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!
Monday, December 19, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
The Lives of Others
It took hours last night to fall asleep. My brain was latched on to something and wouldn't let go. This isn't really anything new for me. Since I was very small I've had difficulty falling asleep. This particular subject made it much worse than usual, though. What's worse is that it isn't really something I can just push away. I feel it deserves my attention.
We're really only still in the beginning of our adoption. With our home study halfway finished, we're closing in on the middle part, the waiting. So I'm not exactly an expert yet. But I'll tell you what I think is the hardest part of adoption: hearing about other adoptions.
What's the most helpful thing in an adoption? Hearing about other adoptions.
Yes, those are the same thing. It's like that.
A little over three months ago, as we were about to sign on with IAC, I got the itch to learn more. Up until that time, it had all been about Eric and I communicating with each other, it had been a personal search and a private decision. I know a handful of people who are adopted, and one adoptive parent. My friends who were adopted were born between 30 and 70 years ago, all of them adopted in closed adoptions. My friend who is an adoptive parent adopted internationally. The point being that while I very much value what they have to share, I also wanted to find people in situations like mine.
Ah, the internet. So much information. So much of it plain wrong. Some entirely irrelevant. Some of it occasionally correct. And it's really hard to tell which is which.
The truth is that the same adoptive family could adopt twice from the same birth parents and using the same agency. Everything about the two adoptions could be identical on paper, and yet the experiences of everyone involved could be completely different for each adoption.
So trying to find what's useful to you in a situation that's only somewhat similar to yours is kind of like seeing someone else winning the lottery and running out to buy tickets using the same numbers they chose. Those numbers will probably get you nowhere.
And yet . . . they played the lottery and they won. Few people know better.
And so I feel compelled to read about the lives of others.
IAC has its own forum just for clients who have officially signed on with them. It's awesome to have such a place. It's the only place I feel safe posting in addition to reading. On other sites, I feel like I have nothing to share because we're still so near the beginning. On the IAC forum, it's easy to see how each and every user was once in our shoes at the same point in the road. The other adoptive parents there are also exceptionally helpful and understanding.
Yet it would be unwise of me to ignore the experiences of those outside our agency. There are more than 300 families on the books with IAC; perhaps 15-20 post regularly. Its forum is a useful emotional and informational tool, but it certainly doesn't have all the answers.
On other sites, though, there exists the possibility of anyone coming along and saying anything they like. And believe me, if it can be said, they will say it. I had no idea there were anti-adoption people out there. They are insane. I still read their stuff, so I know what the worst case scenario might be with people I may come across in my life. Occasionally, I find small glimmers of a good point in their raving.
Most of what I find is helpful. Other adoptive parents, sometimes birth parents and occasionally adoptees chime in to inform others. I've gotten to experience vicariously the uncertainty of a contact and the elation of a match, the excitement of the birth and, yes, the bitter disappointment of a reclaim. Contrary to what you might think, these stories really help. I see others dealing more or less successfully with their disappointment and I discover their strategies for coping and learn which might help me most should we face that same disappointment. The fear of a birth mother reclaiming her child is diminishing. Should that happen, it will be disappointing, of course, but we don't want a child whose mother wants to parent him. At the end of the day, we'll know she will grieve, we'll know that she will probably wish things could happen differently, but at the end of the day I still want to know she feels she made a good choice. We can't know if it was the "right" choice, but if it was a good one, we will all be able to live with it.
There are some stories that are not helpful, however. Rather than contribute, these stories cause fear. I'm all about things that don't cause fear; if it causes fear, it's bound to be bad. A healthy skepticism is positive. It also works both ways. A story can cause me to use my healthy skepticism to re-examine our choices. It also makes me look close as hell at the stories themselves.
Strangely enough, both these stories that have impacted me the most in a negative way involved IAC. (Maybe that's why they had such an impact.)
The first story is about an adoptive couple. They were contacted by a birth mother and got to the point of having a match meeting between themselves, the birth mother and an agency counselor. All the parents thought the meeting went great. After the meeting, however, the counselor called Child Protective Services on behalf of the birth mother's older child. What was it about? I don't know. The adoptive parents, though they wrote extensively about their upset, did not say. They may not know. I have to do a fair bit of reading between the lines with these stories. They may not be willing to say. At any rate, the birth mother called off any contact with IAC and it can only be assumed that, although they say they left IAC as well, this couple did not adopt that baby.
