We could be sorry, but . . .

This actually made us better.

In many ways, we actually grew.  I wouldn't take any of it back.  If on September 5th, when Jane first emailed us, you had told me that in December, she would choose to parent her son, if you had also told me what those weeks getting to know them would be like, what it would be like to see this child being born, what it would be like to be a parent to him, even if only for three days, I would do it all over again.

Though we would not have told you there was any doubt in our minds about adopting, maybe because we didn't recognize it, now we know for sure this is what we want to do.  Going back to waiting is HARD, but now we know what we're waiting for.  We were parents for three days and it felt incredible.  There is no doubt in our minds anymore that we can love a child who was not born to us and be ready and willing to give him or her everything we have.

We are kinder, more patient with one another and more committed to supporting one another through our wait.  That would have been worth it right there.

Overall, we gained confidence.  Dick and Jane were great, and they picked us.  Their decision to parent their son does not mean they found us wanting.  They picked us, and someone else will pick us, too.  We no longer feel that overwhelming nervousness we did when we first spoke with Dick and Jane.  We are even more ready to be ourselves and let our personalities shine through.  We successfully navigated one match and we can do it again.  We're infinitely more prepared practically when it comes to knowledge of processes and policies.  We know what really needs to be rushed and what can wait.  We know we can care for a very tiny baby without breaking it!!!

What can I do to help?

Things are looking up.  It's easier and easier to get excited about our adoption again.  We've decided not to use Will as a name again and have come up with a super cool new boy's name.  We hope we have a better take on how to handle our wait.  We're able to look back and not regret the past.  In life, I think it unwise to try to avoid pain.  People spend their entire lives trying to avoid being hurt; they aren't happy and they aren't usually successful at avoiding the hurt.  We don't regret loving Will or opening our lives to Dick and Jane.  We faced our fear, now we'll face our pain.  Though at first we hesitated to share our adoption progress (or lack thereof) for fear of hurting others and being embarrassed, the support we've gotten tells us being open is not just for after the baby arrives.  By sharing, when the unthinkable happened, you were there for us.  Keep doing what you're doing.  Like our Facebook adoption page (links at the bottom) if you haven't already done so.  Like our silly statuses!  Encourage others you know to like it, too.  We appreciate every tiny murmur of support we get.

Not saying that this will happen to us, but as we were living this experience, another couple had something remarkable happen.  On Monday, the day after Will was born, this couple decided the expectant mom with whom they were matched had crossed the line of acceptable behavior and they chose to unmatch.  They posted about it on Facebook.  A friend saw that post.  That friend put their information through two other people to a new mother who lived hundreds of miles away from either one.  She chose them to adopt her baby.  It all took less than 48 hours.  Things can change that fast.

So if you feel comfortable, share our FB page or our online profile.  Tell your friends about us so that if they encounter someone who encounters someone who is considering adoption for her child, she might consider us.  This child will have a village, ready and waiting.

Online profile: http://www.iheartadoption.org/users/ericandchris

Facebook page: Open Adoption for Eric and Chris (Facebook)

Matched!

On Tuesday, September 4th, we went to bed like usual and, as had also become usual, I was feeling disappointed that we still had received zero contacts from expectant moms considering placing their babies for adoption.  I wondered if anyone would ever contact us.  I wondered if we would wait for years, watching the enthusiasm slowly fade from the eyes of our friends and family, and I wondered if our enthusiasm would also wane then.  If that sounds morose, it was.

On Wednesday, September 5th, we woke up in a different universe.  I sat down at my computer with my coffee and almost choked: the email I'd been checking for five months finally had a message.  I think Eric thought I was playing a prank on him when I called him on his way to work to read the message out loud to him, but it was real.

The past two weeks have been a blur, but the news is good.  We're matched!  We're sure you have lots of questions.  I (Chris) am going to try to cover some of them here.

OMG, you're matched!  Congratulations!  Wait, what does that mean?

 It means that, to the best of anyone's ability to determine the future, an expectant mother has chosen us to adopt her baby and we have agreed to do so.

So this is a for sure thing?

