April 7th and Daffodils

Today, April 7th, marks one year since we lost my mom, Susan Perry. She was diagnosed with Stage IV melanoma in July of 2013, and a few days later she wrote "Facing a Life-Threatening Illness and Thinking About Adoption" (http://nanadays.blogspot.com/2013/07/facing-life-threatening-illness-and.html -- or click on the post from the menu on the right). I read it and hear her voice. I read it and remember how important this issue is. I hope you find time to read it again today.

The daffodil bulbs that my dad and my four year-old-son Joseph planted on a cold, rainy day in October bloomed for the first time this morning, a little late because of the long winter, but beautiful nonetheless. It seemed like a special, quiet message from my mom as I walked past them this morning. Keep going. Have faith. The spring will come.

For all those working so tirelessly for peace and justice for adoptees -- a cause so close to my mom's heart -- I would say the same. You are like my dad and Joseph working in the cold and the rain, perhaps with a long winter of waiting ahead, but your work will be worth it. The result will be beautiful. Keep planting. Keep waiting. Don't lose the faith. Change -- beautiful change -- is coming. I just know it.

Please Do What's Right: PA HB 162

Another post from Jenn, Susan's daughter. Susan passed away on April 7th, 2014.

The vote is Tuesday. Two days from now, Pennsylvania's Senate Committee on Aging and Youth will consider PA HB 162, which would allow adult adoptees access to their original birth certificates. I think my mom's voice, below, eloquently states the case for why this is a loving and just bill. If they vote no, it might be another 10 years before similar legislation even has a chance. Please, please consider calling the members of the Senate Committee tomorrow, especially if you live in Pennsylvania and are an adoptee, adoptive parent, or birth/original mother. I have spoken with SO many of you from this triad who understand the urgency of this bill, but I am not sure that yours are the voices the legislators are hearing. They are hearing from lobbyists for the adoption industry and those with a political agenda. For me, it comes down to this:

1) Adoptees are fully human and therefore deserving of all the rights ever other human being enjoys in this country.

2) Knowing who you are, and having access to your original birth certificate, is a right. Most people don't ever have to think about this.

3) No other group of people is denied its rights with the justification, "Just feel lucky you are alive" (i.e. that you were not an abortion). We are all lucky to be alive. And study after study after study has shown that open access laws either DO NOT impact abortion rates or LOWER them. And I find the PA ACLU's argument that denying adoptees access to their original birth certificates is part of "a woman's reproductive freedom" ridiculous, and I hope any thinking adult would as well (as much as I respect the ACLU on other issues). Once again, adoptees are REAL people, and should have the same rights as everyone else under the law.

4) This is thus a civil rights issue -- an issue of giving everyone equal treatment under the law. To repeat myself, it is loving, and it is just. Please call! (phone numbers of Senate Committee Members after my mom's post)


Facing a Life-Threatening Illness and Thinking About Adoption (originally posted by my mom in July, 2013, one week after her Stage IV melanoma diagnosis)

This past week has been the most difficult one I have ever endured.  I  had just returned from Spain, where I felt great and walked at least five miles every day.  I noticed a little bump on my thigh and had my friend, a surgeon, take a look at it.  He thought it was vascular, but scheduled an ultrasound just to be sure.  The results were concerning, so the next day I went in for a PET scan.  That day I got the devastating news that the melanoma that I had 16 years ago has returned and metastasized.

It is surreal to go from feeling just fine one day to being told that you have stage 4 melanoma the next.  I vacillate from feeling as if I am an actor in a play to feeling sick at my stomach as I contemplate what I am facing.  On the bright side, I have the best husband, daughters and extended family in the world, and I have been surrounded by caring and love every minute of every day.  My best friend can keep me laughing no matter what the circumstance.

Part of my beautiful support team -- granddaughter Grace and daughter Jenn in Spain


My physician daughter was able to schedule an appointment for me with one of the best melanoma doctors in the world within the week.  There is hope, and I am going to try to hold onto it with all my might.  As she explained to me, we don't talk of curing melanoma at this stage, but in ongoing clinical trials at Penn, they are seeing partial and complete remissions in a number of patients through a combination of standard and immunology therapy.  I qualify for the trial, and after several more procedures this week and next, will be getting started.

I welcome prayers from those who pray, positive energy from those who meditate, and good wishes from one and all.  I am working hard on mindfulness exercises, as I can see already that a major challenge in all of this will be letting go, living in the moment, and controlling the racing of my mind.

As my thoughts and emotions have careened all over the place this past week, I have been thinking about why I have been so dedicated to adoption reform and adoptee rights over these past 16 years.  I was blessed with loving adoptive parents, and I found myself feeling so very close to them this past week, as I sat on a bench looking out over a beautiful cove where I had grown up sailing and water-skiing with my parents and brother.

But like many adopted people, I feel connections to other people as well.  Neither I, nor any adoptee, should ever be forced into an either-or kind of thinking, in which one set of parents is recognized and validated, and one set is not.  Having experienced the paradoxes and willful mistruths of the adoption system, I myself have no tolerance for half truths and the masking of deep truths.

Throughout my life, I have learned that the road to peace is never through falsehood, and I think that is the reason I have always felt so devoted to truth, fairness and social justice.

It is truly misguided and so very wrong for the state to attempt to block two grown adults from knowing the truth about each other's identity -- especially when those adults share such a deep, primal connection.  We cannot and should not ever block a human being's path to truth, peace, forgiveness and love.

I was told through the agency that placed me that my original mother did not want any contact with me.    With help from several enlightened souls, I found her on my own and sent her a sensitive and compassionate certified letter, asking her also for medical history.  As a human being facing a medical crisis 16 years ago, I felt that I was worthy enough to at least ask for information.  I received it, and eventually my original mother told me over the telephone that she had always loved me "in her heart."  Not every adopted person will seek out her original parents or get even that far in the journey.  Some will get further.

But how dare the state block the possibility for that love to be expressed?  How dare they?  Let people -- adults with minds and souls of their own -- find their own way.  Facing a critical illness at the moment, I can tell you with certainty that there is nothing that is more important than love.  Nothing.  Please, let's let the light, the truth and the love overcome the misguided fears and the ideology.

There is no difficulty that enough love will not conquer,
no disease that enough love will not heal;
no door that enough love will not open;
no gulf that enough love will not bridge;
no wall that enough love will not throw down;
no sin that enough love will not redeem ....
It makes no difference how deeply seated
may be the trouble; how hopeless the outlook;
how muddled the tangle; how great the mistake.
A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all.
If only you could love enough you would be the happiest
and most powerful being in the world.