They were furious that the agency's actions cost them their baby. I have to take a step back and think. I've been that mandatory reporter. I've made those phone calls. I didn't do it lightly, and I don't know any professional who does. It could have been a million things. It could have been someone in the home with the child who was unsafe. It could have been the home itself. She may have said she left her toddler unsupervised for this or that amount of time. I'm willing to believe it could have been something the birth mother didn't think of as wrong; no one likes being told she's endangering her child. It could have been something the adoptive parents, perhaps unversed in the social services climate, didn't even recognize. I'm willing to bet it's something they wanted to ignore.
And they wanted the agency to ignore it, too. They were willing to put the birth mother's child in continuing jeopardy so they could have her unborn child. It made me sick and angry. To know that they did successfully adopt a different child and, at the time of my reading, were trying to adopt again just disgusts me. I feel sorry for the birth mothers of their children. Those women will never have their respect.
That one was a bit easier to put behind me than the next one. After all, I know we're better people than that. I know that for us it will not be a baby at any cost.
This, however, threw me for a total loop.
This is a long story. If you'd like to read it all, you can message me and I'll be happy to provide you with the link to this woman's website. I'll try and share only the most important parts.
This woman is a birth mother. She was married with one child when she found herself unexpectedly pregnant again. In dire financial straits, she and her husband decided to place their daughter in an open adoption. They found a couple and the adoption went forward. Up until the adoption was finalized, everything went smoothly and nobody had any complaints (that they were willing to say out loud, anyway.) After finalization, the adoptive parents began to restrict the contact the birth family had with their daughter beyond what the birth mother could bear. Although the adoptive family lives in California where open adoption contact agreements are legally binding and not merely a tool for communication, she discovered theirs was not filed at the child's finalization. So she sued.
Every adoptive parent's worst nightmare, right? This is what they tell us can't happen. The birth parents cannot years later come back and change their minds. Even if they can't win a legal case, who wants birth parents who feel like that? Like I said, I want us all to be able to live with the decision.
Time for reading between the lines, boys and girls. The birth mother did not win. She was not suing to file the contact agreement and enforce it. She was actually suing to get the girl back. I can understand how she might feel betrayed as the adoptive parents closed her off from their daughter, but to try and win the girl back? There's more. For five years, up until she filed her suit, they still allowed her to visit the girl. It was on their terms, true, not hers, but it would have been entirely within their rights to say no altogether, since the contact agreement wasn't binding. Not until she filed her suit did they cut her off completely. Who wouldn't? There's still more. Ultimately, the birth mother and her husband had another child and then divorced. The adoptive family gave the birth father and the other children not only continuing visits after the birth mother filed her suit, they actually got more than the bare minimum. Although this birth mother publishes extensive quotes and often entire e-mails of what she says to the adoptive parents and how they respond, I have to give the adoptive parents a lot of credit. They never get nasty. I would be so tempted to tell this woman who also has not kept a promise (to allow these people to parent her child) where she could stick it. If anything, they try to be understanding while trying to maintain what's best for their daughter.
So here's my version of the story. The birth mother was never about the adoption. She says she would never have placed the girl if she had not been able to keep in contact. Later on, a judge actually tells her the contact she wanted from an adoptive family was just absurd. She wanted someone else to provide for her daughter while she couldn't, but in such a way that she could still be Mom. The adoptive parents may have picked up on this earlier or later. They may have thought her husband and other children would help in her grieving as their daily lives moved on without this child. They may have thought this was a part of the grief we all hear will happen. They may even, at first, have considered themselves lucky to have such an involved birth family when so many want so little contact.
At some point, however, the nature of the birth mother's motivation for contact became apparent. They had not been given by her that all too important permission to parent. That they kept it to themselves until after the adoption was finalized is understandable, if not exactly how you or I might have done it. Even if they had begun to close the adoption sooner, the birth mother would have had a difficult time, having signed relinquishments and with months gone by, blocking the adoption. After that, like I've said, they dealt with her as best they could. I would cut someone off for suing me, too!
The only thing on which I can fault the adoptive parents is accepting a match in the first place when they came to feel so uncomfortable. I don't really believe they didn't pick up on it sooner rather than later. I would have, and I would not be able to move forward. Once the baby arrives, it's so hard to say no. Not to mention it paints you as the bad guy for seeming to have misled someone in the one moment when you finally do the right thing. And these folks are downright covered in paint.