Yes and no.  This does mean that we won't be talking to any other expectant moms who contact us and this expectant mom won't be searching for any other families.  It is not, however, a done deal.

Think of matching like an engagement.  Most engagements end in marriages.  Most folks go into an engagement fully intending to get married.  Yet not all engagements end in marriage.  Either partner can break it off.  The same is true of matching.  That's not meant to be scary, just realistic.

Why are you sharing if it might not happen?  Aren't you worried you'll be disappointed?

The worry of disappointment never completely leaves the mind of any adoptive parent until things really are certain.  We can't deny that.  We have, however, chosen not to let fear lead us.  We can be afraid or we can face our fears and love this little boy like we do already.  We could try and pretend not to, but we know that wouldn't be true, or right.  He deserves our love, even now.

He?!  It's a boy?!

Yes, it's a boy.  (insert gigantic smileys here)

When's he due?  Who's the mom?  Where's the dad?  Are they married?  What's their race?  Where do they live?  How old are they?  Are they space aliens?

No on the space aliens.

The baby is due January 16, 2013.

Both the expectant mother and father are involved in the adoption plan.

They live in Virginia, within a day's drive of Roanoke.

Virginia?!  That's awesome!  Doesn't that make things easier?

Yes and no.

It means our primary agency, IAC, who we like and trust, will not be able to assist us as much as they might otherwise do if the expectant mom were in a state where there's an IAC office.

On the other hand, our son being born in Virginia means we will be able to bring him straight home once he's in our custody.  There will be no lengthy, expensive, inconvenient waiting period in another state.  This is a big plus!

And the rest of the questions . . . ?

Unfortunately, that's all you get.  We totally get your curiosity, we really do, but the details of the expectant family's lives are theirs to tell, not ours.  Protecting their privacy is part of our respect for them, a respect they've returned and which is necessary, we believe, for forming a long-term relationship with one another for everyone's benefit, especially our son's.  Ultimately, what we'd like from you is your continued support and all that other stuff isn't important for that.        

We really like the expectant parents as we've gotten to know them so far.  We hope that someday their involvement in our family's lives will mean that some of you will get to know them, too.  Until then, you'll have to satisfy yourself with the pleasure of knowing us!

Baby names?

I'm a real Billy Big Mouth when it comes to secrets, but that's one that's remained tightly under wraps and will continue to be so until we introduce our new son to you.  

 Are you having a shower?

Most likely, but not until the baby comes home and the revocation period has ended.  

What's the revocation period?  Will you be able to be there for the birth?  When does the baby come home?  When will you know for sure?

Heyyy, we just matched!  Take it easy!  Questions regarding the birth are best saved until after it happens.  At this point, most of those decisions are yet to be made.  We can't say it enough: we value your support and enthusiasm.  We'll keep you updated!

Interview with an Ayla

Whatchu doin'?

This interview is intended for our adoption Facebook page.  If you haven't seen it yet, you can find it here.

Though our house has several four-legged inhabitants, none defines our household quite so much as Ayla.  She's the boss, the #1, but also sensitive, loyal and gentle.  To better help you get to know her, we sat down for a tea and a biscuit.

Dads: Thanks, Ayla, for taking the time to sit down with us and answer some questions.

Ayla: Technically, I've been glued to your side since you got home from the gym, so it really wasn't much of a bother.  But you're welcome.

Dads: Terrific.  So, let's start at the beginning.  How did you join our family?

Ayla: Wendy found me at a garbage dump next to a trailer park.  Eric thought I'd make a good companion for his little poodle, Maria.

Dads: Did you?

Ayla: Maria wasn't a fan, but fortunately Eric was and I got to stay anyway.

Rip roarin' ready to play!

Dads: What does your name mean?

Ayla: I'm told it's Turkish for "moon."  I'd better Google that and make sure it's correct before you put it in print . . . well, it's close enough.

Dads: So you've known Eric longer than any of the rest of us, right?  Even Stanley?

Ayla: That's right.

Dads: So how old would you be, then?

Ayla: A lady never reveals her true age, but I'm a dog, so I'm not sure that applies.  I'm about nine years old.

Dads: Nine?!  We'd never know it!  You've got the energy of a teenager!

