Mother and Child

The film "Mother and Child" is available to rent now. It's a layered look at adoption- characters include 1st Mom, adoptee, relinquishing Mom, and adopting couple. Perhaps that the stories were so spread around is the reason I was emotionally able to get through it. (Or perhaps I should be thanking my defense mechanisms.) Whatever the case, it helped me to cry- which I can rarely do- and it was helpful. I'd recommend the movie for that reason.

Adoptees, be prepared. The adoptee character is the most tragic.

Risk

I recently received a nice card from my Mother, who hasn't initiated a contact with me in several years. (I have contacted her during that time, usually once every 6-9 months.) Her words were really kind and she looks forward to chatting. She signed her name in its ethnic spelling (Ukrainian)- that felt like a little gift to me.

When I do talk to her, I want to ask about the spelling. I also have a mad urge to finally ask her something else... whether she ever considers telling her two sons (my full-brothers) about me. I don't think of this in terms of my own interests. I have such a sense of disconnect from even the idea of them that I don't have any urge to meet them really. But I am interested in it for her sake.

I hate thinking of my Mother living is such secrecy and shame. To my knowledge, she has a sister, two nephews/neices, and her mother, all of whom don't know her secret. I can't imagine the pain of it. It would take such courage to come out with the truth to loved ones, and others. What a huge risk. But in my head I keep hearing what Joe Soll (author, "Adoption Healing") says- "We all can handle the truth." Next, I think of my philosophy about how the fear of a change is always worse than the change itself. My dearest wish for my Mother is that she could free herself from guilt. She doesn't need to be guilty. And I need her, and guilt is holding her back.

What will I actually ask about when I finally talk to her? I never know. Hopefully more than the weather.

Strange Humor from "LOLcats" Site

Twins

Today I became aware of a news story about a young married couple who filed for annulment upon learning that they were siblings separated at birth. A therapist commented, "This is a terrible trauma for them. They lost each other as babies and now they have lost each other again. They have been bereaved twice."

It's hard to imagine being in such a situation. The article brought two things to my mind. First is my favorite anthropologist, Marvin Harris, and his writings on incest taboo in his book "Our Kind." The second is the movie "Lone Star." Without saying more, I thought I would mention these sources for those who might be interested. Hope those who check either out will share their thoughts.

Coming Home to Self

Working my way through Nancy Verrier's "Coming Home to Self." Naturally, lots to think about and work on, and in the midst of it, an epiphany. The thing that has struck me is this thought, phrased quite simply- "I can't believe I've lived without a mother like this, and for so long. How did I even do it?!"

I'm putting down the book to reflect on this for a few days.

Coming Home to Self

Each evening during the Adoption Crossroads conference (this past month), conference organizer Joe Soll hosted an informal hospitality suite which, wonderfully, was attended by several of the conference presenters. Attending a social hour amidst those guests (such as authors) who have been so influential for me felt strange at first- a little like being amongst celebrities or superheroes or something. But the reality of where I was quickly revealed itself. I was amongst a group of strong individuals of great tenderness. People who understand that the greatest courage is in allowing onesself to be vulnerable.

One evening it was my honor to introduce myself to Nancy Verrier, author of "The Primal Wound." Her book changed (or maybe even saved) my life, and while I knew she had probably heard that statement countless times, I had to tell her for myself. We visited and, like a sponge, I soaked in Nancy's gentle spirit and her empathic kindness.

Upon returning home from the conference it occured to me that for all of the adoption-related books I've read, I had not read Nancy's second book, "Coming Home to Self." I notice that I'm reading it differently than "The Primal Wound." The difference seems to have something to do with a heightened sense of "you are not being alone." I hadn't anticipated this at all, but it does make sense. Having met the author, the experience feels more interpersonal. A most unexpected gain from attending a conference.

Against Adoption?

When I visit blogs on adoption and if I like the tone and the work of blog, I like to visit some of that blog's links. My most recent visit took me to "Adopters Against Adoption". The site entries date to 2003, and the organization may no longer exist. The existing entries are sobering. The site seems to be (or have been) an outlet for adoptive parents who have been traumatized by their adoptive parenting experiences. Whereas adoptive parents usually strive to identify, in their minds, their children as "their own," the Adopters Against Adoption are focused on the "not-mine-ness" of their families.

The "Adopters Against Adoption" are angry. They're angry because the facilitators of their children's adoptions did not provide them with complete information on the children's histories. Entries on the blog tell stories of adopted children having dire medical and emotional illness, or histories of sociopathic behavior. The adoptive parents are angry that they do not receive adequate financial, institutional, and/or emotional assistance in dealing with the children. In some cases, parents or others even need protection from the children. Some of the adoptive parents are frustrated that they can't return the children to the institutions from which they were adopted. Some adopters conclude that if they had to do it all over again, they wouldn't. For any adoptee who could understand such an adoptive parent's wish, it would be the ultimate indignity. Meanwhile, this scenario is RARE, and the "if I could do it over again" sentiment points to something very validating for those of us with losses resulting from adoption.

On the surface, the "Adopters" are, to a great extent, looking for an "out". The family that has been invented for them is grossly less than "satisfying". The coping mechanism of the "He/she's not really mine" could understandably protect these adoptive parents, psychologically. Though I didn't see that any of the "Adopters" wanted to renounce their children entirely from their lives, their awareness of adoptive status had much to do with their efforts toward receiving assistance and absolution. Debilitating illness became a defining factor in how the "family" was defined.

A family of nature can't escape facing severe mental/physical illness through the escape-valve of "it's not my fault", or it's not my problem". What happens when parents of nature reach a point of inability to cope with or answer to their offspring's health? Do some of them tear their clothes and renounce their relationships? If so, I imagine those parents would be within the vast minority. Likewise with the "Adopters Against Adoption," I suspect that a remote few make the "sold a bill of goods" thing any kind of focus. This blog did, however, raise some interesting points to think on.

Why do you go?

Two days after the Adoption Crossroads conference I was talking with a friend and said how much pain I was having following the experience. (Mistakenly) I engaged in some Q&A with her about "adoption" and soon found myself crying, desperate and frustrated. At that point she asked, "Why do you keep going to these if it makes you so upset?"

I heard the answer in my mind but I didn't speak it. I apologized for my meltdown and said goodnight. I heard myself replying about how if I didn't face and take ownership of my abandonment experience, it would continue to own me... how people say there is hope and there is healing, and how I hate to bring it up but although my name is Joy, I'm not at all joyful or content.

That's how it went 5 days ago. Now, as I experience a level of pain that I'm not sure I can tolerate, the irony is that I'm finding myself seriously asking, "Why do I keep going if it makes me so upset?"

Everywhere You Go

I'm very awkward about (the mere existence of?) my blog and website on adoption when it comes to the "outside world". When I met with a web guy the other day, I found myself warding off feelings of shame. I was trained as an artist which, in academia today, sadly, means that (a)anything that can be associated with sentimentality is a negative, and (b)anything that directly reveals itself as personal (as opposed to intellectualized or quantified) is a negative. Add to that the idea that "outsiders" might consider an adoption site to be self-help for something that isn't even real-- I can be left feeling really icky. It's hard work to shake it off.

But back to my meeting. We had been talking about the website for about 20 minutes when the consultant said, "My wife is adopted, so I'm familiar with this." He talked about how they were well in to their relationship when she told him she was adopted, how working through related issues helped them, and how he was relieved to know that she was adopted. (Evidently it convinced him that there was a definitive distinction between her and her not-so-very-sane adoptive family.)

So, the meeting was a reminder that everywhere we go, we're bumping in to one another (adoptees, moms) and we don't even know it. I think I'll do an intentional meditation on that as I move through a day, encountering people and meeting their eyes, and wondering what kind of weights they carry. We forget that we all are carrying something.

Adoption Crossroads Conference, NYC

Fans of author/adoptee Joe Soll: if you love his books, you should see the conference he puts on. This past weekend I attended Shedding Light on the Adoption Experience, VI in New York City. Joe had great programming, and I met some of my heros in the field- Betty Jean Lifton, Ann Fessler, and best of all, Nancy Verrier. I can't thank Joe, and all, enough for the wonderful experience.

This was the second adoption-related conference I've attended. The first was emotionally grueling. I was thinking this one had been much "easier". Good sleep at night, no anxiety reactions, etc.

Little did I know what was to come. The day after I got home I began melt-down. Crying, desperate phonecalls, and some angry outbursts. Thank you to Shannon, new friend from the conference, for the morale support!