Really, this story isn't about what happened, which is pretty damn unfortunate for everyone involved. For me, this is about whether we'll be able to avoid this same situation. I think I'm a good judge of character, but I also know I've been wrong. If ever there were a time when it was important to get it right! I'm sure these folks thought they'd gotten it right at first, too.
I lay awake last night, reviewing this woman's story and responding to it in my head.
In 2009 I flew back to California and spent a week driving around all my favorite places. In the late afternoon, I went south from Point Reyes Station, a road I'd never taken before. There was nothing between me and San Francisco, and I thought to find a motel outside the city and stop for the night.
The road was nothing like I thought. It hugged the cliffs. The speed limit was 35 miles an hour, which, if you really went that fast, felt absolutely reckless. The fog was so thick it looked like my headlights weren't on. I was driving a car that was strange to me. And the road went on forever.
It felt like hours. I thought I would never get there. I was exhausted. Oh, and I had no cell signal. And I probably had to pee.
When I read this woman's story, I think of that drive. I think of how we don't know what's ahead, only that we're still on the road. At least, we think we're still on the road. The next curve can run up at any time, though, and we have to make a split second decision as to which way to go and hope like hell we haven't just driven off a cliff like the emotional and legal one those adoptive parents drove themselves off of. How to navigate?
I landed somewhere safe that night. I came down out of the hills above San Fran and the next thing I knew I was driving across the Golden Gate Bridge in one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
Exquisite, huh?
I promptly got lost again. Three interstates later, I called Eric in tears and begged him to use the last bar on my cell phone to find a motel online and direct me to it. And he did.
And here ends the metaphor. Between Eric and I, we guided me to safety, got really scared, almost drove off 30 cliffs and suffered through some really intense awesomeness. Together, we might be able to do this.
For the record, he says I'm not allowed to go back to her website.
No problem.
We're really only still in the beginning of our adoption. With our home study halfway finished, we're closing in on the middle part, the waiting. So I'm not exactly an expert yet. But I'll tell you what I think is the hardest part of adoption: hearing about other adoptions.
What's the most helpful thing in an adoption? Hearing about other adoptions.
Yes, those are the same thing. It's like that.
A little over three months ago, as we were about to sign on with IAC, I got the itch to learn more. Up until that time, it had all been about Eric and I communicating with each other, it had been a personal search and a private decision. I know a handful of people who are adopted, and one adoptive parent. My friends who were adopted were born between 30 and 70 years ago, all of them adopted in closed adoptions. My friend who is an adoptive parent adopted internationally. The point being that while I very much value what they have to share, I also wanted to find people in situations like mine.
Ah, the internet. So much information. So much of it plain wrong. Some entirely irrelevant. Some of it occasionally correct. And it's really hard to tell which is which.
The truth is that the same adoptive family could adopt twice from the same birth parents and using the same agency. Everything about the two adoptions could be identical on paper, and yet the experiences of everyone involved could be completely different for each adoption.
So trying to find what's useful to you in a situation that's only somewhat similar to yours is kind of like seeing someone else winning the lottery and running out to buy tickets using the same numbers they chose. Those numbers will probably get you nowhere.
And yet . . . they played the lottery and they won. Few people know better.
And so I feel compelled to read about the lives of others.
IAC has its own forum just for clients who have officially signed on with them. It's awesome to have such a place. It's the only place I feel safe posting in addition to reading. On other sites, I feel like I have nothing to share because we're still so near the beginning. On the IAC forum, it's easy to see how each and every user was once in our shoes at the same point in the road. The other adoptive parents there are also exceptionally helpful and understanding.
Yet it would be unwise of me to ignore the experiences of those outside our agency. There are more than 300 families on the books with IAC; perhaps 15-20 post regularly. Its forum is a useful emotional and informational tool, but it certainly doesn't have all the answers.
On other sites, though, there exists the possibility of anyone coming along and saying anything they like. And believe me, if it can be said, they will say it. I had no idea there were anti-adoption people out there. They are insane. I still read their stuff, so I know what the worst case scenario might be with people I may come across in my life. Occasionally, I find small glimmers of a good point in their raving.