Emmet Fox

SENATE COMMITTEE ON AGING & YOUTH

(Please, if you can, call them and urge them to vote yes on HB 162, which would allow adult adoptees access to their original birth certificates. Calls are probably more effective at this point. If you prefer to email, the email addresses are in the previous blog post)

CHAIR:

Senator Randy Vulakovich
Senate Box 203040
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3040
(717) 787-6538
FAX: (717) 787-8625

1407 Mt. Royal Blvd.
Glenshaw, PA 15116
(412) 487-6600
FAX: (412) 487-6607

VICE CHAIR:

Senator Scott Wagner
Senate Box 203028
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3028
Room: Room 460 Main Capitol
(717) 787-3817
FAX: (717) 783-1900

218 North George Street
York, PA 17401
(717) 846-2828
FAX: (717) 852-8478

MINORITY CHAIR:

Senator Sean Wiley
Senate Box 203049
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3049
(717) 787-8927
FAX: (717) 772-1588

1314 Griswold Plaza, S. 100
Erie, PA 16501
(814) 453-2515
FAX: (814) 871-4640

MAJORITY MEMBERS (Republican)

Senator Joseph Scarnati III   (Ex-Officio)
Senate Box 203025
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3025
(717) 787-7084
FAX: (717) 772-2755

410 Main Street
Brockway, PA 15824
(814) 265-2030
FAX: (814) 265-2040

Senator David Argall
Senate Box 203029
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3029
(717) 787-2637
FAX: (717) 783-8657

One West Centre Street
P.O. Box 150
Mahanoy City, PA 17948
(570) 773-0891
FAX: (570) 773-1675

Senator Lisa Baker
Senate Box 203020
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3020
(717) 787-7428
FAX: (717) 787-9242

2512 Route 6
Hawley, PA 18428
(570) 226-5960
FAX: (570) 226-5964

Senator Bob Mensch
Senate Box 203024
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3024
(717) 787-3110
FAX: (717) 787-8004

Senator Bob Mensch
404 Main Street, Suite A
Pennsburg, PA 18073
(215) 541-2388
FAX: (215) 541-2387

Senator Elder Vogel Jr.
Senate Box 203047
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3047
(717) 787-3076
FAX: (717) 772-2756

488 Adams Street
Rochester, PA 15074
(724) 774-0444
FAX: (724) 773-7384

MINORITY MEMBERS (Democrats)

Senator Judith Schwank
Senate Box 203011
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3011
(717) 787-8925
FAX: (717) 772-0578

210 George Street, S. 201
Reading, PA 19605
(610) 929-2151
FAX: (610) 929-2576

Senator Michael Stack
Senate Box 203005
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3005
(717) 787-9608
FAX: (717) 772-2162

12361 Academy Road
Philadelphia, PA 19154-1927
(215) 281-2539
FAX: (215) 281-2798

Senator John Yudichak
Senate Box 203014
Harrisburg, PA 17120-3014
(717) 787-7105
FAX: (717) 783-4141

1701 Wyoming Ave.
Exeter, PA 18643
(570) 883-4690
FAX: (570) 883-4694

Joseph, My Mom, and Unanswered Questions

Joseph in May. He has grown up so much since September.

This is another post by Jenn, Susan's daughter. Susan passed away on April 7th after an 8-month battle with melanoma. 


 This Thursday was my son Joseph's last day of school until next year, and we celebrated by bringing in fruit for the class and letting his teachers know how thankful we are. When I picked him up he was sitting happily with his friends, laughing and eating his snack, and though he was happy to see me, he wasn't in any hurry to leave.

What a difference since September, when I first brought Joseph to Kindercare, which is right across the street from where I teach in Philadelphia. He was two then and, because of my mom, had never before had to go to daycare or school. Like my girls, Joseph loved "Nana Days," when my mom brought him to the Discovery Museum or the playground and generally showered him with love. This September, a mere month after my mom's diagnosis with Stage IV melanoma, Joseph started school. He sobbed and clung to my leg when I dropped him off, and when I picked him up afterwards, nearly eight hours later, he was so overcome with emotion that he fell off his chair onto the floor as soon as he saw me and again broke into sobs. "Mommy," he said, and the look on his face was clear: "I didn't know if you were coming back."

Joseph on the first day of school, looking a little nervous.

Of course I was coming back. And as Joseph saw that this was true, day after day, week after week, and as he made friends and played on the playground and grew to love his teachers in the two-year-old classroom (Ms. Wanda, Ms. Stefanie, Ms. Jessica, Ms. Angie), he began to relax and enjoy himself. Eventually he gave me a hug and a kiss goodbye in the morning and ran off to play with his friends.

Joseph at 3 months, when my mom first started caring for him.

None of this is to say that no longer having my mom care for Joseph was not a huge loss, or that her two years of caring for him were not extremely important in his life. I plan to tell Joseph stories about his time with my mom for the rest of his life so that, if he doesn't remember himself, he will at least know. He will know how much he was loved, and what sacrifices were made for him. And another thing: none of this is to say that had I not come back, for whatever reason, that Joseph wouldn't have been truly traumatized, regardless of how wonderful his teachers were. And he would have been especially traumatized had all reasons for me not coming back been blocked from him forever. Had all information about me been blocked from him forever. I've been thinking about this lately as I think about the mysteries surrounding my mom's early life because of her adoption. She was three months old when my grandparents took her home. Three months! Who held her during those days and weeks before her new life? Who first saw her smile? Was she loved, spoken to, rocked back to sleep when she cried?

This winter, my mom received a letter from the Children's Home Society of New Jersey, the adoption agency that placed her, in response to a letter she had sent them asking for more information about her life, since she had been reunited with her sisters and her original mother had recently passed away.  What possible reason was left for any secrecy? The agency did send my mom more information about her father, and an older son that he had, but wrote that they could tell her nothing about who cared for her for the first three months of her life. "We could have you speak with a current foster family if you are curious as to what that experience is like," they wrote. That made us laugh.

My mom and dad also received another letter from
the Children's Home Society of New Jersey this

My mom, me, and Joseph in Parque Retiro, Madrid, in July 2013.

winter, one in response to their letter urging the agency to support S873/A1259, or the Adoptees Birthright Bill (signed into law in NJ in May) which will allow adult adoptees access to their original birth certificates, or OBCs. The American Academy of Pediatrics and the Child Welfare League of America, among many, many other groups and institutions, support legislation such as this. Still: "We will take no position on the bill," the agency wrote to my parents.

I must admit that this is as much a mystery to me as the first three months of my mother's life. Why would an institution whose sole goal is to protect children not speak out on behalf of those thousands of children it placed for adoption who had their rights stripped from them? Donna Pressma, President and CEO of the Children's Home Society of Trenton since 1986 even chairs, according to her biography, a committee for the Child Welfare League of America (this one on children with HIV).

There are some other mysteries for me as well, mysteries I was reminded of as I searched the agency's website for clues to my mom's history, to my history. For instance: Why must an adoptee pay anything in order to receive information about his or her own family history? I knew that my mom paid for the piece of paper with minimal information about her original family (the one we laughed about for its inaccuracies with my mom's sisters this fall) back in 2002, but the prices listed here reminded me how much. $75 for basic information, $200 for a complete background, and $500 for a search, meaning that the agency would attempt to contact an original family member for you. $100 for each additional search (a sibling, a father). $50/hr for a pre-search counseling session. If I remember correctly, for my mom this consisted of someone asking her, "Why do you want to know?" (Eventually, my mother would pay several thousand dollars to an outside source to find her mother on her own so that she could deliver a letter to her "in her own voice," something I believe that is important for all adoptees to be able to do).