Ayla: Thanks.  It's all natural.

Dads: Speaking of running around, what are your hobbies?

Ayla: Well, I enjoy Going for Long Walks, Rolling Around, Chasing Bunnies and Playing with My Friends.

This feels soooo good!

Dads: Have you ever caught a bunny?

Ayla:  Not a bunny, but a squirrel once.  It was my finest moment.

Dads: Who are you friends?

Ayla: Fritz and Stanley and Marley.  I like to play Bite Your Feet with the boys, but Marley and I are rough and tumble girls and we like to play Chase and Tackle.  Sometimes I like to tease Fritz with I'm Gonna Steal Your Toy.  I also like to play with the human boys in the house behind ours and their little dog.

Whatever I am, I am beautiful.

Dads: What kind of dog are you?

Ayla: I am a Medium-sized Black Dog.  I have purple on my tongue, a very short, solid black coat, a high-pitched bark and a very strong tail.  Your guess is as good as mine.

 Dads: Any fears?

Thunder is scary.

Ayla: I hate thunderstorms.

Dads: Are you looking forward to having a baby human around?

Playing tug of war with my human cousin, Darren.

Ayla: Yes.  I'm looking forward to someone with more stamina who can chase me around the backyard longer than you guys can.

Dads: Sorry, you run really fast!

I run really fast, even in the dark, in the snow!

Ayla: I don't deny it.

Dads: What would you tell someone considering us to be the family for their baby?

Ayla: Love has made us a family, and love can make us your family.  We may not be rich, but this we have in abundance.

Dads: Thanks again, Ayla.  Ummm, is it time for a walk?

Ayla: The W word!  Oh, yes, yes, yes!

Even doggie track stars get tired sometimes.

 

Is Today the Day?

I wake up every morning with this question: will she find us today?

My apologies for the lack of entries since, well, my last one.  This blog served its purpose, to allow me to relate and explain and reason out loud (so to speak) all the various ideas chasing one another's tails inside my head in regards to our adoption.  Having gotten them out, I didn't have anything to say for awhile.

Since then, things have moved right along.  Long story short, we went "live" on April 5th.  For anyone interested, here's the link to our profile:

http://www.iheartadoption.org/users/ericandchris

Spread it far and wide, friends.  Don't be shy.  Don't feel like you're invading or protecting our privacy.  When in doubt, give it out.  (I totally stole that line from an employee of the Sacramento Food Bank.)

The whole thing, the adoption, feels completely different now.  The process leading up to going live, the background checks, the home study, writing that gosh darn letter, it all seems so far away, though just a month ago we were thoroughly wrapped in it.  In its midst, we were surprised and frustrated, we were elated and we got angry, we got excited and we felt disappointed, the whole gamut of emotions.

Then it's over and I realize it's only just begun.  While challenging, having overcome that challenge, it seems like small fry now.  Of course we got through it.  We can totally handle that stuff.

Or so we say now!

So now we wait.  We have our profile on two sites.  We have paper versions of those profiles in circulation with our agency's six offices and a few already among family and friends.  We have an 800 number and an e-mail address.  For now, that's enough.

For those families who wind up waiting a long time, I often hear about the difference between passive and active waiting.  Active waiting means continually searching out ways to be more visible.  It is sometimes effective (sometimes not) and often exhausting.  In an attempt to learn from the trials of others, we've decided passive waiting is our modus operandi for the moment.  Our agency is already doing its job to make us visible.  For so many families, this works, so we decided to start there.  We don't want to exhaust ourselves in incessant efforts to be noticed that might not work.  This could take a long time.  Best not to burn ourselves out so quickly.

Best not to run out of ideas, either.  I sense in those long-waiting families a feeling of helplessness.  They've tried everything and no baby, so what else can they do?  They've already tried everything.  We've decided to hold back on everything.  Instead, once a month, on the 5th, we're planning to do one thing to make ourselves more visible, send our profile to one more place that might have dealings with women considering adoption.

This way, if it turns out we have a short wait, we don't make it unnecessarily painful or tiring.  If it turns out we have a long wait, we build up our strategy to get noticed a little at a time, always leaving us more to do and gradually introducing us to the increased effort and anxiety of active waiting.