And speaking of Shannon... the link to this post will take you to her web site on the play that was performed (read) at the conference. It is an exceptional piece! New Yorkers, there are performances coming in October. Hopefully Shannon might film it at some point for some wider circulation.

7 Down

Seven down, 43 to go. Illinois has become the 7th state to grant adoptees access to their origiinal birth certificates. The first adoptee to receive his certificate is 73 years old- little chance that he will find a parent alive, but at 73 he is finally holding the truth in his hand.

I have a copy of my falsified birth certificate, which includes my adoptive parents' names and little else. When I was in my 20's, I had a fantasy that perhaps if I went m to the vital statistics office and requested a copy of my birth certificate, perhaps the great bureaucratic machine would produce the original. It didn't. I received another copy of The Lie. I've never felt such intense indignation, and humiliation, in my life.

Lobbying for open access to birth records is an essential aspect of adoption advocacy. But I always urge searchers not to get hung up on utilizing bureaucracy (as in petitioning the courts, hospitals, etc.) in their searches. Once you have some info to go on, I highly recommend hiring a private investigator. Investigators have knowledge of, and sometimes access to, records that the rest of us don't. Hiring an investigator speeds the search and that can make a difference in finding relatives while they're still alive.

The institution that made my search possible was the adoption agency itself. I don't know if this is universal, but my agency provided me (for a fee) a "non-identifying biography" of my parents. My parents were identified by first names, and the document was peppered with bits of information that were extremely helpful in the search. I can't help but to think that the agency, or someone in it, wanted to help me find my parents. I followed up by asking if I was entitled to have copies of any medical records they had for me. I received those for free. Unbelievably, they had my mother's full name on them, but they were poor copies from microfishe so they were hard to read, and we later found that her last name was spelled incorrectly. Nonetheless, we had a great start.

The wheels of law and bureacracy are slow. (Actually, I think they're square.) Let's advocate while also urging seekers to be proactive. It's our job to assure them that it's perfectly legal to want to know who you are.

Are psyhcologists making us feel worse?

This is the topic of an interesting blog entry (link attached) which I've just commented on. (Hope you'll check it out- it expands on what I'm talking about here.)I think it's an especially important topic for adoptees to be aware of.

A medical doctor once told me that my psychologist had listed me as having "narcissistic personality disorder". I hadn't heard the term before, but I pretty quickly replied, "Well, I guess that's the artistic temperament." I went away thinking on this, later to learn from my psychologist that "He [the doctor] shouldn't have told you that." I ignored the annoyance of the secrecy aspect and went on to address the term. I told him, I'm not worried about the narcissistic part, I'm worried about "disorder".

If you take a look at my comments on the Austin Holistic Parenting site, you'll see more of my thoughts on "disorders" in psychiatry. Here, I want to touch on "disorders" in relation to adoption and narcissism.

Narcissism is a bolster against the pain of insecurity. Adoptees know it well as the "false self", under which we invent fantasies of our own genius, beauty and importance. The insecurity underneath chips away at us, whispering about how the grandiose notions are a big lie. (And in this context, they are.) Then we're left feeling even more insecure and we behave with even more grandiosity. **For adoptees, the pitfall of the narcissism exists in parallel with a natural reality: the adoptee's family life is usually presented to the world, and to the adoptee, as natural kinship. This also is a very big lie.

When people say to me "You're so kind" or "so good", my first thoughts are, "No I'm not. I'm a ridiculously angry person. I thought everyone could see that." I suppose I'm preoccupied with seeing, or experiencing it. I say to people I know well, "I'm not 'good', I'm very angry, most of the time. Whatever 'good' I do is whatever I need to do, or feel obliged to do."

Those "good" things are behaviors, actions, and they are good things. But I think that the "good" that people are really seeing is my strong vein of empathy. And that's ok. I think that this is what author Alice Miller means by the "gift" in her "The Drama of the Gifted Child". [I'd also note that Miller is a psychologist who doesn't rely on "disorder" jargon.] I hope that all adoptees can learn to cultivate this gift as they navigate their insecurities. I don't know if those insecurities, and losses, ever really heal, but cultivating empathy is a soul food like no other.

Adoption Bonanza

An article in yesterday's New York Times titled "After Haiti Quake, the Chaos of U.S. Adoptions," has left me nauseous and heartsick. I've attached a link to this very important update on the Haitian situation. Some particular verbiage heightened my reaction to the article...

Phrase 1: "Adoption bonanza," describing the explosion of supposedly orphaned/"adoptable" children and the American flurry to seize opportunity.

Phrase 2: "Humanitarian parole," which is categorized as being "a sparingly used immigration program". Apparently this classification was used to facilitate the expediting of adoptions of children regardless of whether the children were in immediate peril or actually orphaned in the first place.

Predicaments of prospective adoptive parents are also touched on. One couple will be appearing in a Haitian court to testify to the identities of their two, yet to be officially adopted, children. (One child has highly suspicious documents, the other has none at all.) The adoptive mother states that "As things stand, I'm basically going to show up in court and tell a judge, 'These kids are who I say they are,' and hope that he takes my word for it, because if he asks me to prove it, I can't."

The couple's Haitian children are now named "Owen" and "Emersyn".

Late Discovery Adoption

After a delay due to technical difficulty, it's here- excerpts from my conversation with new friend and late-discovery adoptee Jenni Dyman...

On June 23, I traveled to Albuquerque, NM, to meet fellow adoptee Jenni Dyman. Jenni is currently the New Mexico Representative for the American Adoption Congress, which is how we became acquainted.

Jenni is a late-discovery adoptee- the term refers to adoptees who discover their adoptive status in their adulthood. In the spring of this year I had mentioned to Jenni that I was very interested in the late-discovery aspect of adoption and that I wondered whether she would like to do an interview for the blog at some point. Jenni said she would be glad to. Our interview was a long, wonderful talk about her experience. Our talk started with the overview of her story.

Jenni was born in 1941 in Oklahoma City at the "Home of Redeeming Love," a Free Methodist institution for unwed mothers. (Jenni noted during our conversation that if there were one to be said of the "good ladies of the home," it would be their meticulous record-keeping, which would prove to be very helpful to her in understanding her story.)Jenni was adopted shortly after birth by an Oklahoma couple with one (biological) son, aged 15. Jenni said that because of the difference in her and her adoptive brother’s ages, she basically grew up as an only child.

When Jenni was 57 (1998) she embarked on a genealogy project simply out of her general interest in genealogy. She began contacting relatives, asking them to send information on family history. A cousin responded by providing a family tree that an aunt had created years earlier. On the tree, Jenni was listed as “Jenni (adopted)”.

Jenni’s brother, “after much stonewalling,” confirmed that it was true that Jenni was adopted. After a long and frustrating search and finally going to court to get her birth certificate, Jenni found the identity of her mother. She learned that her mother had died in 1996, coincidentally the same year that her adoptive mother had died.

Here, our interview began.

Q: Jenni, as the shock-factor wore off, what was the most prominent emotion you experienced in discovering you were adopted?

A: It was relief.

Q: How do you mean?

A: My parents were very strange people. [pause] They weren’t abusive, but they were very strange.

Q: So you were relieved to not have “come from them”?

A: Yes. When I told my son that I’d learned I was adopted, he said, “That explains a lot.”

[We both laugh]

Q: What was your first “action response” following the discovery?

A: I joined Adoptees in Search in Denver. They were a great help in finding resources for what would be my long sleuthing project. And they provided needed support. I recommend support groups (if available) for anyone searching. I also, in time, discovered the American Adoption Congress which has many resources to help adoptees and birthparents who are searching. If one has no support group available nearby, there are now many online resources.

Q. You eventually got complete records from the adoption home.

A: Yes, after some time. Initially I only received non-identifying info. I began my search with that information. Eventually I did go to court to get my birth certificate and received it; my original birth certificate had my original name which was Geneva Ann (rather nicely sounding like Jenni) and also my mother’s name. Later I was able to get all my records from the adoption agency since my adoptive parents and birthmother were deceased, and likely my birthfather was be deceased as well. One advantage of searching when you are older is that it is easier to work with the system. I learned that my birthmother had come from an extremely poor family. They were sharecroppers. I was surprised that my parents had adopted from poor circumstances as they could be quite prejudiced about poor people.

My birthmother was 33 although she lied about her age (25) at the maternity home. I think she thought that, given her age and situation (divorced with two children,) that the home might not take her. The hardworking, meticulous ladies at the Home of Redeeming Love, of course, caught her in her lie. They researched her past and
discovered she was born in 1907. They actually found out a lot about her and realized that she lied quite a bit about her past. I still do not know who my birthfather was.

