My Mom and the Truth: Adoption and Otherwise

My mom, Susan Perry, passed away on Monday, April 7th, 2014. Words fall short as to how much we all miss her. I will continue to guest post on this site. We are still hoping that Governor Christie will sign S873/A1259 (The Adoptees Birthright Bill) into law in New Jersey, and that other states will pass similar legislation as well. For now, I am sharing what I said at my mom's service on Friday April 11th (my uncle, my sister, my dad and I all spoke), which is more about her than about the advocacy, though I talk about how my mom always spoke the truth (adoption or otherwise). I cannot express how strongly I feel about the need for reform and justice for adoptees everywhere. My mom might still be here if it were not for the outdated and antiquated laws in NJ (please see her past post as to why the intermediary system doesn't work). But more on that later. For now, my mom:

Mom

I love this picture of my mom with my niece Emma, taken this summer in LBI the weekend after her diagnosois. My mom's t-shirt reads "Life is good."

In addition to thanking my mom for everything that my sister Kate just spoke of, and for thanking all of you for being here today, I would like to thank her for one more thing as well: her commitment to telling the truth, always.

One of those truths was how she really felt about cooking, exemplified by her “I Hate to Cook Cookbook,” given to her by her mother. That cookbook is still on my mom’s shelf, the “Chilly-night Chili” recipe marked with a bookmark and her unmistakable handwriting. I ate that chili many times, along with a few other trademark recipes that my mom had mastered. Still, I loved cooking with my mom when I was younger, even if it was a birthday cake made from the box. I especially remember baking carrot cake with cream cheese frosting with her many times when I was a little girl. And when my sister committed to eating healthier in high school, my mom subscribed to the magazine “Cooking Light” and prepared many of its complicated recipes for us. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Yet over the last 8 months, as we were able to reflect with my mom about her life, my sister and I thanked her often for what a wonderful mom she had been to us. Once, we reminded her about how much we had both loved the tradition of bringing up the card table from the basement each year to roll out the homemade dough for Christmas cookies. It was a process that took hours. Without missing a beat my mom replied, “Yes, and now that you’re older and know better, you can see what a sacrifice of love that was!” We all burst out laughing. Yes, I can see.

Another, related truth my mom told, however, was that eating good food, especially with loved ones, is one of the great pleasures of life. “I love when you cook,” she would tell me or Kate or my dad, or perhaps Kate’s brother in law Rod, but most often my husband Anthony or Kate’s husband Ed, “so I’ll clean up after you cook. I’m happy to clean up so I don’t need to cook.” Then she would rave so much about the meal, with every bite, that any effort would be well worth it. We spent almost every one of her birthdays for the last 15 years like that, enjoying seafood feasts at the shore. 

Another truth my mom  passed on to all of us is that heated competition is one of life’s great activities, especially when you win, but even when you don’t. But especially when you win.  Now, my Uncle Ken does tell a story about how he stopped by one time when Kate and I were young and he was concerned because we were playing “The Whale Game,” a game with no winners or losers designed to foster cooperative play, a game apparently so boring that when I mentioned it to Kate she didn’t even remember playing (she did remember jumping on the Parcheesi board and smashing it when she was losing once, though -- an action that, despite my mom’s love of competition, was quickly addressed. She cared about sportsmanship). The whale game phase was a quick one though, and my mom soon moved on to coaching our softball teams to victory and teaching us the delights of Pictionary, Parcheesi, and Sorry. As Kate spoke about, my mom was competitive in the best way in her own life, too. When I was little our basement was lined with trophies from when my parents won the married couples tennis tournament at the Field Club. The few times they lost they did so in a tie breaker, and it was my dad’s fault, and I know this because my mom told my dad, often. Usually, she told my dad the next year, while they were playing, as in, “Ok, this year, don’t blow it.” 

My mom loved skiing, swimming, body surfing, sailing, and maybe even playing golf (though she claimed not to, we all knew when she had a great round). When she was little, she and her brother had such heated wrestling competitions, setting up in separate corners of the bed as though they were in a real ring,  that they often broke the bed, much to my grandmother’s chagrin.