Also: why did my mom's original mother ever have to pay anything to the adoption agency? This winter my mom's sister Jo gave us a letter her mother had kept all these years about just this. Apparently she had fallen behind on payments but finally caught up, and a letter was sent to acknowledge this.  My mother's parents also paid a lot of money to finalize her adoption. I know diapers and formula are expensive, but ... well, it just doesn't add up.

Joseph at 2 months. So much had already happened in his life. Where and with whom was my mom at this age?

Children's Home Society of New Jersey, if you are reading, let me say that it seems, from your website, that you do some wonderful work for children. You wrote to my mom that you read her letters with "great compassion," and indeed much of your work does seem to be infused with this compassion. Yet how can compassion for adopted children stop once they become adults and begin advocating for their rights? Where is the compassion in charging them $500 simply to connect them to the parent or parents that you had a part in separating them from? And why can't we know where my mom was for the first three months of her life? Do those records not exist?

Faced with the losses tied up in sealed-records adoption, one can become overwhelmed. Faced with any loss, actually, one can become overwhelmed. I know that's how I was feeling last September when I picked up Joseph, sobbing, from the floor after his first day of school. Back in the car, once he was safely buckled, I let the feelings sink in. What I had already lost with my mom's diagnosis. What I might lose. Mom.

It was then, when I was feeling most lost, that the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, but something made me pick it up. Joseph, unusually, sat quiet in the back.

"Hello, this is Jenn," I said.

"Jenn? Jenn Gentlesk?" spoke a sweet, yet inquisitive, and perhaps slightly nervous voice.

"Yes."

"I received your letter today, your letter you sent by certified mail, the one about your mom, Susan Perry ... I'm ... her sister." Carol then explained that my mom had another, younger sister (Jo), and that they both had been frantically searching for my mom for two weeks, ever since Jo had accidentally found a birth record in her mother's apartment.

I can't speak for my mom, but I know that at this moment in my life, when I was feeling a bit as though God had dropped me off at daycare and was never coming back, to hear "We were frantically searching for you," and then to be found, was nothing less than miraculous. I am grateful, and humbled, to have been touched by this miracle. It has sustained me through this incredibly difficult year. And I'm hoping that, like Joseph at his school, each day going forward will be a little easier for me. That each day I'll find some joy.

Yet is shouldn't take a miracle (or thousands of dollars) for people who are related to each other by blood to find each other. There are enough mysteries and tragedies in life that we can't do anything about and need true miracles for. As I reflect on this year -- the beautiful reunion with my mom's sisters, the devastating loss of my mom -- I know there are some questions that I'll never be able to answer. But others, well, I'm going to keep searching until I find what I'm looking for ... I'm going to search for answers for my mom.

My mom and Joseph in Spain last summer. She would hate how she looked in this picture (she had just woken up on our first day in the country, and was jet-lagged from our day of travel), but I love how her hand is on Joseph's leg, and how happy they look just sitting together.

Calling on Gov. Christie to do the right thing

I am writing this post from the home of my mom, Susan Perry, whose blog this is. She has asked me if I could keep it going, with a post now and then, since all of her energy is focused on being with those she loves and those who love her. Love is what is carrying us all through. 

My mom has been fighting for adoptees finally to be treated with justice and humanity for the last 13 years of her life. That fight continues. Tomorrow, the NJ Senate and Assembly vote on the Adoptees' Birthright BIll, and then it will go on to Governor Chris Christie, who vetoed it last time but now has a chance to do the right thing. Below is the letter I sent to the Philadelphia Inquirer in response to their February 23rd article on this bill. 

My mom skiing with my two girls, Grace and Genevieve, last year. 

Letter to the Editor:
I am the daughter of Susan Perry, who was profiled in Sunday’s front-page article 'Bills in Pa., N.J. would open adoption records.' I would like to make a few important clarifications. The first sentence reads, “Not knowing the identity of her real mother was always a painful, unresolved issue, but when Susan Perry was diagnosed with melanoma, finding out became a medical necessity.” I know my mom objects to the term “real mother.” Most involved in this movement use the terms "original mother" and "adoptive mother." My grandmother (my mom's adoptive mother) was very much her real mother, as the brother she grew up with is also her real brother. They are also very real to, and loved by, me. That said, the biological sisters she found this September are also real to her, and to me (and I love them too). Secondly, not knowing the identity of her original mother was not always a cause for pain. My mom is an accidental activist. It was only when she was pushed by my sister, a doctor, to search for her roots 13 years ago and then subsequently treated like a second-class-citizen (having to pay $600 to an “intermediary” just to ask if her mother would like contact and to have access to extremely limited, if not completely erroneous, medical information), that she felt this pain (and outrage). Finally, though being diagnosed with melanoma was what prompted us to search for her original family, the “medical necessity” for all adopted people is really before they are diagnosed with catastrophic diseases, so that they can take preventive measures. My mom found out from her sisters that an uncle had melanoma (this was NOT on the medical form she paid $600 for). Had her doctors had this information 16 years ago, would they have misdiagnosed the melanoma on her toe for two years, allowing it to develop into Stage 2 cancer (now Stage 4)? We’ll never know.

The bills pending in Pennsylvania and New Jersey are about rights, not reunions. My mom now has all the information she needs (no thanks to current law), but she is fighting for others, even as she fights for her own life. I am proud of her, and of all those involved in fighting for this right, just law. 

Love Will See You Through

                       Carol and her dear husband Jim, who passed away in 2012.  I

                       discovered Carol's identity through Jim's obituary, which I found

                       when I surveyed public records to see if my original mother had

                       passed away.  Life indeed works in mysterious ways.

My journey with my two sisters, discovered in September through a rather miraculous set of circumstances (you can read more about that story here), continues to amaze me.  Yesterday, my husband Ty and I visited my older sister Carol at her home in Pennsylvania.  My other sister Jo, and her husband Ray, drove two and a half hours from Red Bank, New Jersey to join us for lunch and an afternoon visit.

Carol prepared a lovely lunch -- split pea soup and homemade chicken salad, as well as an assortment of other salads and dessert.  I was so touched by all her efforts, and by the fact that Jo and her husband went so out of their way to spend time with us.  We spent the afternoon talking, sharing family stories, and playing a charade-like game called Catch a Phrase.  We have spent four whole days together now, with countless messages and e-mails flowing back and forth in between visits.  It seems that we have known each other so much longer.  Carol and Jo feel like such a part of our family now, to both me and Ty, and once again, I wonder why I am so blessed to have found these two dear souls.