Q: After you found your mother, you started looking for all the relatives you could find. How was that?

A: It was good. I met an aunt, cousins, and nephews and was welcomed by them all. My nephews tell me I look like their father, my half brother. A cousin has said I look like my mother. My aunt unfortunately has macular degeneration so is not able to assess my appearance fully.

Q: It’s great that you have such a good, ongoing relationship with them.

A: Yes. All but with my half sister. I think she’s very jealous of the life I had. We used to talk on the phone but it got to the point where she was too angry at me all the time and we quit talking. But then, she doesn’t get along with anyone else in the family, either.

Q: Well, I guess that sums it up, then.

[We laugh again]

A: They’re a very interesting family. I have liked them from the initial meetings. One thing I like is that my nephews and their families will gather in the living room, as though around the cracker barrel, and they’ll talk for a while, and then they’ll go quiet, and they’ll all just sit there quietly together until someone has something to say. No one rushes out of the room or texts while we are talking. It’s all very comfortable.

Q: Do you have pictures of your mother?

A: Yes, but they’re old and not in very good shape. My Aunt Johnnie, my mother’s sister, tells me lots of good stories about her. My mother wore the same brand of cosmetics that I used to wear and fried okra was one of her favorite foods—mine too. She apparently could cook great fried okra.

Q: I always like to ask adoptees, “What might have been different if you had been raised by your natural mother?”

A: I think I would have liked being part of an extended family. My adoptive family never spent much time with relatives or went to family reunions. We were isolated. On the other hand, my adoptive family was more middle class. I have had educational opportunities that I would not have had in my birth family. I am the only college graduate in my generation or my half siblings’ generation. My grand nephews and nieces are going to college, and my son has a college degree.

Q: Do you think that your adoptive family did not see relatives because they were afraid that someone might slip and tell you that you were adopted?

A: Yes. And they probably would have. Like my cousin who sent the family tree, not knowing I was unaware of being adopted. I have memories from childhood and adolescence, scenes that come to mind about different things in the past, and I think, “Oh, now that makes sense.”

Q: Did you ever feel humiliated, like you were a laughing stock because everyone but you knew you were adopted?

A: No, I never did. I never blamed myself.... I had perfectly good people to blame. [We crack up.] It was a long journey though, with strong feelings of betrayal and anger. I even wondered whether my older brother was actually my birthfather at one point. We worked through that.

Q: And you’re still trying to identify your birthfather and have taken the new Family Finder test?

A: Yes. The new Family Tree DNA Family Finder test is autosomal, meaning it traces both the maternal and paternal lines for five generations. I did get a number of matches (all cousins). Now I am having my 91-year-old aunt, Aunt Johnnie) also do the Family Tree DNA Family Finder test. That will help me sort out my matches, whether they are maternal or paternal. This is exciting and consuming. My father may have the Hughes surname.

I friend of mine does not know who her mother or her father is. She has a potential mother candidate who denies being her mother. She is having the Family Finder test. This could be a real breakthrough for her. The mother candidate’s niece is also taking the test.

My fondest wish now is to find my father’s family. My earlier fondest wish (that will not be fulfilled) was to hear my mother’s voice and to watch her walk across a room. I so wish that I had learned of my adoption earlier so that I would have had a chance to reunite with my mother. I am a major supporter of open adoption and believe that family secrets are toxic and serve no one in the family well.

-End of interview-

I really want to thank Jenni for taking the time for this interview. It has always been so hard for me to imagine what late-discovery must be like, and our conversation was a wonderful learning experience. I'm also so glad that Jenni has happily reconnected with family. Cheers to you for your perserverence, Jenni!

"Paper pregnant"?

I hadn't heard this one before. Prospective adoptive parents are identifying themselves as "paper pregnant" once their written applications to adopt are filed. Through adoption.com I was able to find some discussions amongst adoptive mothers about the terminology. Broad consensus was that the term was helpful to them in understanding their own "gestation" periods- the time when they are anticipating parenthood via adoption.

I wouldn't want to deny prospective adoptive parents a term for understanding or interpreting their emotions as they prepare for parenthood. But "paper pregnant"?...
Paperwork and pregnancy have nothing to do with each other. Paperwork is documentation. Pregnancy is a natural state shared by mother and gestating child.

The implication I sense in the term "paper pregnant" is that of an adoptive mother laying her first claim to another woman's child. The term would obviously be encouraged by the adoption industry as a tactic of deepening prospective adoptive parents' investment in the adoption process. Yet, to my mind, fostering the notion of pregnancy in someone who is not in fact pregnant is a blatantly unhealthy lie. It is an extension of the "as-if" illusion that the adoption industry cultivates.

The "adoption community" of adoptees and birth/first/natural/biological mothers cannot come up with a consensus on birth/first/natural/biological motherhood terminology. Our likelihood of having any sway over the terminology developed by the adoption industry is even less likely to have an impact on any one's thinking. But I thought I'd share this info with people who may be unfamiliar. Knowing ahead of time gives us the chance to not be surprised (and defensive) if confronted with the term out in the world somewhere.

Support Groups

I've been researching starting a support group. I've thought about it off and on for some time, usually coming to two conclusions: Pro- it would be great to have a support resource, and Con- it seems like I have to be the captain of every ship I board in life... please couldn't someone else initiate this? Well, no one has, and I've recently shed one of the boats I was captaining, so now may be the time.

Thus far, I've found some helpful starting-up tips. In the list below, points with an (*) are elements that vary in the models I've looked at, but are in my list of how I'm considering structuring a local group.

Free community event listings and fliers should be enough PR to get started.*
For the best group dynamic, a maximum of 8 participants is recommended.
Meeting place should be a free venue (such as a library or other place where meeting slots can be booked).
Group is limited to adults (18+), birth/first parents and adoptees only.
A professional facilitator (psychologist, therapist, etc) is not required and, from what I've seen, not recommended.

I'm most excited to discover that a "professional" moderator is not recommended because (a) I won't need to find one and (b) I don't need to serve as moderator because we don't need a "host" for the meetings.

So initiating a group is looking much more like rowing a rowboat than piloting a tanker. I'll keep adding tips as I learn them. Meanwhile, it looks like the biggest "problem" would be getting a group larger than 8. That's a problem that's managable- it would be great!

Drama of the Gifted Child

Once in a while, when I see a small child standing quietly, wide-eyed, and curious, I find myself suddenly overtaken with anger. It's a feeling of wanting to say, "Don't you realize how vulnerable you are!? Can't you be a little more vigilant? What's wrong with you?" Then I consciously chase my racing mind down, grab my own arm, and tell myself to calm down. I remind myself that what I'm seeing in the child is myself, young, innocent, vulnerable. I know this to be true but nevertheless feel awful that I directed my feelings toward some other, small, person.

I've always felt ashamed of myself when I've had this experience and would never have talked about it, up until this point. Now, I'm reading Alice Miller's "The Drama of the Gifted Child".

The experience I've described is exactly what Miller's book is all about, (although I still haven't seen mention of what the "gifted" part of the title means and I'm halfway through the book). Miller describes how people replay the drama of their own vulnerabilities over and over in life, projecting their own realities onto others or turning their feelings of pain, fear, and humiliation on themselves, depriving themselves of self esteem.

I've heard "repetition compulsion" addressed before. Hearing about it through Alice Miller's more detailed accounts is really illuminating. I encourage anyone who's ever questioned her/his "negative" responses to life situations to read this book! It could be a life-changer.

Espionage

I'm finishing up transcribing my recent chat with late-discovery adoptee Jenni Dyman, and in the meantime have noted an interesting parallel in the news- the recently discovered Russian spies/agents.

News articles report that some of the Russian spies living as couples have children together. So, depending on the age/cognitive level of the children, it would seem that the kids could be having a "late-discovery adoption experience" of sorts: the identities of their parents are false, or lies, or "adopted." The children must be asking the question, "Who does that make me?"

The scenario brings up questions I've always had regarding the occupations that require secrecy (and have the oaths to back it up). I'm acquainted with a few people who have jobs that "they could tell you about, but then they'd have to kill you". The very nature of their jobs holds me back from asking them, on a personal level, what makes them want to, or be willing to, function in an arena of secrecy.

Working for a good cause could naturally be a factor. I also wonder whether some people get a sense of power over others by possessing secrets? I wonder what it's like to lie down in bed at night with a spouse knowing that his/her workday- a huge portion of her/his life- is locked away in a box that can't be visited.

In the "adoption healing" circle we generally consider secrets to be toxic. In my personal life, I feel like no experience is real or at its fullest, no problem is truly "navigable," until it is shared. This isn't to say carte-blanch that Secrets are Bad. And my reality isn't everybody's and doesn't need to be. But my reality leaves me very curious as to how spies "tick".