And my mom passed this love of competition on to her grandchildren. She loved watching them play, and came to nearly every one of my daughter Grace’s travel soccer games this fall, and many of her travel basketball games this winter, despite how she was feeling. Just two months ago she was at a heated basketball game of Grace’s, as both of the teams were undefeated coming into it. The other team was extremely rough, and a little obnoxious, and the ref wasn’t calling anything. Finally, when the ref didn’t call perhaps the 5th time that a girl on the other team blatantly pushed down one of Grace’s teammates, my mom couldn’t hold it in any longer: “Come on ref!” she screamed, “Call the foul!” Later, we would laugh about this moment (Grace confirmed, "Nana, you were loud!”) but at the time she just couldn’t be silent. As I said, she loved to win, but she was ok if she lost -- the game just had to be fair.

Speaking of fairness, another truth my mom spoke was the truth about adoption. Even as she spoke of the deep love of her adoptive family, including her brother Doug, and her wonderful childhood, and the sweetness of her reunion with Carol and Jo, she was never quiet, and she never backed down, when faced with powerful interests who bent the truth. Her calm, clear voice was, and is, more powerful than those interests. Eventually, I know, it will prevail.

My mom spoke the truth about cancer, saying that it was not something she had needed to better appreciate her life -- she already appreciated her life -- and that it was difficult, and that it made her mad, as her body failed, and that it was tough, some days, to be hopeful ... But at the same time she squeezed out every bit of possible life since last July, body surfing with all of us that first weekend after the diagnosis, paddle boarding with her friends, walking, and then, as the treatment and the cancer took their toll, enjoying music, and movies, and learning how to draw - I love thinking of her sitting down with my daughter Genevieve to draw the  birds at the feeder out her living room window, and finally, in these last two months,  talking,  laughing, then only smiling. Honest and funny to the end, just last week as my Dad and sister and I helped her with one of the indignities that cancer brings upon you, and she said, “I’m so sorry,” to us, my sister answered, “Mom, you are NOT allowed to apologize. We are so happy just to be here with you.” Mom again didn’t miss a beat: “I highly doubt that,” she said, and again, we all laughed, even when it felt that laughter wasn’t possible. That’s what my mom did for us, and for so many who loved her.

My mom spoke the truth about love, telling me when I was younger that flowers and candles were nice but what was really nice was when you could marry your best friend, as she had. At the time, I thought that was so unromantic, but as I’ve grown older I’ve seen the beauty and romance of my parents' relationship, and marriage. My mom also told me that I wouldn’t understand how much she loved me until I had children of my own, and she was right. And when her mother, my Nana, died, she told me how much she would miss her. “Nobody loves you like your mom,” she said. That is so true. I know that I will miss that love the rest of my life.

Finally, there is one truth that I have learned that I would share with my mom if she were here today, and that I want to share with all of you. It involves a story that my mom and I have told and retold for years, laughing every time. We were at the beach one hot August day when I was about 7 years old, and the waves were huge. Though I was no stranger to the ocean, my mom wouldn’t let me in unless I held her hand. Sure enough, a huge wave broke not too far out and I braced myself for its impact, as did my mom. She must have been a bit in front of me because it knocked her down first, and under we went, still holding hands, not knowing which way was up and which way was down. Still, she never let go. Our hands clasped, we finally emerged from the wave, hair in our faces, sand in our suits, salt in our throats. Later, we would laugh and talk about here she was trying to protect me and she pulled me under, but now, thinking about that story, I see it its bare truth: nothing can break that bond of love. The ocean may send its fiercest wave, but love wins in the end. Love emerges. And though now I feel pulled down, and tossed around, and lost without her, I know that once the wave passes, what remains is love.