As I continue to battle metastatic melanoma, I try to focus more on my blessings and my day-to-day life than my prognosis.  Meeting and getting to know Carol and Jo has certainly been a gift, one that has brought me so much love, peace and closure.  Carol unfortunately knows first hand the challenge of fighting a life-threatening disease, as she lost her dear husband Jim to brain cancer in 2012.  She has a knack for saying all the right things to me, and one comment in particular stays with me:  "Susan," she said, "Love will see you through."

She is so right!  We find out at times like this that love is all that matters, and I have been fortunate to find it in many places.  I had adoptive parents, and I have an adoptive brother, all who have loved me with all their hearts.  My husband is my best friend and the love of my life.  As soon as I became sick from my treatments, he arranged to work from home, and he is always here with and for me.

         Two of the loves of my life -- my youngest grandchild Joseph and my husband Ty

We are blessed with two daughters, their husbands who we love like sons, and six beautiful grandchildren ranging in age from three to nine.  One of my daughters is a doctor, so she is able to stay on top of my treatments and provide extra medical support.  My other daughter is a teacher at Masterman High School in Philadelphia.  One or the other always accompanies me and Ty to treatments.  Both live nearby and check in daily, with frequent visits from the grandkids, who thankfully force us to live in the moment, whether we want to or not!

                                 Joseph with his cousin Ty -- they are best buddies!

Grandchildren and cousins -- Genevieve and Eddie.  Can you tell how much they love each other?

 The older grandchildren, Emma and Grace.  How lucky are we, and how lucky are they?

I have one dear friend who gives me massages twice a week, another who comes to the house to cut my hair.  My daughter very ably administered my last hair color treatment!  Another long-time friend crafted me an exquisite quilt.  Other friends get me out to the movies, for short walks, and for discussions about books. (I love to read!)

I don't want to mislead you here.  I am not at all happy that I have stage 4 melanoma.  I would like very much to live for another 20 years, as I love my life and all the people in it.  But I also know that I have been blessed in many ways and that I am surrounded by a love that sustains me day by day.  And as Carol so wisely said, no matter what happens, that love will see me through.

"If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is thank you, that would suffice." 

 Meister Eckhart

Surrounded by Love -- No More Secrets

          No more secrets -- my beautiful sisters Carol Dowlen (left) and Jo Pierson (right)


I returned home several weeks ago from a long and exhausting day at the hospital where I am being treated for metastatic melanoma to find a large package on my front step.  My husband Ty brought it inside and opened it.  Inside was a soft, warm throw from one of my recently-found sisters, Carol, along with homemade Christmas cookies for my grandchildren.  "Thinking about you with love," the note said.  "Thought you could use this throw as you rest."

A few days later, after I got a CAT scan showing that my pancreas was inflamed and that we would have to suspend treatment for a while, my other sister Jo, who I first met in late September, sent me a slide show she had assembled from pictures on my daughters', her family's, and my own Facebook pages.  Entitled "Surrounded by Love," it featured uplifting music and pictures of our families, my grandchildren, and a few other scenes that stir my soul, like the waves rolling in, one after the other, at the beach.  (To see Jo's creative talent, click here.)

Both Carol and Jo have surrounded me with love since we found each other in September, and ours is a reunion story that seems quite miraculous to us all.  (You can read more about that unfolding of events here.)  But as my daughter Jenn says, "It shouldn't take a miracle to find people to whom you are related by blood."  In New Jersey, thanks to Gov. Chris Christie's veto of adoption reform legislation in 2011, the birth certificates of adopted adults remain firmly sealed, and adopted people attempting to unearth their own histories must continue to circumvent the law.

I'll point out here what I've explained in other posts -- that I first contacted my original mother over ten years ago, and while she did share some information, she had no desire to meet.  When I found my sisters in the fall, we did not tell my original mother about our reunion, as she was elderly and in frail health, and we had no desire to hurt or upset her.  But as Carol said to me during one of our early phone calls, "I am 68 years old -- what is the point of all this secrecy?"  In what other area of life, except for adoption, are adults treated like perpetual children, incapable of handling the most personal details of their lives with competency and sensitivity?

When I first started writing about my sisters, I used pseudonyms for them, out of respect for my original mother's desire for privacy.  But my original mother passed away at the end of October, and there is no one left to hurt.  My sisters' love for me has been such a gift during this emotionally and physically trying time for me, and I believe very strongly that our meeting has an unexplainable spiritual dimension.

As Carol wrote to me last week, "Susan, you have brought such joy to my life in this short time.  I do not mind at all your using my real name on your blog.  I am so glad everything is out in the open now -- no more secrets."

Carol Dowlen and Jo Pierson, I am so proud to call you my sisters.  Your presence in my life does not replace the love I feel and have felt for my adoptive family, but it adds to that love in such a profound way, and it has given me such a lift as I battle this cursed disease.

And Gov. Christie, it is not often in life or in politics that you have a second chance to do the right thing and be on the right side of history.  You in all likelihood will have that chance should adoptee rights legislation be approved in the Assembly, just as it was during the last legislative cycle.  As I'm sure you know, it has already passed overwhelmingly in the Senate.  I hope and pray that you will come to understand this issue for what it is -- the human right for those affected by adoption to navigate their own personal histories without government obstruction and interference.

My o-mother passes on, and my sisters lift me up

My original mother passed away earlier this week at the age of 90.  Several weeks ago, she suffered what appeared to be a minor stroke, but all of her organs seemed to break down rapidly, and my sisters tell me that she passed peacefully and rather quickly in the hospital, saying, "I just want to go to sleep."

I was not with my sisters because my o-mother never became comfortable with the idea of publicly acknowledging my existence.  As I said to my sisters Janet* and Eileen,* she always remained kind of a ghost for me, someone I could never really get to know.  The sisters tell me that she was emotionally closed her entire life through and kept many details of her life private, even from them.  For example, my older sister Janet has no idea who her father is -- her mother told her that it was none of her business, and that she didn't need to know.

I don't know who my father is either -- my o-mother told me in a phone conversation ten years ago, "I can't tell you anything about your father.  He was a married man."  Whether she still thought she was protecting people (my o-father has long been deceased), or just protecting herself, I have no idea.  As Janet told me in our first phone conversation, "Our mother was always looking for love in all the wrong places."

My sisters had a long and rocky relationship with their mother, but she was their mother, and they remained loyal and loving caregivers for her until the end.  Following her stroke, Janet came to stay with her Mondays through Fridays, and Eileen took her to her home during the week-ends.  Both sisters and other extended family were with my o-mother when she passed.  And rather than send me an e-mail, Janet picked up the phone and called me when she died.

I admire my sisters so much for caring for their mother, even though she could be difficult and often fell short in caring for them.  They saw her limitations clearly, but they are loving souls who also see that life is what it is, not always what we would like it to be.   They recognized that their mother had some mental difficulties, and still kept sharing their love and caring, even when it was not reciprocated.  Sometimes in life, the strong must step up to help care for the weak.

                          My two granddaughters -- the sister bond can be so very strong!