Believe me, every time I read the stringent words of an adoptive parent still waiting after many months, I wonder if that will be me.  What could I do differently?  Even with identical circumstances, how could I handle that differently?  Can I?

I hear the stories of families with short waits, too.  Like it or not, half the families with our agency wait less than a year.  It puts me into an outright panic to think it could be so soon, though I know we're ready and am anxious to meet my son or daughter.

Which will be us?

Is today the day?

Is she dialing the phone right now?

I suppose this is something like what expectant parents go through.  After all, there's no telling exactly when Junior will decide to make his entrance.  Well, within a certain range.

For me, I wake every morning acutely aware that today could be an incredibly important day.  Every evening closes with a tinge of disappointment that it wasn't today.

For anyone considering adoption themselves, when you hear that waiting will be anticlimactic after the hustle and bustle of preparation to get you there, believe it.  Don't get me wrong, I feel really good and I still feel very lucky that this is just the beginning of our emotional wait and that we are not a family whose wait began years ago when they expected to get pregnant without any trouble.  It's just a little surreal to know that the difference between this day and The Day is so very, very small.

Though I don't suppose most folks will read this, thank you to all who've been so supportive on Facebook.  It really is heartwarming to post an update and see so many people wishing us well.  Hopefully we'll have more to share soon.

This Explains a Lot

I just finished reading Ann Fessler's The Girls Who Went Away this week.  It's not what I'd planned for my next entry here, but I'm discovering that it's best to let the juices flow when they want to and to save the canned ideas for when the juices run dry.

It's hard for me to categorize Fessler's book.  It's non-fiction.  It's sociological.  It has to do with adoption.  Those are the things I can say with certainty.

Fessler is an artist and an adoptee.  Her mother is also an adoptee.  Fessler has used art, photography and film to capture the experience of adoption for many years.  This book, she tells, began when a woman stopped her in an exhibition.  She'd noticed that Fessler looked just like her.  She had placed a daughter for adoption who would be about the same age.  Was she that baby girl?

She wasn't, but, of course, she is someone's baby girl that they gave up decades ago.  The more she snooped, the more women like the one in the art gallery she discovered.

In a nutshell, between the end of World War II and the legalization of abortion in 1973 with the Roe v. Wade case, an extraordinary number of women surrendered babies for adoption.  They number over a million.  To give you an idea of how large the scope was, these figures are from Fessler's book.  In these decades, 40% of unmarried white women who became pregnant would surrender their child.  By comparison, 1.5% of black women did the same, and that rate has remained the same for black women since.  Today's surrender rate for unmarried white women is similar to that of black women.  How did this happen?

Fessler chronicles the societal forces at work in The Girls Who Went Away.  A growing number of white Americans were reaching middle class status after the war, a status they felt the need to reinforce constantly with appearances.  Attitudes about sex were changing among young people, but the world they lived in was still that of their parents.  There was no birth control for unmarried women, paltry sex education and no accountability for the men and boys who played their part.  To keep up appearances, young women had to play the part of virgins even if they were not; no one would discuss sex with them.  The stigma of an unwed mother was unbearable.  The social work professionals of the time believed the young woman was to blame, that she was unfit to raise a child.  Her parents sought to hide the problem.  The girl or woman knew nothing of her options or her rights and were completely vulnerable.

Fessler's book features quotes and many lengthy stories told by the women who once went away as girls, to have their babies in secret and give them away.  Some did not know sex would result in pregnancy.  Many more did not know how the baby would leave their body.  Most did not receive emotional support from their families.  The vast majority were manipulated into surrendering their children.  They were told by their families that they could not return home with their children; they were told by maternity homes that they would have to pay back their stay there if they did not surrender; they were told by agencies they had no rights, though this was a lie.  (I was very surprised to discover revocation periods existed even then!)


Everyone told them to go home, go on and forget.  No one would talk to them about what they'd lost.