Does anyone have thoughts/insights?

Late Discovery

For those of us who have "always" known we were adopted, adoption is an ingrained component (whether conscious or unconscious) of our identities. I can only try to imagine what it would be like to find out later in life. Maybe like dropping through a trap door. Then that feeling you get when you look at your feet while standing in shallow ocean waves- the water comes in, then draws the sand around your feet away with it, and you feel dizzy.

I've always been curious about the late-discovery experience, and the fact that “late discovery” has earned this unique designation has prompted me look for articles, stories, and research. (Via internet search, I’ve mostly landed on the Post Adoption Resource Centre, Australia- link below. I’m still searching for books.)

At some point following the spring American Adoption Congress conference, I had contacted AAC Representative Jenni Dyman- a fellow New Mexican and adoptee- and learned that she is a late-discovery adoptee. I told her I’d be interested in talking with her more at length about the subject at some point. The “some point” is here. We’re going to meet in Albuquerque next week and she’s agreed to do “an interview” with me, which we’ll publish to the blog. I look forward to meeting her. I’ve got so many questions.

http://www.bensoc.org.au/uploads/documents/why-wasnt-i-told-may2001.pdf

A Bumper Sticker

(*A follow-up to my entries on Clonebeing. After receiving the great comments from the book's author, Stephen Levick, I've come to discover his web site- do check it out- http://www.drlevick.com/.)

I saw a brightly colored bumper sticker on a car in the parking lot yesterday that said, "Adoption is Awesome". My reaction was, "No it isn't. What the hell are you talking about?" followed by, "Who/what could this be an advertisement for?"

Later I met an aquaintance in the parking lot and learned that it was her car. She's a great person- outgoing, cheerful, creative- and we had a fun chat. My wheels kept churning afterwards...

I know Allie and her husband are adoptive parents to at least one of their children, and I know this because they are white and their son is black. I wondered about what meaning/s the sticker might hold for her? What is she expressing? I guessed about possibilities...

1. She loves her kids like crazy. (she does)
2. She's not hung up about being an adoptive mom and wants to express her enthusiasm- adoption has been a wonderful experience for her.
3. She wants to say, "Yes, as you can see, my son is adopted. It's a great thing for us."
4. She works with a group or agency who facilitate adoptions and she has mostly positive associations with adoption.

I don't want to presume where she's coming from, but I do wonder if she gave consideration to how birthmoms and adoptees might respond to the sticker. If so, how did she resolve that it would be a good thing for all?

I'm glad she couldn't hear the "What the f&@!" in my head earlier.

Clonebeing: The Replacement Model

As I continue my way through Stephen E. Levick's book, "Clonebeing: Exploring the Psychological and Social Dimensions," another chapter is speaking strongly to me in its relationship to adoption. Levick addresses the dimension of "replacement" as a motivation in producing a clone. His Replacement Model centers largely on bereaved parents wishing to "replace," or fill the hole left by, a deceased child. The chapter is too extensive to be described here, but the parallel with adoption lies in the concept of the "false self" so frequently addressed in adoption literature. The implications for the plight of a clone are, to me, terrifying.

When a private investigator located my mother, I learned of the "replacement reaction" that occured in my own family. My first/natural/birth parents had married because my mother was pregnant, yet ultimately opted to relinquish anyway. They remained married and, two years later, had a son together, and shortly after, had a second son. I was taken aback by the fact that they had stayed together and proceeded to have a family together. It was a bitter irony that I'd been cut out of the loop. I now understand that it was the bereavement/replacement phenomenon.

Other than puzzling over the sense of irony, I've never had any conscious emotion on it all, but the implications are obvious... responses such as resentment, rage, feelings of rejection and inadequacy, feelings of being discarded. The Replacement Model in Levick's book has made me recognize that this aspect of my adoption is worth investing some inner work on.

Clonebeing

I'm currently reading "Clonebeing: Exploring the Psychological and Social Dimensions," by psychaitrist Stephen Levick. I find the concept of cloning very unappealing, so I don't tend to want to think on it much, but the book's cover image caught my eye. It is a photograph of a man apparently in his 20's sitting beside his purported clone. They do appear to be the same man at different life stages. They are dressed exactly alike (in silvery-cold Star Trek fashion) and the uncanny artistic touches include the clones' shoes- black with deep notches in the toes, suggestive of animal hooves and the experimental animal clones we hear of occasionally.

The cover spoke to me on being "invented," similar to my own perception (or one dimention of it) of myself as an adoptee.

As a clinical psychaitrist, the author is very interested in exploring the possible impending psychological/emotional consequences clones will face. He bases his speculations on various "models," including consideration of twin, stepchild, parent-child resemblance, and replacement-child models, among others. Model 3 presented in the book is the adoption model.

The author finds in cloning and adoption two useful approaches of comparison, similarities and contrast. Similarities include the consideration of topics like chosenness, specialness, disclosure, replacement, and social marginalization. An example of contrast highlights identity formation: the adoptee knows "nothing" of his/her origins, the clone knows "everything."

The book is facinating and perhaps required, if not at least recommended, for adoptees. Adoptees could well someday be important advocates for the psycological issues that human clones will face.

(Happy?) Mother's Day

It's the hardest day in the year, in a way. My thoughts/wishes/prayers/meditations- however you say it- go out to all moms & kids today.

Love to all-
Joy

AAC & upcoming

AAC’s next annual conference is being held in Orlando, Florida, April 14-17. Watch for registration information this coming spring- www.americanadoptioncongress.org

And, a conference closer on the horizon--

Shedding Light on the Adoption Experience, VI
An Educational Conference about Realities: The Lifelong Effects of Adoption and the Need for Family Preservation

September 24-25, 2010, Park Central Hotel, New York City

Presented by:
Adoption Crossroads/Adoption Healing, with
Baby Scoop Era Research Initiative
Origins, Inc. Australia
Origins, Canada

*Noted presenters include Betty Jean Lifton, Joe Soll, Rickie Solinger, Nancy Verrier, Ann Fessler, and many more!
https://www.adoptionhealing.com/Conference/

"Home," Mules, and the Soul

During the AAC conference and immediately afterward, I had several “big picture” thoughts, one of which would probably sound peculiar to people. The summary was, “It [attending the conference] is like volunteering to be kicked by mules. But in a good way.”

I’ll explain. The emotions that the conference evoked in me were exhausting. I arrived home feeling like I’d barely survived a stampede of some kind, beat up and weak. Concurrently, it was a wonderful feeling. It was purge of emotional toxins. I felt less “alone.” And especially thrilling was the sense that I had reconnected with my Self.

One of my spiritual gurus, scholar Joseph Campbell, used an expression, “the burning point of life.” The phrase refers to those encounters in which a person is engaged in a completely immersed experience of his/her own self—an experience that doesn’t come, for many of us, from going to the office each day. Campbell talked about how, especially in our modern society, most of our daily actions are economically and socially motivated. These actions don’t usually “come out of your life,” he said. [My understanding of how he used the word “life” here means “life force,” or “soul,” or however one might term such an idea.

Now the memories of the conference are faded. While it’s a relief to be resting from the tumultuousness of adoption emotions, life feels rather listless and shallow, too.

Note to self: seek out mule stampede more often.

AAC- Thinking (and thinking, and thinking...)

No matter how much I think about, or try to understand, the experience of being adopted- I so often land at this one "conclusion"...

"No one is coming back for you, Joy."

No one is coming back for you.

AAC- Getting the Word Out

A new friend from the AAC conference and I were reflecting on how many folks there could be out there who don't know that support resources such as American Adoption Congress exist. I was reminded of all the time that I was unaware that adoption-healing, and the politics of adoption, were finally being talked about.

Not long after our conversation, I was looking through the American Classifieds paper (that cournecopia of great stuff that you didn't even know you needed) and I came to that awful category, "Adoption". Loving, secure couple seeks to give your infant a wonderful life... all expenses paid, etc. It occured to me what a great place this Adoption section would be to advertise resources such as AAC.

ADOPTEE? BIRTHMOTHER? Resources and emotional support are available...

This type of announcement could run in hometown papers, magazines, etc. American Classifieds would be an example of a grass-roots, low-cost investment. Another benefit of running it in American Classifieds in the Adoption category is that its presence in that section could heighten the awareness of potential adoptive parents, and the public, that adoption has many facets beyond procuring a baby.

I'm really excited about the potential for this idea. I may begin with running an ad directing people to Adoption Experience Workshop....