Most of what I find is helpful. Other adoptive parents, sometimes birth parents and occasionally adoptees chime in to inform others. I've gotten to experience vicariously the uncertainty of a contact and the elation of a match, the excitement of the birth and, yes, the bitter disappointment of a reclaim. Contrary to what you might think, these stories really help. I see others dealing more or less successfully with their disappointment and I discover their strategies for coping and learn which might help me most should we face that same disappointment. The fear of a birth mother reclaiming her child is diminishing. Should that happen, it will be disappointing, of course, but we don't want a child whose mother wants to parent him. At the end of the day, we'll know she will grieve, we'll know that she will probably wish things could happen differently, but at the end of the day I still want to know she feels she made a good choice. We can't know if it was the "right" choice, but if it was a good one, we will all be able to live with it.
There are some stories that are not helpful, however. Rather than contribute, these stories cause fear. I'm all about things that don't cause fear; if it causes fear, it's bound to be bad. A healthy skepticism is positive. It also works both ways. A story can cause me to use my healthy skepticism to re-examine our choices. It also makes me look close as hell at the stories themselves.
Strangely enough, both these stories that have impacted me the most in a negative way involved IAC. (Maybe that's why they had such an impact.)
The first story is about an adoptive couple. They were contacted by a birth mother and got to the point of having a match meeting between themselves, the birth mother and an agency counselor. All the parents thought the meeting went great. After the meeting, however, the counselor called Child Protective Services on behalf of the birth mother's older child. What was it about? I don't know. The adoptive parents, though they wrote extensively about their upset, did not say. They may not know. I have to do a fair bit of reading between the lines with these stories. They may not be willing to say. At any rate, the birth mother called off any contact with IAC and it can only be assumed that, although they say they left IAC as well, this couple did not adopt that baby.
They were furious that the agency's actions cost them their baby. I have to take a step back and think. I've been that mandatory reporter. I've made those phone calls. I didn't do it lightly, and I don't know any professional who does. It could have been a million things. It could have been someone in the home with the child who was unsafe. It could have been the home itself. She may have said she left her toddler unsupervised for this or that amount of time. I'm willing to believe it could have been something the birth mother didn't think of as wrong; no one likes being told she's endangering her child. It could have been something the adoptive parents, perhaps unversed in the social services climate, didn't even recognize. I'm willing to bet it's something they wanted to ignore.
And they wanted the agency to ignore it, too. They were willing to put the birth mother's child in continuing jeopardy so they could have her unborn child. It made me sick and angry. To know that they did successfully adopt a different child and, at the time of my reading, were trying to adopt again just disgusts me. I feel sorry for the birth mothers of their children. Those women will never have their respect.
That one was a bit easier to put behind me than the next one. After all, I know we're better people than that. I know that for us it will not be a baby at any cost.
This, however, threw me for a total loop.
This is a long story. If you'd like to read it all, you can message me and I'll be happy to provide you with the link to this woman's website. I'll try and share only the most important parts.
This woman is a birth mother. She was married with one child when she found herself unexpectedly pregnant again. In dire financial straits, she and her husband decided to place their daughter in an open adoption. They found a couple and the adoption went forward. Up until the adoption was finalized, everything went smoothly and nobody had any complaints (that they were willing to say out loud, anyway.) After finalization, the adoptive parents began to restrict the contact the birth family had with their daughter beyond what the birth mother could bear. Although the adoptive family lives in California where open adoption contact agreements are legally binding and not merely a tool for communication, she discovered theirs was not filed at the child's finalization. So she sued.
Every adoptive parent's worst nightmare, right? This is what they tell us can't happen. The birth parents cannot years later come back and change their minds. Even if they can't win a legal case, who wants birth parents who feel like that? Like I said, I want us all to be able to live with the decision.
Time for reading between the lines, boys and girls. The birth mother did not win. She was not suing to file the contact agreement and enforce it. She was actually suing to get the girl back. I can understand how she might feel betrayed as the adoptive parents closed her off from their daughter, but to try and win the girl back? There's more. For five years, up until she filed her suit, they still allowed her to visit the girl. It was on their terms, true, not hers, but it would have been entirely within their rights to say no altogether, since the contact agreement wasn't binding. Not until she filed her suit did they cut her off completely. Who wouldn't? There's still more. Ultimately, the birth mother and her husband had another child and then divorced. The adoptive family gave the birth father and the other children not only continuing visits after the birth mother filed her suit, they actually got more than the bare minimum. Although this birth mother publishes extensive quotes and often entire e-mails of what she says to the adoptive parents and how they respond, I have to give the adoptive parents a lot of credit. They never get nasty. I would be so tempted to tell this woman who also has not kept a promise (to allow these people to parent her child) where she could stick it. If anything, they try to be understanding while trying to maintain what's best for their daughter.