Fighting the Myths that Derail Adoptee Rights

Yesterday, the Senate Health, Human Services and Senior Citizens Committee in New Jersey in a unanimous 9-0 vote approved the adoptee birthright bill (S873) that would allow adopted people to secure their original birth certificates at the age of 18.  Original parents would be able to file documents with the state registrar indicating whether they would prefer to be contacted directly, through an intermediary, or not at all.  A similar bill passed in the state of Oregon in the year 2000.  Since then, over 10,000 adopted adults have received their birth records, and there have been fewer than five complaints.  Other states that have passed adoptee rights legislation maintain similar statistics.

If only the data, instead of the myths and the monied interests, would drive this debate to a successful conclusion!  Still opposing this legislation in New Jersey are the NJ Bar Association, the Catholic Conference of Bishops, NJ Right to Life, and unbelievably, ACLU-NJ.  Representing the ACLU, attorney Lynn Nowak maintained that a confidential intermediary system would be the correct approach.  Marie Tasy, representing NJ Right to Life, concurred, and objected to the fact that the conference preference form is non-binding.  Patrick Brannigan, representing the Catholic Conference, believes original parents should have the right to redact their names from the original birth certificate.

I'll post my rebuttals to the opposition's positions in the links following this article.  In the meantime, I was encouraged by the compelling, fact-based testimony offered by the bill's supporters, and by the fact that both Committee Chairman Joseph Vitale (D-Middlesex) and Senator Diane Allen (R-Burlington) vigorously questioned the opposition's stance.

Although I was unable to attend the hearing, my two sisters and husband were there to present my testimony, and Senator Allen hopes to share it with Gov. Chris Christie's office as this legislation moves forward.

Sister Carol Dowlen, husband Ty and sister Jo Pierson fighting the good fight in Trenton

Here is a copy of the testimony my family presented on my behalf:

Thank you, Senators, for the opportunity to present this testimony in support of the Adoptee Birthright Bill.  I am an adopted adult, age 63.  I have several compelling reasons for supporting this legislation, the first being that I am currently battling stage 4 melanoma, a medical condition that I have since learned ran in my natural family.  Had I known that fact 16 years ago, when I had my first bout with the disease, I am quite sure that both my doctors and I would have been much more attentive to what appeared to be a skin tag by my large right toe.

The second reason I strongly support this law is that through a series of miraculous coincidences, I have come to know two dear sisters who are lovingly supporting me in many ways as I battle this disease.  It should not take a miracle to come to know people to whom we are related by blood!

The fundamental question is this:  Do we believe adopted adults are worthy of respect?  Do we respect them enough to treat them equally by law -- that is to grant them the same access to their original birth certificates that every other full-grown citizen enjoys?  And do we respect them enough to trust them to handle their own personal affairs competently?

Surely, it is unjust to treat an entire group of people differently by law than we treat everyone else.  Consider, for a moment, how Martin Luther King Jr. defined an “unjust” law.  It is one that a majority inflicts upon a minority, said King, and one with which the majority is not expected to comply.  The law is especially onerous, said King, when the minority that is affected has had no say in designing or enacting the law.  Obviously, we adopted people had no say in crafting a law that would forever bar us from knowing our own ancestry and genetic history.

While equal access to our original birth certificates is a classic issue of civil rights, there is an element of respect that must be addressed here as well.  There seems to be a fear among opponents of this legislation that the adopted person is intent upon inflicting some kind of harm upon the original family.  This kind of thinking is neither fair nor valid.

First, there is a difference between equal access and reunion.  Some adoptees search, some do not, but every adopted person should be treated equally by the law.  Equal rights are equal rights.  Reunion is a personal choice, one to be made by the full-grown adults most intimately affected and no one else.

I hired a private investigator and sought out my first mother over ten years ago because I felt strongly that I had a moral right to do so.  I am not going to jeopardize my own physical and emotional health, and that of my children and grandchildren, because of an outdated law that makes no sense, factually or morally.

The investigator found my original mother quickly, as my parents and I had always had my birth name.  My daughter, a doctor, prepared a user-friendly medical questionnaire, and I sent it along with a letter by certified mail.  My original mother was one of the few who was not open to continuing contact.  She is now deceased, but in fact she was that woman who opponents to this bill say they are most concerned about.