You might be thinking, given my masochistic tendencies when it comes to reading adoption sob stories, that I would be crazy to read this book.  I disagree.  The reason I read this book was to help me understand the loss of a birth mother.  No, our birth mother will not be coerced away from her child.  If I even begin to suspect that might be the case, I'll be only too glad to walk away.


The women in The Girls Who Went Away, however, talk very openly about how surrendering their child affected their lives.  Although the circumstances will not be the same, any one of them could be the woman whose child we adopt.  Hearing their stories makes me feel a little more prepared to be someone she can talk to about it.  I, being her child's new parent, might not be the best person, but it would be selfish of me not to try.


What I didn't expect to get from the book was the historical perspective I got.  We so often hear about "returning to family values."  We hear about "nuclear families."  It's easy to forget that that is not how things always were.  It was an ideal conceived during this same time period: perfect house, perfect car, perfect job, perfect marriage, perfect kids, perfect life.  Who wouldn't be happy?


Except, it doesn't sound like very many people were happy at all with trying to shove their size 12 lives into size 6 shoes.


For the older generation who came up with this ideal, it was just that, an ideal, something to strive for.


For their children, this was no "ideal."  It was reality.  That's why they're so desperate to go back to it, even if it's not really realistic and it never really existed.  Life was different then.  Nobody got divorced, right?  So everybody who wanted to was unhappy and those who did disappeared.  Nobody got pregnant out of wedlock, right?  Those girls disappeared, too, and their babies with them.  The Girls Who Went Away shows just how well that worked.


Now those same folks are in power.  It explains a lot.


If they could history textbooks like Fessler has written this book, we might actually learn something.


This also explains a lot for me about attitudes toward adoption.


Couples were supposed to have children, and those who were "forced" to go the adoption route were to be pitied.  Although it surely doesn't explain all the reticence, I think this attitude, either internally or externally, keeps a lot of couples striving for biological children long after they want to and rules out adoption for folks who would otherwise be open to it.  Adoptive parents are touched on only briefly in Fessler's book, but it seems society was putting such pressure on the "family" model that folks were marrying who shouldn't have and having children who shouldn't have.  Couples who couldn't have children turned to adoption in not a completely dissimilar way to that of the birth mothers of the children they would adopt.  It's like supply and demand when neither side really wants to supply or demand, but feels like they have to.


Birth mothers were supposed to be irresponsible and dangerous.  You might be surprised at how pervasive this idea still is.  You might be surprised at the resistance we've encountered to the idea of an open adoption and contact with our child's birth parents.  You might be one of those people who had that reaction . . . The truth is, I counted up the number of women I've known who I know for sure became pregnant out of wedlock.  It was more than a dozen, just in my own life.  I'm only 30.  All those women chose to raise their children, but I can see how, for some, if circumstances had been just a little different(no birth father involvement, no family support, no job), they might have made a different choice.  These women in my life are no different from those in Fessler's book.  Are these women irresponsible and dangerous?


Most of all, I understand why adoption feels so ominous.  Look at where it's coming from!    Since the beginning of our adoption process, I've felt uneasy.  It's so hazardous, so cloudy, it's so easy to go astray.

I think people knew.  They knew what was going on.  They thought it was right because they were told so, but deep down they knew it wasn't.  Not everybody, no, but enough people to make it a phenomena that became a part of our culture.  When I say "We're adopting . . . " people hear "We're stealing a girl's baby."  I suddenly understand why there are people who oppose adoption altogether.  I understand why adoptees are often hesitant to search or reunite.  I understand why birth mothers are as rare as gold when panning for insight from all sides of adoption.


I can't tell you we won't do it that way.  I'll simply have to prove it to you, to our child and his or her birth mother.

The legacy of these practices is that I feel like I've got something to prove, to prove I'm not one of Them.


For what it's worth, I'm definitely not a Them.

I highly recommend The Girls Who Went Away by Ann Fessler.  Even if you have zero connection to adoption, well, you probably do after all.  There is almost certainly someone you know who was touched back then by this.  I'm certain you'll learn about someone in your life from these women's stories.