So here's my version of the story. The birth mother was never about the adoption. She says she would never have placed the girl if she had not been able to keep in contact. Later on, a judge actually tells her the contact she wanted from an adoptive family was just absurd. She wanted someone else to provide for her daughter while she couldn't, but in such a way that she could still be Mom. The adoptive parents may have picked up on this earlier or later. They may have thought her husband and other children would help in her grieving as their daily lives moved on without this child. They may have thought this was a part of the grief we all hear will happen. They may even, at first, have considered themselves lucky to have such an involved birth family when so many want so little contact.
At some point, however, the nature of the birth mother's motivation for contact became apparent. They had not been given by her that all too important permission to parent. That they kept it to themselves until after the adoption was finalized is understandable, if not exactly how you or I might have done it. Even if they had begun to close the adoption sooner, the birth mother would have had a difficult time, having signed relinquishments and with months gone by, blocking the adoption. After that, like I've said, they dealt with her as best they could. I would cut someone off for suing me, too!
The only thing on which I can fault the adoptive parents is accepting a match in the first place when they came to feel so uncomfortable. I don't really believe they didn't pick up on it sooner rather than later. I would have, and I would not be able to move forward. Once the baby arrives, it's so hard to say no. Not to mention it paints you as the bad guy for seeming to have misled someone in the one moment when you finally do the right thing. And these folks are downright covered in paint.
Really, this story isn't about what happened, which is pretty damn unfortunate for everyone involved. For me, this is about whether we'll be able to avoid this same situation. I think I'm a good judge of character, but I also know I've been wrong. If ever there were a time when it was important to get it right! I'm sure these folks thought they'd gotten it right at first, too.
I lay awake last night, reviewing this woman's story and responding to it in my head.
In 2009 I flew back to California and spent a week driving around all my favorite places. In the late afternoon, I went south from Point Reyes Station, a road I'd never taken before. There was nothing between me and San Francisco, and I thought to find a motel outside the city and stop for the night.
The road was nothing like I thought. It hugged the cliffs. The speed limit was 35 miles an hour, which, if you really went that fast, felt absolutely reckless. The fog was so thick it looked like my headlights weren't on. I was driving a car that was strange to me. And the road went on forever.
It felt like hours. I thought I would never get there. I was exhausted. Oh, and I had no cell signal. And I probably had to pee.
When I read this woman's story, I think of that drive. I think of how we don't know what's ahead, only that we're still on the road. At least, we think we're still on the road. The next curve can run up at any time, though, and we have to make a split second decision as to which way to go and hope like hell we haven't just driven off a cliff like the emotional and legal one those adoptive parents drove themselves off of. How to navigate?
I landed somewhere safe that night. I came down out of the hills above San Fran and the next thing I knew I was driving across the Golden Gate Bridge in one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
Exquisite, huh?
I promptly got lost again. Three interstates later, I called Eric in tears and begged him to use the last bar on my cell phone to find a motel online and direct me to it. And he did.
And here ends the metaphor. Between Eric and I, we guided me to safety, got really scared, almost drove off 30 cliffs and suffered through some really intense awesomeness. Together, we might be able to do this.
For the record, he says I'm not allowed to go back to her website.
No problem.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Didn't See These Coming
Topics have been a little heavy so far as I try to catch up with real life here on the blog. This week, I thought I'd just throw out some tidbits you might or might not know about adoption and our experience so far.
We are required to obtain a background check through the FBI and a completely separate check done through Child Protective Services. We are required to have a physical and be tested for HIV and tuberculosis. We do not have to take a drug test.
Speaking of that physical, its purpose is simple: to establish whether we have a normal life expectancy and are free of communicable disease. Here's the catch: What if you're not? I have heard of one adoption that took place despite both parents (a same-sex couple) being HIV positive. I have heard of another adoption where finalization occurred the same day the adoptive father died of a long-term illness. Both adoptions happened anyway.