No harm came to her because of the contact I made, a scenario that is supported by the data from every state that has enacted adoptee rights legislation.  In Oregon, where adopted adults have had access to their original birth certificates since the year 2000, over 10,000 adopted people have secured their records, and there have been fewer than five complaints.  My original mother returned the medical questionnaire to me and called me that same week.  We had one helpful phone conversation, and that was the end of our contact.

Our private past -- which we co-own -- is no one’s business except for hers and mine.  We handled our past like the adults we both are.  Again, there is a difference between basic knowledge, which is a right, and relationship, which is a personal choice.

To look at adoption as a positive option, we need to make sure that the person who is supposed to be the main beneficiary, the adoptee, is treated fairly and with respect, not like a second-class citizen.  We need to make sure original mothers are treated fairly and with respect as well, and most, in fact, do want to know how their children have fared in life.

We should not be crafting policy to serve the preferences of a very few, and trampling all over the rights of the vast majority.  Instead of saying, “A woman should be allowed to remain a lifetime secret to her own child,” we should be saying, “Every adopted child is worthy of respect and as an adult, should certainly be entitled to equal treatment under the law.”

Instead of saying, “Adoption must be predicated on secrecy and denial,” we should be saying, “The truth, however challenging it may be, may well allow all parties a sense of peace and closure.”

In closing, I’ll say, “As an adopted adult, I respect myself.”  But any law that assigns me to a separate category or burdens me with special provisions does not respect me as an autonomous, capable person.

I am proud of my family for taking the time to represent me in Trenton.  And I am proud of my colleagues at NJCARE for so intelligently presenting our case.  The opponents have no facts to support their position -- none.  Please read the links below, and let the Catholic Conference, NJ Right to Life, ACLU-NJ and the NJ Bar Association know how misguided their stance is.  Someday, hopefully soon, these institutional opponents will be shown to be on the wrong side of history.  Let's all work together to make that happen.

Please see:

Why I Oppose Confidential Intermediaries

Why do State Bar Associations Oppose Adoptee Rights?

ACLU-NJ Misses the Mark on Adoption

Pro-Life Ideology and Adoptee Rights

Overcoming the Myths that Thwart Adoptee Rights Bills


Here is contact information for some of our opponents:

Patrick Brannigan, Executive Director of NJ Catholic Conference, pbrannigan@njcathconf.com

New Jersey Right to Life: (732) 562-0562, feedback@njrtl.org

ACLU-NJ: Post Office Box 32159, Newark, NJ 07102, 973-642-2084

Ohio Right to Life Embraces Adoptee Rights

My husband and I have just returned from three glorious days of skiing in Vermont with two of our granddaughters.  For us, it was like history revisited, since Vermont's Sugarbush is where we introduced our two daughters to big mountain skiing many years ago.  Genevieve, on the right, looks just like her mother, and Grace, on the left, acts just like my older daughter did -- protective of her little sister as they looked for hidden trails and little jumps together.  My time on our I-Pad was limited, since Grace had downloaded about 30 games for the long car ride up, but I did check up on the news occasionally.  

How encouraged I was to see that Ohio Right to Life (ORTL), in a dramatic turn-around,  had actually testified in favor of an adoptee rights bill that would allow adopted adults to secure their original birth certificates (OBCs) just like any other citizen.  For years, influential Right to Life groups have testified in opposition to such bills, fearful that they would discourage adoption and perhaps increase abortion rates.  Finally, Ohio Right to Life has come to understand the facts -- that treating adopted adults equally under the law will not encourage women to choose abortion over adoption.

Here's what Stephanie Krider of ORTL told Ohio's House Judiciary Committee in support of the bill that would permit people who had been adopted in Ohio between 1964 and 1996 to secure their OBCs: ..."for faulty reasons for decades, Ohio Right to Life opposed opening adoption records to adoptees born/adopted between 1964 and 1996" because they believed birth mothers had been guaranteed rights of confidentiality and the measure would protect adoptees from potential embarrassment about the circumstances of their birth or from unwanted contact from birth parents.