AAC- Outside Perspectives

In her book, "Trauma and Recovery: From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror," Judith Herman posits that debilitating psychological effects of trauma are the same across the entire range of traumatic experience. (Traumas she discusses in the book include the experience of physical and sexual abuse, warfare, and traumatic events such as accidents and natural disasters, among others.) But Herman also points out that the process of healing from traumas must begin with event-specific therapy- physical abuse survivors work and heal amongst other physical abuse survivors, Katrina survivors with other survivors, etc. Over time, if therapy goes well, survivors comprehend the more universal aspects of trauma as human experience.

The AAC conference included attendees and presenters who were "outsiders" to adoption but were professionals in areas of trauma and recovery. Their insights were valid and valuable. Yet I wondered whether one aspect of their presentations (their presentations of themselves, that is)was problematic, at least for some triad members. Given Judith Herman's observations on the arc of healing from trauma, there could be some triad members who are not "ready" to hear a comment such as, "I'm not a triad member, but I am an incest survivor," for example.

I understand the sentiment behind what's being said, especially after reading Judith Herman's book. By the same token, I personally could not stand among, say, a group of war veterans and say, "I understand where you're at. I'm not a war vet, but I am an adoptee." I'd be interested to hear others' thoughts on this.

I highly recommend Judith Herman's book. ***An important note..."Trauma and Recovery" does not directly address or acknowledge adoption/separation as a form of trauma. However, the adoptee who has connected with and absorbed the concept of having been traumatized by separation will readily identify with the concepts described in the book.

AAC- "the Outsiders"

Attendees at the recent American Adoption Congress conference included a small number of non-triad-membmers. One of these folks identified herself to me as "an Outsider". The "Outsiders" in attendance were interested, concerned professionals seeking to learn more about the adoption experience.

"If the only ones advocating to abolish slavery had been the slaves, we would still have slavery," the Outsider explained. Her assertion was quickly recognized by AAC veterans, who now plan to reach out to more outside professionals- such as counsellors and attorneys- to strenghen the advocacy movement.

I learned that a few attendees were of the opinion that Ousiders did not belong at the at AAC conferences. Given the highly personal nature of conference sessions, it's understandable that some may feel vulnerable and uncomfortable with people "outside the loop" present. However, I have the impression that this group is a minority, and I speculate that it has much to do with where an individual is at on her/his healing journey.

"Outsiders" were my earliest champions in my search for self. They were, in fact, my only confidants early on. I can't imagine having made my journey without them. My Outsider support network, comprised of both mothers and non-mothers, instinctively understood the devastating problem of separating mother and child. Their support provided a unique validation that the "preacher and the choir" could never impart.

I personally send my deepest thanks to all of the "Outsiders" whose compassion leads them to learn about adoption issues and take the time to engage in advocacy

AAC- a place for everyone

The recent American Adoption Conference was not the first organized forum on adoption that I have attended. The very first was a Healing Weekend led by Joll Soll of Adoption Crossroads.

Joe's Healing Weekends are incredibly intense, and interpersonal, experiences. I remember trying to anticipate what the experince would be like, and one of my biggest fears going in to it- the potential for rage. To be specific, I was terrified that I would feel rage toward the birthmothers who attended. I was puzzled that the Weekend was structured for both adoptees and birthmothers together. I lived with such "full-time rage" anyway, and I imagined that the concept of "birthmother" could be one of the sources.

I arrived for the Weekend and discovered, in all of 10 minutes or less, that I had no feeling of anger, whatsoever, toward the birthmoms there. Even more suprisingly (if I could have been more suprised), I was comforted by their presence.

I think of this because, like Joe's workshop, the AAC Conference included both adoptees and birthmothers. I inquired with AAC President Eileen McQuade about the history of the conference and the organization, and she filled me in that, upon its inception in 1981, AAC was designed for all triad members.

Adoptees and birthmothers working through their experiences together seems like a natural fit to me now. A no-brainer. Moms and children aren't at odds with each other, they're at odds with their experiences. They're on two sides of a glass and can look to each other for understanding, reassurance, and support.

I'm wondering whether others who attended the conference have thoughts on this dynamic.

AAC Experience

An American Adoption Congress conference is not like a common, professional conference. One of the speakers described the tone. "At an AAC conference, you can grab someone in the hall and ask for a hug if you need one." (I'd had the experience earlier that day.)

This year's AAC conference, held in Sacramento, March 18 - 21, was my first. It couldn't have been of higher caliber in any way! (Ironically, it couldn't have been any more painful, either, but facing demons is like that...) Adoptees, birthmothers, clinicians, and even a few adoptive parents (wow, thank you!), attended. For a detailed outline of programming, I'll direct you to the conference program- http://americanadoptioncongress.org/pdf/AAC_2010_Conference_Program.pdf. Consider joining this invaluable organization and attending upcoming events.

I'll spend several entries reflecting on this 4 day experience.

DAY 1- My first impression, as I looked around the room during the welcome keynote, was the sudden thought, "These are all really strong people!" I felt humbled.

A few minutes passed and I heard myself saying, to me, "Joy, you're here too, you know." It were as if I heard it with my head tilted in curiosity, wondering what it could mean.

"Being"

“Being”

Adoptee and author Joe Soll speaks of people as having “different ways of ‘being’ in the world.” He points to the fact that these differences have the potential of being quite pronounced in an adoptive household, given that there are no shared genetics. I was once told by a therapist that my adoptive parents and I were “cut from an entirely different cloth.”

Dad’s a business professor, Mom’s a nurse. I’m an artist. I visualize my experience this way:

The world is a huge ocean, and Mom and Dad are in a boat. They deal in pragmatics, there on the surface. Steering, refilling the tank, looking at a constant horizon. They aren’t shallow people, but their lives are task-oriented, what-you-see-is-what-you-get.

I live undersea in metaphor and psychology. Everything I experience gets thought, and rethought, and thought about again. And I really need to talk about the thoughts. That’s where the catch came in. My talking was always met with silence. I took the silence to mean that I was being denied the right to be myself and denied their engagement in my life. It made for a very, very lonely youth. A youth of loneliness and rage.

My mom once told me, “You see things that aren’t there.” I finally understand that, for her, those things really aren’t there. She can’t see the squid and seaweed and coral and shipwrecks that I am “being” amongst, down here deep under the ocean’s surface. It’s nice to finally understand that and to be past the rage. It’s hard to stop grieving the loneliness.

Orphaned

Orphaned

The recent movie “Orphan” has generated discussion in the adoption circle. In a nutshell, the “orphan” adopted by a young couple turns out to be a Damian of sorts, leaving the couple desperate as to what to do with their adopted, spawn of Satan, child.

It’s very reasonable that the adoption advocacy community would give attention to the unfortunate framing of adoption presented in “Orphan”. Meanwhile, I also can’t help but think, “Yes, but also remember, a bad movie is a bad movie.” Whatever the case, the movie does point to a sentiment that is probably a part of many adoptive parents’ experience- anxiety surrounding their new child’s largely unknown background. Inevitably, parents must wonder, whether consciously or not, “What did we get?” The child simply can’t be thought of as “a chip off the old block”.

No adoptive parents come to find they’ve adopted “the bad seed”. They discover they’ve found a little person who they’re crazy in love with. But anxiety can remain. The child’s traits or talents could be ongoing reminders that the adopted child isn’t fully and completely “theirs”. This could be disappointing or even threatening to adoptive parents.

Ever feel like there may be things in yourself that you’ve forgotten about- things that you wanted to do, or to “be”- that you put aside in the interest of “fitting in”?

The Break

Small kids love talking with their parents about anything and everything. Life’s an open book. One day, perhaps in early in adolescence, kids start holding some things back. Individuating from one’s parents involves a certain sense of privacy. New boundaries go up as kids break away into their own adulthood.

I wonder what it means for adoptees when the first “break” in shared (talked about) experiences happens much earlier...

As a small child, at bedtime, I’d often ask about my birthmother. There in the dark, I’d ask my adoptive mother why my first mother gave me up. The answer was always, “I don’t know,” but I kept asking anyway. I’m guessing I may have been about 6 years old when I asked for the last time. The reason? The “last time” was the very first time that I was consciously, fully aware that my adoptive mother was uncomfortable talking about the subject. It was making her feel bad. I didn’t ask again and didn’t mention the topic of adoption for another 15 years.

Does anyone think that this kind of experience makes adolescence & individuation harder for adoptees than for non-adoptees?