I am so blessed to call these two women my sisters.  They express so much concern for me even amidst all the emotional turmoil they are now experiencing.  For example, following my o-mother's passing, Janet sent me this message late at night:

"Dear Susan,
I am lying here in bed hoping Mom has finally found peace and happiness she never found in life.  There is so much about Mom that she would never share and now we will never know.  The thing Eileen and I are most upset about is that she didn't let us make the decision to contact you ten years ago.  There was just so much that we could have shared with each other and our families.  I can't begin to thank Jenn (my daughter) enough for sending that letter (introducing herself, her children and me, and asking if Janet would be open to contact).  It was the beginning of something so special I still can't find the words.  You have a place in our hearts forever.  Please take good care of yourself and I will keep in touch.
Love,
Janet"

I wish every adoption attorney, agency official, legislator and religious group that opposes adoptee rights would read this post and then tell me to my face why they think it is their right to deny me my own original birth certificate and make it difficult for me to ascertain the basic truths about my own life. How can they not see how discriminatory it is to treat an entire minority group differently by law than we treat everyone else -- especially now that we have hard data to show that adoptee access bills without restrictions work best for all concerned parties?  This is an intensely private subject that should interest only those people who are directly involved.  Adults must be trusted to handle their own affairs competently, just as they are in every other area of life.

If the naysayers had had their way, and had I not taken active steps to circumvent the archaic and completely discriminatory adoption laws now in place, I never would have experienced Janet's or Eileen's love.  In a short and poignant message, Eileen sent me this note after her mother's death:

"Thank you so much for your love and kindness.  Not knowing you was definitely our mother's greatest loss.  Praying for great results on Friday (I had a CAT scan this morning) -- love you.
Eileen"

Could anyone ask for more supportive and loving sisters?  What a gift they are to me, especially now, as I am facing a challenging medical situation.  They truly lift me up, and I am blessed.


*I am using pseudonyms in this post, as it contains some private communications and information that I prefer not to air publicly.

Celebrating some positive signs in the world of adoption reform

There have been several articles and events to celebrate in the world of adoption reform these past few weeks.  On April 24, the Atlantic published a story by Emily Matchar entitled: "Adoptees Shouldn't Have to Use Facebook to Find Their Birth Parents."  It's rare to find a mainstream article that champions the rights of adopted people like this one does.  It's brief but compelling, and features promising quotes like these:

From Claudia Corrigan D'Arcy:  "Imagine a world where adult adoptees could access their birth records like EVERY other American and know the name they were given," she writes. "Then they wouldn't have to post pictures of themselves on Facebook holding signs with personal information all over. Then they wouldn't have to beg for strangers for shares in order to find out who they look like and if cancer runs in their family."

From the Adoptee Rights Coalition:  "Adult adoptees in most of the advanced, industrialized nations of the world have unrestricted access to their original birth records as a matter of right.  In contrast, adult adoptees in all but six states in the U.S. are forbidden unrestricted access to their own original birth certificates, due to archaic laws that are a legacy of a culture of shame that stigmatized infertility, out-of-wedlock birth and adoption."

From the US Administration for Children and Families, part of the Department of Health and Human Services:  "Placing a child for adoption can cause a sense of loss that is all-encompassing. Some birth parents experience longstanding grief, that is, grief that lasts a very long time and may continue to actually interfere with a birth parent's life many years later."

Matchar's story to date has generated 235 comments, most of them supportive of the adoptee rights movement.  The Atlantic story was a nice surprise.  So was the recent MSNBC coverage of Kathryn Joyce's new book, The Child Catchers; adoption corruption in Ethiopia; the Indian Child Welfare Act and why it is needed; and the urgent need for more oversight and regulation of the adoption industry.

I didn't realize that Melissa Harris-Perry would be featuring Kathryn Joyce on her MSNBC show April 28, along with Tarikuwa Lemma, a young Ethiopian woman whose family thought that at age 13, she was going to the United States for an educational exchange program, when in reality an unscrupulous agency had arranged for her to be adopted.  Other participants on the panel included Karen Moline, an adoptive mother and Board member of Parents for Ethical Adoption Reform; Jacqueline Pata, executive director of the National Congress of American Indians; and William Jelani Cobb, a University of Connecticut historian.

Ironically, I had just finished reading Joyce's book a few days before when I happened to tune in to the Melissa Harris-Perry show.  I nearly jumped off the couch and started to cheer when I saw one professional after another getting to air -- in prime time -- some of the profound problems with the business model that drives the adoption industry.  This is a subject that mainstream media usually avoids, partly because adoption agencies and their lobbies have driven the adoption narrative for so long.

Joyce makes it clear in her book and in person that many of the people motivated to adopt have the best intentions.  They may not, however, be aware how rife with abuse transnational adoption has been, and in some countries, continues to be.  I'll provide a link to the show at the bottom of this post.  Here are some of the most important points made by panel participants:

From Kathryn Joyce: "There is so much emphasis on and enthusiasm for adoption in the United States. When adoption agencies prey on families' desire to 'help' children they believe to be in need, there have been lies and misinformation seeded in from the very beginning."

Joyce explains that adoption agencies started to turn overseas when domestic adoption rates started to plummet.  In the US, there are many more couples wishing to adopt than there are infants available for adoption.  It costs an average of $30,000 to adopt a child from abroad, says Joyce, and there is little oversight as to where that money is going.  When countries tighten regulations, adoption agencies go out of business, so there are financial incentives for operating in locations with little oversight.

From Tarikuwa Lemma:  "I was angry and grieving when I came to understand what adoption was because I already had a family at home.  The adoption agency had given my adoptive parents false information.  They thought they were saving me from a horrible life in Africa."

From Karen Moline: "Staggering sums of money are paid to these countries, and there is no transparency."  Adoption is "an emotional process coupled with a business model," and many people just can't believe that entities who insist they have the best interests of children at heart would be dishonest or manipulative,  "They can't believe it, so they won't believe it."

Of course some evangelicals have reacted to Joyce's recently-published book defensively, immediately writing the author off as a far-left extremist, but others have had a more measured approach and have opened up discussions for further dialogue and learning.  For example, Dana, whose family includes an adopted son from China, recently posted an article on her blog entitled "Orphan Fever: Are Christians Naive?"

In it, she refers to a summary of Joyce's book that had been published in Mother Jones, that as she says, "paints a pretty unflattering picture of both evangelical Christians and the international adoption business.  Since I'm an evangelical Christian and an adoptive parent, I decided to read it," she continues, "and I encourage you to take a deep breath and read it too."

Dana cautions her readers to "resist the urge to be defensive," and instead read the article with an open mind.  "Why not give our critics a respectful hearing?" she writes.  "Why not see if there's anything to be learned?"  Like Dana, I try to enter discussions about adoption in a respectful way.  It is an emotional subject, and one that easily leads to hurt feelings and misunderstandings.  The correct questions, in my view, are "Where can we find common ground?  What can we do together to make adoption better?"  In her post, Dana asks, "How can we, as Christians, work to better serve orphans and widows and needy families worldwide?"