"Frankly, these are outdated concerns. ..."

She went on to explain that "cultural values have changed" and that being an adoptive parent or relinquishing a child for adoption no longer carry the stigma they once did.

"It is our belief that supporting (this bill) ... would not be a disservice to birth mothers who have placed their child for adoption. Legal guarantees could never have been made to these mothers to ensure their children would never have access to their original birth certificate.

Krider also emphasized that Ohio Right to Life encourages adoption instead of abortion for women who may be facing an unwanted pregnancy. "If we had any reservations about this bill and the effect it would have on chances of women choosing abortion over adoption," she said, " I would not be standing before you in support of the measure today."

Like Krider,  Jaime Miracle of NARAL Pro-Choice Ohio, also testified in favor of the bill.    While allowing adoptees to access "important family medical information," she explained, the bill also works to protect the privacy of birth parents by allowing them to express their desire for or against being contacted by the adult adoptee.

"This system will, in fact, better protect the privacy of birth parents by creating a system where they can express their preferences for being contacted, which currently does not exist."

Both Krider and Miracle have expressed the truths here that adoptee rights activists have been presenting for years.  Allowing adopted adults to secure their OBCs does not discourage adoption, and it does not encourage abortion.  Statistics from the states and countries that have opened up access prove that this is so.  Original mothers were never guaranteed confidentiality from their own offspring, as every state always had some mechanism by which the records could be opened.  Adopted people find their original families every day, using social networks, and often information from their own adoption decrees.  Without adoptee rights bills, original parents have no way to indicate their desires -- whether they are open to contact, they would prefer not to be contacted, or they would prefer to be contacted through an intermediary.  Most adoptee rights bills, like the one proposed in Ohio, give the original parents the opportunity to express their preferences.  

Data from open access states indicates that the vast majority of relinquishing parents are open to contact.  What a breakthrough that Ohio Right to Life has finally come to recognize this reality.  We can only hope that other Right to Life chapters will follow suit.  The way to promote adoption is not to deny equal rights to adopted people; it is to treat adopted people with the same respect that we afford everyone else.


You might also like:

Adoption and Abortion: It's Not as Simple as Many Pro-lifers Think

Adoption Reform and Political Games

Adoptive Parents and Pro-lifers who Cannot or Will Not See the Realities of Adoption

Lifetime Secrets and Their Effect on the Adoptee

As an  older adopted person, I've come to terms with the fact that there are many things about my background I'll probably never know.  While I've had a sweet, but brief conversation with my first mother by phone, I've never laid eyes on her, and she did not wish to meet face to face.  I don't know the name of my original father, although social workers at the agency that placed me in 1950 do.  My first mother said that she couldn't tell me anything about him "because he was a married man."  As  a woman in her eighties, this was still her thinking, I suppose, that she did something terribly wrong by becoming entangled in an improper relationship.

My understanding from my "non-identifying information" is that my first father was a family friend from Denmark -- both my original parents are Danish -- who was separated from his wife at the time of his relationship with my first mother.  My original mother, I am told, hoped for a long-term commitment; my original father, quite a bit older at the time of my conception -- age 53 -- was apparently unwilling to commit.

There was some talk, I'm told by an agency social worker, of me going to live with my first father's son and wife before I was placed for adoption.  I still have no idea where I was during the first three months of my life, or who cared for me during that time.  I realize that I know a lot more than some adopted people do.  I know my ancestry, I know my first father lived into his eighties, and that my first mother is still alive at the age of 89.  I know I have a half-sister five years older than I am, and at some point, I'll probably contact her.

I believe that I have all the information about my first mother that I am going to get from her -- she made it clear that she did not wish to talk again.  She was able to tell me in that brief phone conversation that "she loved me in her heart," but she has lived her entire life not acknowledging my existence to anyone else except for her own mother.

