I Feel the Need to Protect Her

Another post from Jenn, Susan's daughter. Susan passed away from malignant melanoma in April of 2014. She met her biological sisters 8 months before that. 

A few things happened today, Saturday, April 30th. First, I received a letter from my church, Sacred Heart in Camden, about the House of Charity and our parish's goal of raising $51,273. I contemplated what to do. I love that church. They have been good to me and my children. I want to do our fair share to support it. But I don't know about the larger Catholic Church. I just don't know. I put the letter aside to think about it. The rest of the day was spent with my kids. Grace, my oldest, had a

Mom and Genevieve, circa 2008. "I feel the need to protect her."

soccer game in Medford, against the Medford Strikers, Carli Lloyd's old team. Though she didn't win, her team played great, and she had a few nice attempts on goal. Watching her play always, always makes me ache for my mom, who loved watching Grace play and reminded me that what I was supposed to say after a game was exactly that: "I love watching you play" and nothing more (i.e. no criticism or post-game analysis). Can you see this, mom? I sometimes think on the sidelines, watching Grace go.  I hope she can. After the game we raced home to see Grace's younger sister, Genevieve, perform in Peter Pan. She was a pirate. Watching her, so happy, dance and sing on stage, I of course thought of my mom as well, and how she would have been there. "I don't know why but I just feel a need to protect Genevieve, more than the others," my mom told me once. She would have loved to see her so happy, so in her element.

After the second showing of the play tonight, Genevieve went with a friend to the Friendly's after party, since I had to put her younger brother to bed and her dad was away. It was while I was waiting for her to get home that I happened to open the Catholic Star Herald from yesterday. This paper goes to all the dioceses in New Jersey. First I read a nice story about the Center for Environmental Transformation in Camden. Dimitrius Eliza, the 17-year-old Senior Farmer featured, is a member of my church and a phenomenal young man. I loved reading about him. Then I turned the page. This is what I saw:

There are so many reasons that both of these articles upset me, and that they should be upsetting to any sentient human being. My reaction upon reading them was to dig out the folder with all my mom's adoption correspondence. I found her letter to the Children's Home Society in Trenton from March 11, 2003. They had just refused to forward a letter she had written to her birth mother (who had been contacted by the agency by phone and apparently indicated in a "hostile" way that she wished for no contact with my mom). I will not include the whole letter here but rather just the postscript:

P.S. You refuse to forward a single letter of reconciliation to my birthmother, who has now rejected me twice and hurt me so badly, because the action could be deemed "legal harassment"? When I have not requested a face-to-face meeting and when there was no written contract guaranteeing her anonymity in the first place? Frankly, I don't believe you could be more insensitive to my feelings and my need to heal; you are simply conducting business as usual and hoping I'll crawl back under a rock. 

What are you afraid of? That this woman, elderly and probably of modest means, will sue because she receives a single letter - and a kind letter at that - about an issue she'd rather not think about? I imagine the likelihood of my taking some legal action is quite a bit higher, since I am totally committed to my rights as a human being, I am economically secure, and I am about as angry as a person can possibly be. 

Please note that in 1999, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld two landmark decisions in Tennessee and Oregon, saying that the right of the adopted child to know her origins prevailed over the right of the birth parents' confidentiality. The legal tide is changing, thank God, even as your bureaucracy strives to maintain a safe and noncommittal position on the shore, all the while maintaining that you have compassion for the feelings of the adoptee. You can't have it both ways, and you have made it quite clear in your refusal to make any exceptions or compromises in my case that adoptees' feelings are always considered last, if at all. 

The tone of the Catholic Star Herald's articles (don't they know that in other countries the Catholic Church has apologized for its role in adoption?) has insured that I will not be giving to The House of Charity this year. It is not an easy decision for me. For as much as I am more conflicted than ever about how (if at all) I can continue to be involved in this church, I am not conflicted about my belief in God, nor my belief that God is good. Somehow, some way, my mom is with this God. Ironically, it was finding my mother's sisters, one of the greatest miracles of my life, and certainly of hers, that helped cement this belief for me. I simply felt it to be true with all of my being, even in one of the most difficult times of my life. It is because of this belief that I remain committed to keeping my faith at the center of all that I do. It is because of this that I remain committed to working for good. Whether or not I can do that as a member of the Catholic Church is something I am trying to figure out. While I work on that, I'll keep writing, and I'll keep sharing my mom's words as often as I can because ... well, just as she said about Genevieve all those years ago, I feel the need to protect her. Her and all the adoptees who are not protected at all. May God keep them close. 

Click HERE (scan of physical paper) or HERE (link to website with articles -- scroll down to second and third stories) to see the two stories in The Catholic Star Herald (4.29.2016). I plan to write more about what's so upsetting about these stories, so for those commenting, please know I will incorporate your comments. Thank you.

All Souls Day and My Mom

Another post by Jenn, Susan's daughter. Susan passed away in April of 2014 eight months after being diagnosed with Stage IV melanoma and seven months after reuniting with her biological sisters.

This morning, on All Souls Day, a day the Catholic Church has traditionally recognized as one to remember and pray for our loved ones who have died, I cleaned out my dresser and put it out on the curb. Our house was burglarized two weeks ago (You can read about it HERE), and the robbers, in their rush to pull out all the drawers and look for treasures, actually broke them (the dresser was an inexpensive Ikea piece that I bought 12 years ago, when I first got married, so no surprise there, just some annoyance). Among my clothes I found some folded pieces of paper, and I discovered, when I opened them, that they were journal entries from last fall, scribbled just after my mom's diagnosis. I wish I could have kept a journal of every day, of everything that happened and everything that we said to each other from her diagnosis in late July to her death in early April, but even now I know that it was impossible. These scraps of paper are all that I could do. Finding them today, it was enough. Here is the first one, from September 4th, two days before I sent a letter to Carol, her biological sister, and five days before she, Carol, and Joanne, her two sisters, were reunited:

I know I wrote "too" wrong in "Because I asked her to(o)!" That is just a reminder of how crazy last year was, trying to be there for my mom, my own children, and my students. "The whole thing cut me to the core." Yes, it did. 

