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That was fast...

I've taken the position of New Mexico Representative for American Adoption Congress. Within about two weeks of it becoming "official", I received an e-mail from a first-mom who had just renewed her lapsed membership. She is living in the same town as I am. I couldn't be more thrilled. I told her I've felt like I'm living in the Outback (which isn't that much of an overstatement for Southern New Mexico, actually).

Paula and I promptly scheduled a lunch and talked for almost 3 hours. I was amazed to learn of how active she's been in advocacy over the years. She worked for a legislator in Austin for several years and while there saw some adoption legislation moving through. She also organized many regional "retreats", informal, weekend gatherings for moms and adoptees. I told her I had been thinking about working towards exactly that, probably for New Mexico in Socorro (mid-state) and hopefully at some point in Tucson for El Paso, TX, New Mexico, Arizona, and maybe Southern Calif, depending on how ambitious people are about driving.

Anyway, won't recount our entire visit (obviously) but want to express my excitement, particularly because I plan to draw her in for some legislative insight/ideas for New Mexico. (She already knows more about the NM statutes than I do at this point.) Meanwhile I'm studying-up and will be at the Operation Identity conference in Albuquerque, which will include a session on NM's confidential intermediary program.

Original birth certificates

I learned that Pennsylvania will be looking at legislation to open original birth records (OBC's) to adoptees. Strange thing is, when someone excitedly told me of this, I felt I "should" be excited, but really it didn't mean much.

I've located my birthparents and know their names. I have my fake birth certificate that includes(supposedly, my) baby footprints. If I was given a birth name, my natural mother doesn't remember doing so- yet she does she remember my birth date, either- so maybe I did have a birth name. I guess the creepy gap to be discovered is to see if I'm named "Baby Girl" on the paperwork.

There must be some kind of layers of experience in receiving one's OBC. Just can't envision what they'd be.

Advocacy Opportunity for Birthparents

**Important Advocacy Opportunity for Birthparents

*American Adoption Congress is asking everyone to circulate word about this important project (info below) via all available channels- social media, blogs, web sites, fliers, word of mouth, etc. Feel free to copy the verbiage for your postings-

Those who oppose open access to original birth certificates for adoptees claim that birthparents will be harmed and that they were promised anonymity. To counter this, Oregon collected the names of 500 birthmothers who signed a petition favoring access and then published the list as a full page ad in a Seattle newspaper. Many attribute this long list of names in changing public opinion in Oregon. In the wake of a media firestorm created by Oprah's reunion with her sister, American Adoption Congress has an on-line petition for birthparents to sign in support of access. Here is the link, and please add your name only one time.

http://www.viethconsulting.com/members/form.php?orgcode=AMAC&fid=785425

A New Generation

A conversation with a counsellor friend of mine yesterday has my inner-wheels turning. She was remarking that in recent interactions on adoption with 5 young (~17-22) adoptees, she observed a markedly different "comfort level" than that she has seen in those of my generation (40's).

The chats my friend was having with the adoptees weren't counselling sessions, so their scope was narrow. But the little corridor she was able to experience could be compared like this; as a teen, if asked about my sensibility on being an adoptee, I may have (and did) said something like "I'm glad she gave me up!" The vibe that went with the proclamation was anger, denial, and protectiveness of my adoptive parents and my membership in their family. Today, when these young adoptees were asked about their "adoptedness," they exuded calm as they expressed- "It's what she needed to do. I'm ok with it."

My counsellor friend's speculation is that that the difference is related to the absence of stigma in adoption today. We're both left wondering what this generation's experience will be 10, 20 years from now, if or when they become "searchers," and what reunion experience might be like for them. "Reality" takes such shifts from one generation to the next. I'm left wondering to what extent I, or my generation, can be helpful to the next in their quests for their truths.

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.