Encouraging us all to look at both sides,  Dana refers her readers to an article written by an adoptive dad:  "Is the Left Launching an Attack on Evangelical Adoption?"  While I thought the writer was overreacting to the points made in Joyce's book, I can see why, as an adoptive parent who dearly loves his children, he might feel defensive.  I read through the comments to his article and felt discouraged as they deteriorated in many cases to a kind of left versus right culture war.

But I had the opportunity to make several comments of my own, and who knows who might read or understand them?  At one point I said this:  " I am happy to say that I loved my adoptive parents, and they loved me, but I do not love the system of adoption that continues to treat me by law like a perpetual child incapable of managing my own affairs. My original family is a part of me, and wanting to know my own history is in no way related to the love I have for my parents (now deceased). Incidentally, when I was being treated for a life-threatening illness, I was turned down for a medical trial because I had no access to family health history. Evangelicals should be leading the way to fight for adult adoptee access bills. Instead, they too often stand in the way."

Later, I make this point: "As adoptees, our perspectives are constantly being drowned out by the prevailing narrative that 'adoption is wonderful.' Was I grateful for my parents, who I loved very much? Of course. But I am not grateful for the system of adoption, which unnecessarily prevents many adoptees from knowing even the most basic facts about their own lives. And when we become educated in the realities of adoption, we learn that sealed records are not necessary -- in fact they have been extremely hurtful to countless original mothers and adopted people -- but some adoptive parents, through fear, I'm guessing, continue to advocate for them. Adult adoptee access to original birth certificates is a no-brainer, were we just to pay attention to established data. But adoption mythology, fear, and the agenda of some adoption agencies continue to get in the way."

I am not deluded enough to think I am making a big difference here, but I welcome the dialogue, and I appreciate the efforts that Dana and many other adoptive parents are making to listen to the divergent voices, increase understanding, and make adoption better for their children.

Working to improve adoption practice is exhausting work, and one reason for that, I think, is that people want to hold on to the notion that adoption is a win-win for everyone, an idea that the adoption business happily promotes.  And the adoption business, through several influential lobbies, drives adoption legislation from the federal level right on down through the states.

 Adoption -- when it is done ethically, with honesty and transparency, can be a very good thing.  But in my view, it should be a last resort, not a first response.  For many, there are profound losses involved, and that is a reality that many people would rather not acknowledge.

Sometimes I get tired of all the rancor surrounding adoption dialogue, and I have to drop out of the conversation for a while to rejuvenate myself and focus on all that is good in my life: my husband and daughters, my six precious grandchildren, my dear friends, my garden.  Amanda over at Declassified Adoptee spoke to this need recently in a post entitled "20 Quick Tips to Better Advocate for Yourself and Others."

Amanda reminds activists for social justice how important it is to take breaks and to hold onto hope, even when legislative bills that would restore equal rights repeatedly get thwarted and defeated.  "You never know how the seeds you have planted with your message will grow," she writes.

The fact that the adoption media coverage these past few weeks has stimulated some important conversation gives me hope.  So does the fact that the Catholic Conference in Ohio and the Right to Life chapter there have recently testified in favor of an adoptee rights bill.  Maybe, just maybe, some of those seeds that so many good people have been planting for so many years are finally starting to take root.


You might also like:

Adoptees Shouldn't Have to Use Facebook to Find Their Birth Parents

Adopted against her will: One woman shares her story

Orphan Fever: Are Christians Naive?

I was a people pleaser -- now I'm an adoptee rights activist

Recently, I participated in a long on-line conversation with other adopted adults about the challenges of following our own hearts and truths without offending the sensibilities of other family members.  Many adopted people are truly concerned about hurting the feelings of their adoptive parents, whom they love, and then, as they pursue their biological family connections, they become concerned all over again about possibly upsetting the lives of original family.

This scenario is very familiar to me, and I know I'm not alone.  I delayed a search for years because I just knew, even without words, that my adoptive mother would consider it threatening, and that it would compromise her view of herself as my only mother.  Later, when I found and reached out to my original mother, I proceeded carefully and with compassion, because once again, I knew that my birth was a sensitive subject, and that it must have been emotional and painful for her.

When my original mother returned a medical questionnaire that I had sent to her by certified mail, she informed me that she had never told anyone else about me, except for her own mother, and that her other daughter, five years older than I, does not know that I exist.  Through public records, I do know who this other daughter is and where she lives, but so far, I have not reached out to her.  My original mother has asked me to "please not make trouble," and for now, I have honored her request.

I'm not sure just what I'm going to do about all this, and when, but once again, I'm the one in the middle, the one worried about how my feelings and actions might impact everybody else.  Isn't it strange that adoption, which is allegedly conducted in the best interest of the child, puts a human being into such a difficult situation?

One of the reasons I advocate for adoption reform is that I do not want tomorrow's adoptees to have to worry about everybody else's feelings at the expense of their own.  That is what so many of us adoptees from the closed adoption era feel -- that we have to tiptoe around the feelings of our adoptive parents and the feelings of our original parents, all the while sublimating our own feelings and needs.  It doesn't help that during this confusing journey, other people are very eager to tell us what we should think and feel about adoption.

As a grown woman who has been an adopted person for 62 years now, I do not want to be told by anyone what I should think about my own adoption.  And I especially don't want to be patronized, yet like other adoptees, I often am.

To many stakeholders in adoption, my many years of experience as an adoptee are irrelevant.  Over the past ten years, ever since I have had the audacity to declare I have an inherent right to know my own basic history, I have been insulted and patronized by adoption agency personnel, several adoption attorneys, legislators, and occasionally even casual friends and acquaintances, who unknowingly parrot common adoption myths like these:  "Birth mothers were guaranteed secrecy," and "It shouldn't bother you that you don't know your ancestry -- your 'real' parents are the people who raised you."

I became an activist when I came to realize it is the adoption industry itself that willfully drives such myths in its attempts to sell adoption as the win-win solution for everyone involved.  Interacting with the agency that facilitated my adoption many years ago was the catalyst that spurred my growth from polite "people pleaser" to adoptee rights activist.

This agency maintains a confidential intermediary system that will connect adoptees to original parents if both parties agree.  In my case, the system failed for several reasons, one being the agency's bureaucratic and rigid protocol.

I felt most patronized, I think, when the agency's CEO, after several interactions between us, wrote this to me:  "I hope your efforts to advocate for adoption reform impacts the secrecy that surrounds the nature of adoption to make a positive change for the future."

This sentence actually enraged me, because this agency had charged me for their meagre services, had lost my records for several months, and as I now know, had given me misleading information about my original mother.  All the while, they behaved as if they knew best, from a social worker's first question to me -- "Why do you want to know?" -- to the last, condescending letter from the CEO.