Year 40

40 was a hard year for me. It was a year of reflection on aging, loss, missed opportunities. Yes, there was reflection on accomplishments, too. Perhaps most significantly, the number 40 represented- with heavy force- the reality that I will not in my lifetime be having a child. I have varying degrees of sadness- and not- about this. Working through it, I’ve discovered a curious notion of consolation.

“If there were ever a time in the scope of history for a woman to be childless, now is it,” I realized. Today, when a woman is childless, perhaps our society thinks about her “self-centeredness,” or of her “not-knowing-what-she’s-missing,” or of infertility, but I doubt that the term “barren” comes to anyone’s mind. A woman is free to elect not to parent, live as a single person, pursue almost any career, and own a complete identity that doesn’t involve procreation.

Just one generation ago, my [adoptive] mom didn’t enjoy such luxury. When she was young, she was told that her career opportunities were Teacher, Secretary, or Nurse. (She chose nursing. I would have died choosing any of those options.) And at that time, in the 50s, it was still understood that raising a family was still woman’s job #1.

My mom raised an adoptive family while living with the knowledge of her infertility. Had adoption not been available to her, she would have felt even further removed from being “normal” or “like everyone else” or “worthwhile”. I have no children but will never have to know whether I may in fact be infertile. I can always imagine that I could have / would have had a baby if I’d wanted. I live in an era where woman have broad choices. Regarding the point of my having no children, I’m really relieved to be here-and-now.

Reflection

How can we know ourselves? Never by reflection, but only through action. Begin at once to do your duty and immediately you will know what is inside you.
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Something came to me when I came across this quote by Goethe...

When I started a search for my (first) mother I was aware that I was also trying to find myself. What I never anticipated was how fast the “finding myself” part would happen. It was exactly three weeks. The three week mark was the time it took for my birthparents’ non-identifying biography to arrive in the mail from the adoption agency.

Passionately contemplating ideas surrounding “adoption” and “self” may have, over the years, brought me some gain, though I can’t say exactly what. But asking for that letter and receiving it took me directly to Me. I’d empowered myself, taken ownership. The self I was looking for had been there all along, lost under the weight of secrets and shame and grief. Work is always ongoing, but that first action was the catalyst that took me back to center.

Hall of Mirrors

Chris is a shy little guy, 5 years old and black. His parents, Allie and Hal, are white. When I met Chris, I couldn’t help wanting to reach out and say, “I’m adopted, too! Can I help you?”

I’m not sure exactly what in the world “Can I help you?” meant, but I wanted to say it. I think I wanted to invite him to talk about being adopted.

I was aware that my gaze must surely be telling him that I was thinking of his “adopted-ness”. How he must get this all the time- so many thoughts coming through so many eyes. Chris doesn’t mirror his parents. People are wondering, “Where did he come from?”, as did I from my own perspective.

I wonder if the mirroring that Chris is getting from the world-at-large seems to tell him he’s an alien from another planet. Is it like living in the Fun House at the carnival where every mirror tells you something different- and distorted- as though you don’t share the same shape as the rest of the human community? I know I’ve felt this way and I’m not even in an interracial adoptive family.

It must be equally crazy for adoptive parents. Their love for their child is colorblind, yet society, broadly, is not.

Words don't tend to be enough to "cure" any adoptee of insecurities. After meeting Chris, I'm left wondering, "If it were somehow appropriate to tell Chris one supportive thing- as though I could whisper it in his ear, one adoptee to another- what would it be?"

Mirrors Work Two Ways

"She looks like her mother," one said.

"Oh, I think she looks like Dave," the other countered.

I don't look like either of my adoptive parents. I don't now, and I didn't then, when I was 10. My parents' friends were, evidently, seeing what they expected to see.

I stood there chagrined and anxious, knowing that, rightfully, clarification was order. I was adopted. Yet I knew clarification wouldn't come and that I didn't want it to anyway, not there in that moment. I looked to my dad in solidarity. I got something else. He was beaming with pride and, to my account, effectively participating in the collective lie. Eerily, he clearly, sincerely believed it!

We had all looked to the mirrors of one another and corroborated our own realities. The ladies perceived their own presuppositions. My dad saw his pure, sheer love for his daughter. I saw the secrecy of my own origins.

I stood there "safe" in an awkward social situation, yet my own truth had been abandoned. This must be the very definition of the emotion we call "loneliness".

Mirrors, Mirrors, on the Wall

In his book, "Coming to our Senses: Body and Spirit in the Hidden History of the West," Morris Berman devotes an entire chapter to the mirror, exploring how its invention and proliferation affected human perceptions of Self. Berman's concepts gave me an idea for an experiment. (I was in art school and working on a series of self portraits at the time, which might have influenced my idea...)

I wondered what it would be like to live a week without a mirror. My first thoughts surrounded vanity- would I go out into the world each morning with Sideshow Bob hair, or with snot coming out of my nose? I could live with wacky hair, I decided, and you don't need a mirror to know your nose is dripping... The experiment proceeded.

I covered the bathroom mirror- the only mirror in the house- with brown paper. I knew that out of habit I'd look to the mirror first thing, each time I went in to the room. I wondered how I'd react, not being able to verify my appearance or confirm my own presence. Would it be too stressful to live out the week without a mirror?

Curiously, I had only one response upon looking to that mirror, and it was purely visceral. Each time I looked to the mirror and saw brown paper, I felt my stomach drop like a deep drum. I snapped completely to my center, looking for myself there.

I wondered whether this experience could be likened to narcissism-effect ascribed to adoptees. Birthmother, as a mirror, is absent, so the adoptee looks inward.

Actually, the experiment could have "meant" all sorts of things. But it was a great experience for me. When I looked inside myself, I found my Center and there I saw myself. I came away totally content.

Mirrors- Looking for the Self

And since you know you cannot see yourself,
so well as by reflection, I, your glass,
will modestly discover to yourself,
that of yourself which you yet know not of. -William Shakespeare

We’re all "living mirrors," interacting and reflecting to one another the entire range of interpersonal emotions, such as love, affection, envy, and desire. These relationships are what give us our lives. There is truly no such thing as a “me” without a “you.”

Adoptees are deprived of mirroring from their birthmothers at the beginning of their lives. Researchers believe that there is a primal mirroring between infant and mother which can only occur between the two, and that only the birthmother’s mirroring has the capacity to provide the infant with a genuine sense of wholeness and self. [See the research of Donald Winnecott to learn more.] Without the experience of this primal mirroring, adoptees are left forever looking for Mother and therefore seeking themselves, and with a deep sense of anxiety and existential urgency.

The search for self is lifelong for adoptees. Thinking of the search's manifestation in my own childhood, I think of characteristics that I singled out as reflecting my adoptive status. I remember identifying two very concrete things. First, I was the only member of our family- or of anyone I knew, for that matter- who didn’t have a middle name. (I gave myself one later, but that’s another story...) Second, I was the only member of my family with brown eyes.

I thoroughly fixated on these two “problems.” I noted them frequently and was given reassurance that brown eyes, and having no middle name, were perfectly nice things. They weren’t nice to me. They corroborated for me that I didn’t, by nature and by devise, “belong” in my adoptive home.

It occurs to me now that, although these practical aspects of life were the kind of concrete factors a child might focus on, they were also deeply- and perhaps not coincidentally, symbolic. I perceived I was robbed of a name, in this case a middle name. In reality, I had been robbed of a “first name” my birthfamily's name. Additionally, my adoptive families’ blue eyes were substantiation to me that I was not looking into the eyes [mirrors] I most needed. I was being robbed of my sense of self.

Do you remember any facets of your childhood that reminded you that your adoptive family were actually your “second” family?

Community: "Rescuing" those in need...

Community and Crisis
Crisis, such as the recent earthquake in Haiti, can bring out the best in people. People rush in to help and rescue others, often at great risk to themselves. The world watches and an instinctive outpouring of compassion and aid rushes forth.
Crisis also invites trouble, such as looting. Akin to looting, there is the danger of an opportunism you may not have thought of- the alleged “rescue” of orphans via international adoption.


Last week, 53 Haitian orphans arrived in the United States, their pending adoptions to American families having been fast-tracked as a rescue and relief effort. In all, 900 children awaiting adoption could be affected by this fast-tracking process. While these children had already been identified as orphans and potential adoptees prior to the earthquake, there are loose estimates of thousands of children being orphaned by the earthquake. Amongst the crisis and chaos, Haitian children are vulnerable to uncertain family-reunification efforts. They are also vulnerable to predatory systems such as organized child slavery and prostitution… and to kidnapping into the international adoption industry.