It irritates me no end that I can't learn more about my first father, as he sounds very interesting.  He was raised in Denmark, trained as a pilot, and loved the outdoor life, just as I always have.  He is long deceased, as is his son, so just what risk there would be in the agency releasing his name to me is hard to understand.  And that is the injustice and the ludicrous nature of sealed record laws -- in this case, they afford more rights to the dead than they do to the living, and they bind the adopted person to a lifetime restraining order in which he or she had no voice.

Although the sealed record system encourages denial as a standard coping mechanism, I think both my first mother and my adoptive mother were just starting to understand the complexities and the hidden nature of adoption as they both approached their old age.  My first mother picked up the phone and called me after we had exchanged letters and medical information, I believe, because she came to realize that in protecting her own secret and rejecting my offer to meet, she was hurting me at a core and primal level.  She wasn't able to open up completely, but she was able to say "I love you," and I appreciate the fact that she was at least able to reach out a little.  She relinquished, after all, in a very different era from the open society in which we now live.

And while my adoptive mother didn't like to think about the fact that I had an original family, she did say to me as she grew older, "If you ever want to know more, the files are right there in that drawer." She herself knew nothing about sealed records, and my adoption decree included my original birth name.  My mother only knew that  adoption had worked extremely well for her -- it had given her the family she so badly wanted -- but she felt deep inside, I think, that there was an underlying, hidden aspect.  She just didn't want to go there.

One thing I do know for sure is that my adoptive parents truly did love me, and that love and support has helped to make me the person I am today.  My genes have helped to make me that person as well, of course, and it is only natural from my perspective that I should want to know more about the people who passed them on to me.  I am motivated to write about adoption issues because I believe strongly that sealed records are unjust, and that they are truly damaging to many, many people.  They encourage unhealthy thinking, repression, and denial as the means for coping with life.

Sealed records were the reason in my case, I think, that it took me too long to grow up and assume total responsibility for my own life.  In a way, sealed records imprisoned me, because I didn't feel free to express my innermost feelings about adoption.  Although I seemed to be successful in my personal and professional life -- I did well in school, earned graduate degrees, married happily, had children, and worked as a teacher and public relations professional -- I did not feel empowered to take charge of my own story until I was well into my forties.

Every adopted person's journey is unique, of course, but I know that my story is not atypical.  I just cannot understand why, as a culture, we would continue to shackle adopted people to an institution that is governed by such archaic and repressive laws, when the data tells us clearly that most first mothers are open to contact.  Those who are not, like my original mother, can simply say no.  This is an emotional subject for sure, but all of us affected are adults now-- we do not need outside agents supervising our own, very personal business.

The repressive laws set the tone for the either-or thinking we often see in on-line responses to adoption articles.  The kind of thinking that assumes those adoptees who search are expressing disloyalty to their adoptive parents, or that the adoptee should just "be grateful" and move on.  These attitudes are really very hurtful and dismissive of many adopted people's experiences, when the reality, obviously, is that an adoptee does have two sets of parents, and like every other human being, is a unique mix of her DNA and her upbringing.

Telling adoptees that they are not entitled by law to access their own original birth certificates is belittling and unfair, when every other American citizen can apply for and secure hers for a nominal fee.  It is institutional discrimination, and it exists for no good reason, as we have plenty of evidence to show that adoptee rights bills work for the benefit of the greatest number of people.

I do not know whether these essays I post are making a difference or not, but I feel compelled to share my experience.  If I don't, as an older adopted person, who will?   It is probably too late for me to learn much more about my personal history, but it's not too late for many others.  I write in the hopes that my voice, along with so many others, can play some small part in advancing the cause of adoptee rights, so that other human beings affected by the sealed record era will not be made to feel guilty just for attempting to discover the truth about their own lives.


You might also like:

Adoptee Rights, DNA, and the Opposition

An Open Letter to Adoptive Parents

Sealed Records are Wrong.  Period

Why does America lag behind on adoptee rights?