Now I realize that the agency is constrained by the archaic law that seals an adoptee's original birth record.  But my thoughts in response to the CEO's statement are these:  Why do you encourage me "to make a positive change for the future" even as you continue to facilitate closed adoptions?  If you really cared about impacting "the secrecy that surrounds the nature of adoption," you would take a stand.  You would advocate for an adoptee rights bill that would enable adult adoptees to act in their own best interest.  The fact is: You do not care at all about the rights of adopted people.

This agency's long-standing motto is "changing the lives of children since 1894."  As an adopted adult, I feel a more honest slogan would be "changing the lives of adults (especially if you are infertile or are in trouble) since 1894."  What the agency really does in its adoption program is meet the needs of adults who wish to become parents through adoption and the needs of adults with "problem" pregnancies who wish to relinquish their babies and remain undetected in a government and agency-sponsored witness protection program.

As I wrote back to the agency's CEO: "Why should I or any adopted person be asked to honor an agreement that was unjust and that didn't consider my best interest in the first place? ... Babies are not commodities -- they grow into adolescents and adults, and many are unwilling to accept the legal fiction that the closed adoption system has forced upon them.  I don't see how you can say you are an advocate for children and then remain on the fence about those same children's life-long rights, when the harmful psychological impact of the secrecy and lies inherent in the closed adoption system has been well documented for years now."

The agency most likely wrote me off as another one of those "emotional" adoptees.  But this experience was actually very educational for me.  It demonstrated that I have no legal rights at all and that my "best interest" as an adopted person isn't even on the radar screen.  At one point, an agency social worker said to my husband, who had made a phone call on my behalf, "Well how would you like to be approached by a child, now grown, who you had fathered years ago?"  She just assumed that the adopted person has no right to know who her original parents are, and that the original parents would have no desire to know how their offspring have fared.  What an ignorant, insulting and patronizing comment.

Legislators, unfortunately, often echo this agency's point of view.  A NJ Assembly member once said to me:  "People have to keep secrets."  He might as well have added, "And you're one of them, so you have no right to know who your original parents are.  You're a special case, and we have to exclude you from the rights that the rest of us enjoy."

I was so dumbfounded at the time that I couldn't think of an appropriate response.  Now, wiser and more self-confident, I might respond, "Just wait a minute.  I never agreed as a condition of my adoption to keep lifetime secrets for other people, especially when those secrets affect my own well-being."


One of the things so objectionable about the adoption industry is that it works to willfully hide the truth from adopted people, in spite of all the evidence that original mothers and adoptees benefit from more honesty and openness.  And the fact that most adoptions today have some degree of openness has not solved the legal problems -- the original birth certificates of adoptees remain sealed in the majority of US states.

The legal framework that drives the discriminatory thinking that I and many other adoptees have encountered must change.  And someday it will.  But if it's to happen anytime soon, many more of us who have lived the adopted life will have to speak out, and encourage others to do the same.


You might also like:

The Silent Adoptee

Why I Oppose Confidential Intermediaries

Why Adoption Experts Sometimes Irk Adult Adoptees

Where do Family Ties and Adoptee Rights Intersect?

What I Would Like Adoptive Parents to Know ...

Today I have a guest post published over at Death by Great Wall, a blog written by Dana, an adoptive mother.  Dana is running a series on her blog aimed at helping adoptive parents to better understand how it feels to grow up adopted.  She has asked several adoptees if they would be willing to share a personal story and end it with the statement "What I would like adoptive parents to know ... ."  I was happy to participate, as my goal in writing about adoption is to offer compassionate education to all affected parties from my own experience as a mature adoptee and activist for adoption reform.  I'll try to hook you with my lead here and encourage you to finish the story at Death by Great Wall!




I was a 52-year-old adult at the time, but as an adoptee, my hands were shaking and my heart was pounding as I picked up the phone to return a call from the woman who had given birth to me. Several weeks before, I had sent her a compassionate and carefully-worded letter by certified mail, expressing my openness to exchanging information with her, and accompanied by a brief, easy-to-understand medical questionnaire that my daughter, a physician, had prepared.

My original mother had already returned the questionnaire along with a brief, rather terse note -- "Please do not try to contact me again. I've thought about you often and in my heart I love you, but I have no desire to meet." I already knew from my agency's "non-identifying" information that my original mother had another daughter -- five years old -- when I was relinquished. Her note to me also added, "My daughter does not know about you. Please don't cause problems." ...

You can continue reading this story here.

Will Adult Adoptees Ever be Treated like Grown-ups?

Is anyone else as disgusted as I am at the slow pace of the adoption reform movement -- specifically the state-by-state efforts to allow adult citizens who happen to be adopted access to their own birth certificates?

The New Jersey Coalition for Adoption Reform and Education (NJCARE) tries valiantly year after year to get an adult adoptee access bill passed, and year after year it is thwarted by last-minute back room deals driven by the opposition -- Catholic Bishops, NJ Right to Life, the National Council for Adoption (NCFA) and the NJ Bar Association.

These groups continue to oppose adult adoptee access even though we now have years of experience from the open-access states and from other countries that shows their fears are completely unfounded.  Meanwhile, everyday people who have an ounce of common sense just shake their heads in disbelief when I explain to them that most fully-grown adoptees have no access to the document that records their true and actual birth.

Apparently, by law, adoptees in this country are still expected for life to be somebody other than who they really are.  When a child's adoption in the US is finalized, an amended birth certificate is issued that lists the adoptive parents as the child's mother and father.  The original birth certificate is "sealed" by the state, and adoptees must petition the court and show "good cause," a condition that has never been legally defined, should they desire to know the truth about their own genetic roots.

Of course legions of adoptees search for their origins in spite of the legal obstacles.  Search angels and some private investigators specialize in the field.  But isn't it ridiculous and unjust that an entire class of people must jump through all kinds of hoops in order to find out the most basic information about themselves?

The adoption industry has been quite successful in convincing people that the practice of adoption is just fine exactly like it is.  Their propaganda, aimed at selling the concept that adoption is a win-win situation for all the parties involved, has been effective.  Most people seem to assume that adoption is always a wonderful and positive option that leads to happily-ever-after endings for all.

The lifelong loss that so many original mothers feel?  We don't hear so much about that.  The identity struggles that many adoptees face as they come to terms with their relinquishment?  A secondary concern.  How much easier it is to just assume, as I did as a child, that love will conquer all.

My guess is that most people aren't even aware that the original birth certificates of adoptees are sealed for life in most states.  And if they are aware, they probably assume, incorrectly, that adoption has always been conducted this way, and that the secrecy is necessary for the "protection" of birth parents.  Those who oppose adult adoptee access talk a great deal about the need for birth parent protection, although hordes of original mothers have come forward to tell us that they were not promised, nor did they ask for "confidentiality."

As I have written in other posts, allowing adopted adults access to their original birth certificates is not a novel and untested concept.  In England and Australia, adult adoptees have had access to their own birth documents for over 30 years!  Here, a few states have opened up access, but progress across the country remains slow, and the quest for adoptee rights is always a frustrating, uphill battle.