Oh How the Time Goes By

It's been four weeks since I last posted an entry.  This blog thing is still a little shaky for me.  I was excited at first to find that I was ready to post weekly; then I was disappointed when that petered out.  I can only chalk it up to one thing, though: I got what I needed.  I really needed to put my thoughts out there and not keep them jumbled up in my head.  I really wanted to have an entirely one-sided conversation, such as one has with a computer screen, where I got to say everything on my mind and the screen just listened.  Once I got those thoughts out, I found I didn't feel the need to share quite so much.  So, like so many, this will most likely be a every now and then kind of blog, rather than the weekly (or more frequent) stuff that good guys put out.

We're actually further from our goal that we were, so to speak.


Here's why.

We have to do fingerprints for background checks.  We did these way back in September and sent them off.  The week after Christmas our home study agency gets back to us to say they were done incorrectly and we'll need to do them again.  They graciously send us new fingerprint cards free of charge and instructions.

When we received these instructions, it became very clear what had happened.  Neither of us had set eyes on this sheet of paper before, but when we included it with the original packet of information from the agency, it became clear it was meant to have been included there.  That omission meant we didn't receive any instructions as to how to do our fingerprints.  No wonder we got it wrong.

As it turns out, we were supposed to mail the fingerprint cards to the agency, which would mail them where they needed them to go.  Without that information, we turned to the information our primary agency had given us and mailed them directly to the FBI.  Here I have to accept a little of the responsibility for this mix-up for ourselves: if we weren't sure, we should have asked.  As with so many things in adoption, though, everybody does it a little differently.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still pretty upset with our home study agency.  It doesn't take a genius to put all the right pieces of paper in an envelope, and of all the items to omit, it had to be in regards to the process that took a long period of time to complete.  Also, we told them it was coming, so when it didn't show up and continued to not show up for three months, you think someone might have said something, but nooooo.  So I say we can take 25% of the blame and the agency deserves 75%.


I wish I could say this was atypical for them, but this has pretty much been how things have been with them since the start.  I still have complete confidence in their ability to finish our home study, but I'm willing to bet this won't be our last trifling delay.  Thankfully, this agency actually does very little itself.  The social worker it has assigned to us is awesomesauce and definitely makes this as easy as possible.  She and we do the work.


Still, this means that we will have to wait as much as another three months for this fingerprints to come back.  We need them to complete our home study.  I tell myself this is fine.  With Eric's dissertation defense next week, it was probably a little ambitious to try to be in the books by then.  This will give the both of us time to really finish things up together and really get ready.


Oh, and those second fingerprints?  We mailed them off and forgot to sign them.  100% our bad.  This time the agency was right on the ball, returned them to us immediately and we sent them back with signatures.


Oops.


Lest you think there has been no progress in four weeks, that isn't true.  Along with the cover photo for our Dear Birth Parent letter, we also have completely approved text and supporting photos.  Now just to design that letter and our website.  A really good way to spend three months, if you ask me . . .


So that's where we are as we approach the date (Jan. 26) that we'd originally intended to be in the books.  It's okay that we're not ready.  Unlike so many others who are going through the same process, this is not the second half of a longer journey through infertility.  For us, this is still very new and we still have lots of patience and energy.  A few more months will only allow us more time to prepare.  I've read of interims much longer than this between the beginning of the process and "in the books."


Something thought-provoking happened during our second fingerprint session.  I think I'll make that the topic of my next entry.  I hope everyone had a happy holiday and thanks for reading!

E-mom v. B-mom

Modern Family has to be one of the most incredible shows currently on television.  It attacks so many social issues without the least little bit of seriousness whatsoever, pointing out amid the laughter that the labels we have are the least likely thing to make us totally weird.  We're just totally weird, all of us, no matter who we love or where we live or what color our dog is.


On Mother's Day, Mitchell (played by Jesse Tyler Ferguson) surprised his partner Cameron (Eric Stonestreet) with breakfast in bed.  Cam threw a fit, accusing Mitchell of seeing him as the "mother" of Lily, their young daughter.  The couple proceeded to waltz their way through an episode that showed us that, however melodramatic, that Cam was absolutely right.  Not only Mitchell, but everyone around them viewed Cam as Lily's "mother."