International adoptions, as with most domestic adoptions, involve the facet of commerce. When a child is adopted, someone has profited; an agency, a lawyer, a doctor, or perhaps an underground “broker.” An organization with even the best of intentions profits, if not monetarily, in furthering its particular moral agenda.
America and other developed nations are fertile ground (pun intended) for the commerce of adoption. Americans have ready access to birth control, and American society widely accepts single parenting. Statistically, there are more couples wanting to adopt than there are American-born babies available for adoption. (Note the newspaper classified sections where prospective adoptive parents resort to advertising themselves, promising an ideal life for the child and “all-expenses-paid” support to the expectant mother.)


An adoption advocacy organization recently posted this position regarding adoption and the crisis in Haiti:
We understand why people want to open their arms and hearts to the children of the Haitian earthquake, but adoption is not emergency or humanitarian aid or a solution to Haiti’s ongoing problems. The immediate rescue effort in Haiti should focus on emergency services, individual and family care and family reunification, not family, community, and cultural destruction and the strip-mining of children. –bastardette.blogspot.com


Have you ever given thought to the “commoditization” of adoptable babies? Is it hard for you to believe that adoption can be an "industry of profit"?

Community- Talk about sensitive!...

I recently joined a national adoption-advocacy group. I’ve been enjoying the thought of the camaraderie of it and have been especially looking forward to attending my first national conference, (hosted by them).

A couple days ago, I had some confusion about using a feature of the organization’s web site and I e-mailed their contact person, asking her if she could re-send a previous e-mail I’d received explaining the new web feature. I received a reply, and it started like this-

“Dear Joy, I resent the welcome e-mail just now…” It continued with a reference to a web site separate from the group’s site. It also had an e-mail address attached that wasn’t obviously anything related to the organization. I was confused. Had my e-mail appeared as some sort of solicitation? What could have happened? I’d included my business name, Adoption Experience Workshop, only as a reference for them in finding my membership information. What in the world did I do?...

My logic was overtaken as I bristled with anxiety at the idea of being resented by someone in the group. Even if I had somehow sent something mistakenly, I couldn’t conceive of a professional opening a reply in such a way. I’d have to cancel my reservation for the conference, never renew my membership, everything and anything I could think of to protest the unprofessionalism- they’d have to fire that person before I’d renew!

In an earlier time in my life, I would have left it at that and I’d go off to fester on it for some time, feeling wounded and victimized. Fortunately, I’ve learned since then. Logic, returning to me quickly, had me on the telephone with the group’s president a few minutes after I read the e-mail. I apologized for my emotion, told her about the e-mail, and explained that I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The president caught on quickly to the content of the e-mail. (You may have guessed it by now, too.) The sender meant to say “re-sent,” not “resent.” I hadn’t thought of a type-o. Talk about sensitive!

I apologized to the president and, able to laugh at myself, (a long, hard-won skill), I said, “Wow, I really am a typical over-sensitive adoptee!” She mentioned that the sender of the e-mail was also an adoptee and would never have meant to hurt or offend. I pictured the sender, a fellow adoptee, and smiled to myself. I was back in the Community again.

Have you had experiences where you questioned your belongingness in a group, later to understand that your insecurities were “all in your head,” so to speak? What did it take- time, or accomplishments, or lots of reassurance from other members- to help you really feel comfortable? Did you ever consider that insecurity arising from adoption issues could have been, to some extent, at play?

Community- Safety

I happened by accident upon a book title on Amazon one day. The book's title, “Adoption Healing,” struck me deeply. I had never heard, or imagined, those two words put together before. It was a curious (and promising) idea, I thought. I ordered the book and it arrived that same week.

And then it sat. And it sat more. It sat so long I began to wonder why I hadn’t just taken it to the used book store yet. I had already concluded that it didn’t look like the “right read” for me, yet I just kept letting it sit. I avoided it. It was almost like I was afraid to walk too close to it. I didn’t want to deal with it, not even in taking it to the book store. A couple months passed. I grew less wary. Those words on the pages- words I hadn’t even looked at yet- were settling in to our house, making themselves comfy on the shelf and maybe watching TV over my shoulder at night. I became unafraid to walk past them. And one day, prompted by nothing in particular, I picked the words up and finally read them.

Reading “Adoption Healing” challenged me to think about, and really deal with, my “adoption emotions.” This book represented the most painful aspect of my life. Having it under my roof prompted subconscious emotions to surface. I needed time for my courage to grow and my curiosity to percolate. When I was finally ready to read “Adoption Healing,” I found insight, validation, and a newfound sense that a whole community of people (adoptees) were out there in the world struggling with the same issues I was.

That book was a life-changer. Reading it was the single best thing I ever did for myself. It was a pivotal step to putting me on a new, more content, less isolated path. I had feared what I most needed… help with my pain and a “community” (though not yet personal acquaintances) who could help me.

Feeling part of any community hinges on having things in common with the other members- this is obviously step one in engaging in a community, right? Well, no, not really. That’s step 2. Step one is about having enough sense of trust in others to feel safe enough engaging with them in the first place. Step 1 doesn’t always come so naturally or smoothly for adoptees. Adoptees, consciously or not, can have a very hard time believing that even their very first community- the adoptive family- is an inherently safe and stable place to be (even though the family may have indeed been completely safe and reliable). So, in my case, it took the relative safety of reading a book about adoption- which I had also been afraid of!) to prepare me for even thinking about engaging in person-to-person conversations with adoptees, about adoption.

I’d offer that, in reading this blog, you’ve just accomplished a courageous act. Participating here could be preparing you for taking that really important “physical” leap into dialouging with the people who make up the community of Adoptees. They’re at support groups and group counseling sessions and conferences. You can’t imagine the soul food these settings provide until you experience them. But in the mean time, I’d like to point you toward some excellent “readable” resources.

BOOKS: There are an abundance of books in publication now on adoption, easily findable on Amazon. Different books suit different sensibilities and there are lots of great books to choose from. There are two books in particular that I consider must-reads for adoptees, as I consider them to be the most important works addressing the “adoptee-experience”. The first is “The Primal Wound; Understanding the Adopted Child,” by Nancy Newton Verrier. The second- which is the book I referred to in this blog- is “Adoption Healing; A Path to Recovery,” by adoptee and therapist Joe Soll. These two books address the core emotional, or even spiritual, aspects of adoption in a way that really provides the building blocks for healing and navigating adoption related wounds. Don’t miss them.

ONLINE: Author Joe Soll also has a web site, adoptioncrossroads.com. It’s a plethora of information on adoption. The site has a 24/7 chat room for adoptees and Joe personally hosts a nightly chat session.

ORGANIZATIONS: The American Adoption Congress (americanadoptioncongress.org) and the Evan B. Donaldson Institute (adoptioninstitute.org). Both organizations advocate for changing and improving adoption practices and policies. Their efforts include political advocacy, education, and research. Take a look at how hard these organizations are working for the benefit of adoptees. Read read read. Until the time comes when you’re ready to talk. And then you'll maybe find that you can’t seem to stop talking… fearlessly…

Community- Through the Looking Glass

Natural disasters, warfare, physical and sexual assault, and domestic abuses including verbal abuse; all are recognized as instances in which someone has been hurt. Society offers help to the sufferers of these traumas in the form of medical attention, counseling and legal protections. Most pointedly, society extends its empathy to them.

Then there are adoptees… Adoptees are stolen away from what many refer to as the most sacred relationship in life- mother/child. They are handed to strangers. They are robbed of their names, their histories, their biological truths, and their existential anchor in the world- their birthmothers. And then they’re told that none of this is significant, nothing really “happened,” they really haven’t lost anything at all.

I call adoption the “through the looking glass” trauma. All other traumas are instances where something that shouldn’t have happened did. Adoption is a scenario in which something that should have happened and didn’t. The “should-have” is the continuation of the mother-child bond and all the universal continuities that go with it.

Because adoption trauma is not the result of an action, but rather is the result of a non-action, or void, it goes broadly unacknowledged as a traumatic experience. Adoptees are often even expected to be grateful for their placement into a “better life.” Adoptees who are aware that they’re experiencing pain related to adoption are left feeling “crazy” and very, very alone.

Did you know that about 1 of 10 people in America are directly affected by adoption, being either adoptee/birth parent/adoptive parent, or living in the immediate family of one of those parties? When you think about it, 1 in 10 is a lot. If you’re in a restaurant full of 30 people, there are two other people in the room with you who are affected by adoption. If you’re surrounded by 100 people in your workplace, there are 10 who are “in the adoption boat” with you. We’re all basically tripping over each other and we don’t even know it. Meanwhile, we’re walking through life feeling alone and isolated in our pain.