What is really galling is that the press for the most part does not challenge the propaganda of the power brokers in adoption.  These groups insist that original mothers were promised anonymity, when an examination of the history and of the surrender documents themselves shows clearly that records were sealed to hide the identity of the adoptee, not the identity of the original family.

And why are birth records sealed for one of the most common types of adoption, that initiated by step-parents?  In these cases, and in adoptions out of foster care, the children for the most part already have their original information, and yet still, their original birth certificates are sealed.  Domestic infant adoptions actually comprise just a tiny portion of all adoptions finalized each year, yet the power brokers in adoption ask us to accept that original birth certificates are sealed across the board to preserve the "anonymity" or privacy of original parents.

The most telling statistic, of course, is that fewer than 1 percent of original parents have a preference for anonymity, according to combined statistics from those open-access states that maintain records (American Adoption Congress, Statistics for States Implementing Access to Original Birth Certificates).  Just who is it that adoption facilitators are so intent on protecting, even as they continue to violate the rights of the person that adoption is supposed to serve -- the adoptee?

It is apparent to me that they are either trying to protect themselves by keeping their files under lock and key, or they are responding to the desire of some adoptive parents to begin with a clean slate, adoptive parents who want nothing whatsoever to do with the original families.  Whatever the motivation, it is clear that it does not center around the best interest of the child.

Sometimes, I wonder whether I am wasting my time writing these posts, when we see so little progress in the legislative arena.  I am a rational, logical person, and it drives me crazy that the opposition to Adoptee Rights Bills is not based on any established fact.  As far as I can see, the opposition is based on a misguided ideology, power and money.

Will adult adoptees ever be treated like grown-ups by law?  Sadly, I am beginning to doubt it.


You might also like:

Sealed Records -- A Secret the Industry Would Like to Keep

Money and Power Stymie Adoptee Rights Bills

Why do State Bar Associations Oppose Adoptee Rights?

Pro-life Ideology and Adoptee Rights

Are Adult Adoptees Worthy of Respect?

Unfortunately, adult adoptees in the United States are still not respected as autonomous human beings capable of making intelligent and appropriate choices.  If they were, how can we possibly explain the fact that in most states, adopted adults are still denied access to their own original birth certificates?

Amanda Woolston over at Declassified Adoptee has written a perceptive post on this issue here.  As she explains, opponents to adoptee rights usually frame their argument around three themes: boundary issues, in which the assumption is that adult adoptees cannot manage boundaries or relationships without supervision; secrecy issues, in which the assumption is the original parents are cowering in shame and must therefore be protected; and social issues, in which the assumption is abortions will go up if adoptees are allowed access to their true birth records.

The data disproves all these assumptions, yet they remain prevalent.  To be clear, what adult adoptees are asking for legislatively is the opportunity to secure their true and original birth certificates.  When adoptions are finalized in the United States, the child's original birth certificate is sealed away, and an amended one, listing the adoptive parents as the mother and father, is issued.

This bizarre and outdated practice was initiated during the shame-based era around the mid-twentieth century, and it was never intended to protect the anonymity of original parents -- surrender documents reveal that the intent, rather, was to protect the adopted child from the "shame of illegitimacy," and the adoptive family from "unwarranted interference or intrusion."  The assumption at that time was that the original mother would forget the child and move on with her life, and that the child would forget that she ever had other parents.

Now, many years later, of course, we know better.  The data maintained by those states and countries that have restored adult adoptee access shows that the vast majority of original parents are not paralyzed by shame and are most often happy to hear from their surrendered offspring.  Meanwhile, scores of adoptees search for their original families every year in spite of the legal obstacles because they feel deeply that they are entitled as human beings to know their own personal history.  Whether the adopted adult elects to search or not, she should have the freedom to secure her own birth certificate, just like any other American citizen.  Denying her that right is so discriminatory that it amazes me that it continues to be an accepted practice.

What is the justification for denying the adult adoptee equal rights?  As Amanda points out, it is rooted in a negative view of the adoptee and often the original parents as well.  Some legislators infer that adoptees are "stalkers" who cannot be trusted to respond appropriately, should they use their true birth certificate to search, and should they encounter a negative response.  I  find this viewpoint particularly insulting, since my original mother was one of the few who was not open to a personal meeting.  We had a helpful phone conversation, and that was the end of our contact.  Neither of us was harmed, and we handled our private past -- which we co-own -- like the adults we both are.

Other legislators assume that original parents are so overwhelmed by shame that adult adoptees cannot possibly be allowed to know who they are.  First of all, this scenario ignores the fact that many adoptees find their original families every year -- an estimated 40 percent of them received some identifying information in their adoption decrees.  The idea of guaranteed anonymity for the birth family is truly a myth.

Secondly, this shame-based view treats neither the adult adoptee nor the original parent with any respect.  The assumption is that the adoptee is likely to tread into a place where she is not wanted, and that the original parent will not be able to handle the shock of hearing from her relinquished offspring.  Never mind the fact that legally, courts throughout the United States have always had the right to open adoptee birth records "for good cause." (at the adoptee's time and expense, of course)  Meanwhile, reunion stories in the media have become so commonplace that it boggles the mind to think that any original parent could ever be totally shocked to receive a call or letter.

The assumption that abortions will increase should the adult adoptee be granted access to her true birth record may be the most difficult assumption to refute, even though statistics show that there is no relation between abortion rates and adult adoptee access.  As Amanda points out in her post, adoptees are punished because we cannot figure out as a society how to address women's health issues.  The civil right of the adult adoptee to know her own personal history must take a back seat to the ongoing debates about abortion and women's reproductive choices.

As an adult adoptee, I personally resent being held hostage to this ongoing debate about women's health concerns.  My rights as a human being should not be compromised because of the social views of a minority of citizens.  Human rights are human rights.  Every human being has a right to her own identity and her own genetic make-up.  In what other area of life do we deny a population equal rights to support an ideological argument?

If adoptees and original parents were truly respected, they would be treated like the adults they are -- capable of managing their own personal affairs without agency or state interference.  The argument over adoptee rights, as Amanda points out, would then take on a totally different framework.

Instead of saying or thinking, "Adoptees are likely to have a dreadful effect on an original parent's life," we would say, "Adult adoptees should have the opportunity to have positive relationships with their original families."

Instead of saying, "We must maintain a system of secrecy and lies so that adoption remains a viable option," we would say, "Adult adoptees can often be an asset to their original families, and the truth may very well allow all parties a sense of closure."

Instead of saying, "A woman must be allowed to remain a lifetime secret to her own child," we would say, "This child and every child is worthy of respect and equal treatment under the law, so it is imperative that we address the unjust social policies now in place."

As an adult adoptee, I respect myself.   But unfortunately, my state's laws don't respect me.



 You might also like:

Adoptee Rights and a Woman's Reproductive Choices

Sealed Records Are Wrong. Period.

Why I Oppose Confidential Intermediaries

Pro-life Ideology and Adoptee Rights