To be fair, Mitchell isn't the only one.  Relationships often divide along unequal dichotomies.  It's hard for any one person to be everything.  When we become a unit with another person, we don't need to be everything.  They can be half of everything, and we can be the other half.  It helps us be a stronger unit because now the unit as a whole has many more strengths than either person might have individually.


Also to be fair, Mitchell made a very good point to Cam: our society just doesn't have the vocabulary yet to describe what we are.  Eric and I have thought endlessly about what to have our child call us.  Despite quite literally months of thinking, we have yet to come to satisfying monikers.  I would love to come up with a cool new word that our child could use and that would catch on like wildfire among GLBT parents, but let's face it, I'm just not that cool.

But gay dads aren't the only thing society doesn't necessarily have the right words for.


Recently, I read a topic on an adoption forum expressing disdain of the adoption vocabulary used earlier that day in another topic.  The original poster had used "birth mother" instead of "expectant mother."


Terrible, isn't it?


Actually, it's not terrible.


First off, they actually probably used "birthmother."  I don't like that as a single word for two reasons.  1) I have yet to find a spell check that recognizes it, and 2) we don't write adoptiveparent.  I'd rather separate the words to demonstrate on paper that this person is a parent (or a mother or a father) first and foremost.  The "birth" or "adoptive" alters and further clarifies the relationship between the adult and the child.  It clarifies it, but it doesn't define them.  To use "birthmother" makes it seem as if this is a title like "sex offender" that the woman must always carry.  Surely she's allowed to identify herself in other ways?

I do, however, support the use of the term birth mother in general, despite the popular adoption masses who now clamor for "expectant mother."  I may not be very popular with my choice, but rest assured I'm not trying to be a jerk.  As always, when you choose your words carefully, you'll convey your meaning with more accuracy, provided your listeners are not ostriches and stick their heads in the proverbial sand in their effort to drown out your outdated vocab.

I don't like the term "expectant mother."  That she is, of course.  But she won't always be.  The "expectant" camp argues that she is just any other person, she hasn't yet made a permanent decision to place her child for adoption, and only if she does can she be a "birth mother."  Here's my problem with that: she's considering adoption.  She's not just considering it casually, either.  If she's gotten to the point where someone, an adoptive parent or an agency or an attorney, is calling her an "expectant mother" and really referring to her consideration of adoption, she's much further along than a casual weighing of options.  Adoption is part of her life, at least for the time being.  Even if her decision is ultimately to parent, it will be an adoption decision.


"Expectant mother" treats her like any other pregnant woman.  Believe me, she deserves just as much respect as any other pregnant woman, but like I said above, "e-mom" is still referring to her consideration of adoption, it's just trying to gloss over it.  In an era of greater openness and transparency in adoption, why take a step backward and use a term that ignores the fact that this woman is considering adoption?


Why do I think "birth mother" is better?  It identifies the relationship she will have with her child, always, whatever her final decision may be.  We all have a birth mother.  Every one of us.  Most of us know her as our only mother, so the use of additional words isn't necessary.  No other woman will ever be her child's birth mother.  I can never be our child's birth father.  She won't always be pregnant and "expectant."  She will always have given birth to this child.  Unlike other words (popular among the anti-adoption crowd), like "original" and "natural," birth mother is simply a statement of fact.  You can have birth parents and be raised by them and they can be awful.  You can have birth parents and be raised by someone else and your birth parents can be wonderful.


That they are birth parent doesn't make them less.  When I hear "expectant mother," I feel like the person who uses it subscribes internally to the idea that birth parents are less important somehow, and probably disagrees with the statement and uses "e-mom" to compensate.

There are probably times when "e-mom" is appropriate.  Her doctor, for example, is treating a pregnant woman and is concerned with her health and that of the baby.  Her adoption decision (either way) is not primary there.  Strangers out in public would call her "e-mom."  But if she's been talking with me (or anyone else) about adopting her baby, for me she's not just another pregnant lady.


I choose to use birth mom because it recognizes both the reality of her situation and respects her importance in her child's life always at the same time.  It's an imperfect term as well, however.  Our society doesn't yet have the vocabulary for us.


And I still don't know what to have the baby call us!