This month we’ll talk about finding ways of connecting with others who are struggling with adoption-related trauma. For starters, take a day to notice people around you, knowing that many of them must be "Through the Looking Glass" of adoption along with you. Can you really imagine this truth? Does everyone else look “normal” in contrast to your “crazy”? Do you feel comforted by the thought that other adoptees are nearby? Do you feel even lonelier since their adoptive status is unknown to you?

Estimate how many people you’ve crossed paths with in a day- everyone from family to friends to work acquaintances to people in the grocery store. Divide that number by 10. That’s how many folks you’ve probably encountered who well may be suffering loss related to adoption.

Community- Connecting Threads

“I really love used clothes,” I pointed to out to my friend as I showed off my new, hand-me-down sweater. “It makes you feel connected,” she said. A light went on. Yes, it was a connection! And what’s more personal than clothing? I continued thinking on this later. Was it the sentiment behind the gift of the sweater that was so special? Was it some actual juju, or DNA embedded in the fibers, that conveyed “connection vibes”? It didn’t really matter. I just wished I got hand-me-downs more often. (Most of my friends & family aren’t my size.)

The TV show "Northern Exposure" (of the early 90’s) had a great episode that relates to my sweater scenario. The story goes like this-

A native Alaskan Inuit wants to make the town doctor an honorary tribe member in thanks for medical care she received. The tribe members begin conducting initiation rituals, sometimes to the surprise of the doctor. One evening a man appears on the doctor’s doorstep and invites himself in. Instead of visiting with his host, he quietly paces the house, examining the living room and kitchen slowly and thoughtfully. The doctor impatiently asks for an explanation. Finally, the visitor makes a suggestive gesture; he unplugs the doctor’s coffee maker, picks it up and leaves the house with it, the baffled protests of the doctor following him out the door.

Days pass and there are more visits by tribe members who each help themselves to one of the “uninitiated’s” possessions. The doctor grows increasingly irritated. Just as he’s about to snap, a visit from the coffee-maker bandit turns the tide. The man has returned to the doctor’s house with his own coffee maker in hand- a gift in exchange for the doctor’s machine. Visits continue- throw blankets, clock radio, cooking utensils, houseplants. The house fills with used goods until each “stolen” article has been replaced with another. A community-building ritual has taken place. The tribe and the doctor have shared little pieces of themselves with one another.

The storyline makes me think about my first apartment. I remember the fun I had selecting a new comforter, a block of kitchen knives, some tapestries for the walls. The new things were markers on my passage into adult life. As I continue exploring that apartment in my mind, I start picturing “all the stuff I didn’t have to buy”. The Revere Ware from my mom, the kitchen table from my aunt & uncle, dish towels, lamps, and a set of mugs from my college times at a favorite restaurant. At the time I regretted that I couldn’t shop for and hand-pick every item of my new life. I felt “stuck” with some of the stuff - I always thought that Revere Cookware was ugly and that plaid dish towels belonged in the homes of geeks.

Today, if I imagine that apartment minus the hand-me-downs... those connecting threads between me and others and the past... it looks a hotel room with the personality of a slot in a parking lot. The hand-me-down, checkered dish towels were ritual objects. The bath towels were old friends. Even that damn Revere Ware that I always thought was so ugly became meaningful, its significance stretching beyond its utilitarian function. I still have a few pieces of it today (though I try to avoid using them, due to their enduring ugliness).

What are your most special connecting threads? Clothes, gifts, stories? One of my current “sharing” routines is splitting a meal with my friend when we meet at the pub or the coffee shop. (We eat whether we’re hungry or not.) If you don’t really have any sharing rituals, maybe you’d enjoy creating some. Maybe a friend would even swap toasters with you…

Community- Alone at the Party

My Dad (adoptive Dad) organized the mail on the dining room table. Twice a year there would appear letters from the Children's Home of Pittsburgh, the adoption agency that handled my adoption. One of the letters would include a return envelope. I somehow understood that the envelope was to be returned with a check in it. I imagined the check to be a thank-you present, or an obligation, to the Children's Home for the Home’s bringing me to my adoptive family. The check showed the Home how good my parents were and how well they were taking care of me.

If the letter wasn't the thank-you letter, it was the Invitation. Each year the Home hosted a party for the adoptive families who were created thanks to the Home. Both my brother and I hated going. My brother remembers being encouraged with the enticement of cookies and crackers. We didn't want any cookies and crackers. I remember throwing up on my dresses on the car rides there. Mom always planned ahead and brought an extra for me to change in to.

The party seemed to me to be full of strange and odd beings. The other kids looked normal, but I thought they couldn't be, given that they were adopted like me, and, like me, they were given away by birthparents who did not want them. I definitely wasn’t normal. How could they be? But the reason the other children seemed so strange was that I could see anything “wrong” with them. And I couldn’t see whether they were as uncomfortable, and upset, as I was to be at the Party.

I was at the party to do a job. The job was to show the Ladies who worked at the Home what a good job my parents were doing and to show them how happy I was but I couldn’t imagine that’s what they were seeing. At the Parties I was nothing less than agonized until the moment we stepped out the front door into the cold winter air and started the drive back home. On that hour-long drive I comforted myself with the thought that I was as far as I could possibly be from the next year's Party at the Children's Home of Pittsburgh.

Why was the Party so miserable for me? I've heard that many kids enjoyed that one time of year when they were "around other kids like them." I think I was so pained about the party because all the year through our family pretended as if our family were, let's say, just like families created by Nature rather than arranged by an agency. I worked very hard to believe this fantasy, this falsehood. In the process, I struggled with a lot of pain all on my own; there was a Birthmother out there somewhere who didn't keep me. I didn't know why, and no one could- or would- tell me. Maybe if I convinced myself that none of this mattered, then it wouldn't be real and it wouldn't hurt.

Then once a year came the Party. My adoptive status was to be celebrated? How could it be? It was like celebrating everything that was "wrong" with me, that went unacknowledged and even denied in my household the rest of year through. What in the world was there to celebrate? Perhaps those whose adoptive status was not a taboo subject in their homes found camaraderie at the Party. It was a place where they felt not-alone. Or maybe they were bolder people than I who reveled in a once-a-year coming-out party that acknowledged their adoptions. Everyone is different. I just know that the Party was for me, rather than a festivity, an anxiety attack.

So much has changed for me since then. I talk online about adoption experience, hoping to help others do the same. It took a lot of hard work to get here, learning to take the risk of expressing myself and learning to trust my instinct that being adopted is a different life experience than that of being a birth-child. I’ve learned that my pain has been a real and legitimate experience.

Have you ever been in a situation where you were clearly acknowledged to be an adoptee amongst adoptees (or another adoptee)? Think back to the first time you experienced it. What was it like for you?

What's in a Name? "Sommersby"

December's movie night topic was the movie "Sommersby" (with Richard Gere & Jodie Foster). The story goes that Gere's character has been in battle in the Civil War and returns "home" to wife Jodie Foster. But "home" is actually his new, adopted home. The Gere character has assumed the identity of "Sommersby", a comrade who was killed in battle who happened to look just like Gere.(Far-fetched, I know, but then they didn't have many photos then as reminders... we can suspend disbelief and go with it.)

The Gere character despises himself based on his own past and he will settle for nothing less than reinventing himself. Meanwhile, in the intimacy of the "marraige", Foster realizes that Gere is not indeed her husband. Yet a relationship grows and Foster, along with the community, embrace the new "Sommersby". A problem ensues. The actual Sommersby, now dead, was responsible for serious crimes and is to stand trial. Gere's Sommersby must face trial and its possible outcome- a guilty verdict punishable by death.

As the story progresses Gere's hope for an "innocent" verdict grows bleak. And additional complication arises. Gere learns Foster's character has become pregnant with their child. Gere's only hope to escape execution is to confess to the court that he has stolen the real Sommerby's identity. Even the community, who have accepted him as one of their own, encourage him to confess to "identity theft" so that he can escape being hanged. Gere refuses to confess and he is sentenced to death. Gere goes to his death saturated in his pride, leaving wife and unborn child behind.

Gere was desperate to disown his questionable past and he hinged the whole idea of this "purge" on his name-change. The concept so consumed him that he abandoned a wife and child. In becoming a "new man", Sommersby ultimately seems to have become a lesser man, rejecting profound responsibilites, and love, for his ego. Sommersby's sense- the antithesis of Shakespeare's "What's in a name, a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet"- was that a name is everything...

Can you imagine yourself ever inventing a new name for yourself? Say you were moving to a new city and wanted to a fresh start, to become someone new. Everyone in your new life would know you only by your invented name. What would the pros and cons be?