Did you know that it is not uncommon for newborn infants, boys and girls, to secrete milk from their own breasts after birth? This is very temporary and is due to the hormones still in the baby's body after sharing them for nine months with its mother.
The law in Virginia does not actually say two people of the same gender cannot adopt jointly. The law does say that if two people adopt jointly, they must be married. Now you get the catch. Since we can't legally marry (in Virginia), we can't legally adopt jointly.
The alternative? I will seek joint custody of our child once his or her adoption by Eric is finalized. What do I have to do? Ironically, neither the finalization nor the custody agreement will take place in court. Both are done by our attorney by mail. Anti-climactic, no?
The original plan was for me to be the adoptive parent, but I don't make enough. The agency's cut-off for a single parent home study? $25,000.
Until our adoption is finalized, from the time the baby is placed with us she or he actually legally belongs to the agency.
During that time, while the baby is in our physical custody but in the legal custody of the agency, they ask that we do not spank him or her. Most newborn adoptions are complete by the time the baby turns one year old. Who out there is spanking their tiny baby?!
Despite prejudices that say otherwise, 55% of the infants adopted through our agency are 100% Caucasian.
In some states, if the mother does not know the identity of the baby's father, or if she is unwilling to reveal his identity, for an adoption to take place his rights may be terminated by publishing in the newspaper that Jane Doe had a child on This Date, 2011, so anyone who had sex with her and thinks he may be the father of the child should come forward.
Simply because a birth father is not aware of the birth mother's pregnancy or the child's birth does not mean he can come around later and challenge the adoption. It does not absolve him of his responsibility to find out if their sex resulted in pregnancy. His rights can be terminated anyway.
If a woman is married and conceives a child with someone other than her husband, her husband is the legal father of the child and has more rights to the child than the biological father does. In this case, the legal father, the birth mother's husband, can block an adoption. It is unlikely that a biological father not married to the mother could do the same unless he has been supporting her through her pregnancy and continues to do so.
Adopted children are the only people who receive two original birth certificates. The first is not erased or altered; a second certificate is issued.
In the United States, you can name your child anything you'd like. The countries of northern Europe in particular have laws regarding naming, some of them quite strict. There are lists of approved names and most require a boy's name to be easily distinguishable from a girl's. The U.S. is more lax. The birth mother may choose anything she'd like to put on the birth certificate. The adoptive parents have 100% discretion to then change the child's name to anything they'd like. Mary Jones may have a child with John Johnson and then the child may be adopted by James Smith and Anne Thompson. They can name their child Joseph Michael Pearl Jam. Even if it's a girl.
If a child is known to be of Native American heritage, the relevant tribe or tribes must be contacted before an adoption may proceed. If the tribe finds that the child qualifies as a member, they may, at their discretion, block an adoption.
What's that, you say? That's heavy stuff, too? Okay, some of it is, so here's some fun stuff about us.
Eric's given first name is Eric-Gene. If you reverse those, it says Generic. Generic is our pet name for our unknown son or daughter.
The first time we went baby shopping, Eric ran over my foot with the stroller. A sign of things to come?
I'll admit that we've already chosen names. It's one thing we can control and decide upon right now. We're totally open to suggestions from our birth parents, however.
Barring a baby born in Hawaii, we're driving. I hate flying enough to know I'd hijack the plane if I were expected to take a newborn on a flight.
Eric bought me a guitar just so I can learn to play and sing songs for the baby.
We still can't decide what to have the baby call us. What will he or she call all those grandparents? Y'all are on your own.
We've already picked out a school for our son or daughter. Yes, we've already visited it.
The baby's room is the nicest in our home.
I refrain from throwing away old t-shirts because I think "Hey, those are free pajamas for Generic."
I asked Eric to fetch a box of super awesome wonderfully colored plastic hangers off the side of the road because I was too embarrassed to do it myself but I thought they would look awesome in the baby's room. Look awesome is all they'll do, though. Generic won't grow into clothes this size for another decade at the earliest.
My mother brings up the baby every time I speak with her.
I bring up the baby at least ten times more often than that.
Thanks for reading!
We are required to obtain a background check through the FBI and a completely separate check done through Child Protective Services. We are required to have a physical and be tested for HIV and tuberculosis. We do not have to take a drug test.
Speaking of that physical, its purpose is simple: to establish whether we have a normal life expectancy and are free of communicable disease. Here's the catch: What if you're not? I have heard of one adoption that took place despite both parents (a same-sex couple) being HIV positive. I have heard of another adoption where finalization occurred the same day the adoptive father died of a long-term illness. Both adoptions happened anyway.
Did you know that it is not uncommon for newborn infants, boys and girls, to secrete milk from their own breasts after birth? This is very temporary and is due to the hormones still in the baby's body after sharing them for nine months with its mother.
The law in Virginia does not actually say two people of the same gender cannot adopt jointly. The law does say that if two people adopt jointly, they must be married. Now you get the catch. Since we can't legally marry (in Virginia), we can't legally adopt jointly.
The alternative? I will seek joint custody of our child once his or her adoption by Eric is finalized. What do I have to do? Ironically, neither the finalization nor the custody agreement will take place in court. Both are done by our attorney by mail. Anti-climactic, no?
The original plan was for me to be the adoptive parent, but I don't make enough. The agency's cut-off for a single parent home study? $25,000.
Until our adoption is finalized, from the time the baby is placed with us she or he actually legally belongs to the agency.
During that time, while the baby is in our physical custody but in the legal custody of the agency, they ask that we do not spank him or her. Most newborn adoptions are complete by the time the baby turns one year old. Who out there is spanking their tiny baby?!
Despite prejudices that say otherwise, 55% of the infants adopted through our agency are 100% Caucasian.
In some states, if the mother does not know the identity of the baby's father, or if she is unwilling to reveal his identity, for an adoption to take place his rights may be terminated by publishing in the newspaper that Jane Doe had a child on This Date, 2011, so anyone who had sex with her and thinks he may be the father of the child should come forward.
Simply because a birth father is not aware of the birth mother's pregnancy or the child's birth does not mean he can come around later and challenge the adoption. It does not absolve him of his responsibility to find out if their sex resulted in pregnancy. His rights can be terminated anyway.
If a woman is married and conceives a child with someone other than her husband, her husband is the legal father of the child and has more rights to the child than the biological father does. In this case, the legal father, the birth mother's husband, can block an adoption. It is unlikely that a biological father not married to the mother could do the same unless he has been supporting her through her pregnancy and continues to do so.
Adopted children are the only people who receive two original birth certificates. The first is not erased or altered; a second certificate is issued.
In the United States, you can name your child anything you'd like. The countries of northern Europe in particular have laws regarding naming, some of them quite strict. There are lists of approved names and most require a boy's name to be easily distinguishable from a girl's. The U.S. is more lax. The birth mother may choose anything she'd like to put on the birth certificate. The adoptive parents have 100% discretion to then change the child's name to anything they'd like. Mary Jones may have a child with John Johnson and then the child may be adopted by James Smith and Anne Thompson. They can name their child Joseph Michael Pearl Jam. Even if it's a girl.
If a child is known to be of Native American heritage, the relevant tribe or tribes must be contacted before an adoption may proceed. If the tribe finds that the child qualifies as a member, they may, at their discretion, block an adoption.
What's that, you say? That's heavy stuff, too? Okay, some of it is, so here's some fun stuff about us.
Eric's given first name is Eric-Gene. If you reverse those, it says Generic. Generic is our pet name for our unknown son or daughter.
The first time we went baby shopping, Eric ran over my foot with the stroller. A sign of things to come?
I'll admit that we've already chosen names. It's one thing we can control and decide upon right now. We're totally open to suggestions from our birth parents, however.
Barring a baby born in Hawaii, we're driving. I hate flying enough to know I'd hijack the plane if I were expected to take a newborn on a flight.
Eric bought me a guitar just so I can learn to play and sing songs for the baby.
We still can't decide what to have the baby call us. What will he or she call all those grandparents? Y'all are on your own.
We've already picked out a school for our son or daughter. Yes, we've already visited it.
The baby's room is the nicest in our home.
I refrain from throwing away old t-shirts because I think "Hey, those are free pajamas for Generic."
I asked Eric to fetch a box of super awesome wonderfully colored plastic hangers off the side of the road because I was too embarrassed to do it myself but I thought they would look awesome in the baby's room. Look awesome is all they'll do, though. Generic won't grow into clothes this size for another decade at the earliest.
My mother brings up the baby every time I speak with her.
I bring up the baby at least ten times more often than that.
Thanks for reading!
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