When my mom's diagnosis was still new, I felt like I couldn't breathe. Sometimes at night I would have to get out of bed and go sit on the front porch to stare at the stars and wonder how we could get out of this. Please, please, please, I would pray. Not my mom. It was during this time that I asked my mom's blessing to write her sister, who didn't know about her (or so we thought). My mom had known about this sister for a few years but hadn't written for many reasons. Her original mother, when my mom had finally found her years before, had told my mom that she was a secret from everyone, even her own daughter, and asked her not to make trouble. My mom was not a trouble maker. Neither was I, really, but the only answer I could discern from all my fervent praying for my mom was Send the letter. It didn't make sense, really, when there were so many other things to be worrying about, but that inner voice, Send the letter, just wouldn't go away. So I sat down late one Thursday night and wrote a letter to my mom's older sister. I tucked in two pictures, one of each of my daughters, to help soften what I imagined would be quite a shock, and included a letter my mom had written herself, several years before, but never sent. I mailed it the next day.

It is strange for me to read "half sister" here, since my mom's older sister, once reunited with her, became a "full sister" in every way, as did her younger sister. 

That weekend, my mom got really sick. My dad called me when I was on the way home from my sister's and asked if I would come over. I did. My mom and I lay in her bed together, the full weight of what she was facing upon us both. We cried a bit, and we laughed, too. Please, please, please, I prayed, Not my mom. I wasn't thinking at all about the letter I had written to her sister. I was thinking about her, and how I wasn't really sure if I could live without her.

This was written two days before talking with my mom's older sister for the first time. "We've been desperately searching for her," my mom's sister told me, when we did talk, explaining that they had found a birth record two weeks before.

Monday was my first day back at school with students, and my first day ever taking Joseph, my then two-year-old, to day care. I had no idea how I was going to get through the day, let alone the week, or the year. And it was at the end of that day, right after I picked up Joseph, that I received the phone call from my mom's older sister (I've written about this day in a previous post -- Click HERE to read). I might as well have had an actual angel come sit down beside me in the car, I felt so comforted. I knew that this was a miracle, and I think that my mom and her sisters did too. They had found each other, despite everything. They had found each other.

The miracle of my mom's reunion with her sisters helped lift my heart, and my mom's heart, at a time when it was needed most. To this day, it helps me keep my faith in a God who is loving and merciful, one who held my mom (and her siblings) in the palm of His hand, and holds her (and them) still. 

My mom was soon speaking with her sisters herself, and they were making the drive down to see her as often as possible. They e-mailed her, too, every single day, with little funny stories, words of encouragement, and words of love. They were my mom's angels. They were mine, too. And I need to hold on to this goodness, this reminder, when I am made crazy by everything else.

Today, on All Souls Day, I did not go to church. I simply couldn't. The Catholic Church has been so adamant in its opposition to allowing adoptees access to their original birth certificates, and so disingenuous in its arguing, that I find it currently impossible to attend, despite the goodness of so many I know who do attend (and usually know nothing about this scandal). Instead, my husband and I ourselves read the story of Mary and Martha mourning the death of their brother Lazarus to our children, and we prayed for the souls of those we have loved. I do not know what we'll do going forward. I can only follow my heart, and my earnest prayers, and do what I believe to be right.

After all of the press about my mom and adoption last year, I have been approached by so many in the adoption triad who have shared their stories with me. I listen very, very carefully. And what I have learned is that most of us would not even survive what birth (original) mothers were made to go through. The very Catholic church that is now using birth mothers as an argument for not allowing adoptees access to their original birth certificates is the one that shamed them (birth mothers) into giving up their children, telling them to "forget about them," in the first place. Women had to pay room and board, and often work, in exchange for their medical care, and then their babies were given away (at a high price) before they ever had a chance to hold them. I cannot begin to imagine the grief.

There is great grief, too, for adoptees, blocked forever from knowing who this mother was. I saw this clearly enough with my own mom, even as she loved and cherished her own adoptive parents. And I know that there is often grief for adoptive parents, before the adoption, as they deal with the excruciating pain of miscarriages and infertility. Please, please, please, we have all prayed at one time, our hearts filled with grief. Sometimes, it feels as if there is no answer. Sometimes, we wonder where God could be. I do too. But I have had it confirmed in my heart, in the deepest seat of my soul, that a God of mercy, and tenderness, and love, and TRUTH, does exist beneath the madness, of which I can still make no sense. In the face of great grief, love and truth are the only answer. Secrecy, shame, and fear are not. Don't you agree, dear Catholic Church? For you are worth so much more to me than an Ikea bedroom dresser, and I would rather not take you to the curb. But if I must choose between Love and Truth and you, I will choose Love and Truth, for that, of course, is God.

My Ikea dresser on the curb

A New Alert Has Been Issued: Catholics, Ask Governor Christie to SIGN S873/A1259

Another guest post from Jenn, Susan's daughter.

I became a Catholic the year after I graduated from college, while I was serving for a year with the Franciscans in Wilmington, Delaware. Moved by my experience working with the poor, the disenfranchised, the migrant, I saw only the beauty of the church during that year. Several years later, when by chance I met and sat with Maria Esperanza, a woman whose sainthood cause was opened at the St. Francis Cathedral in Metuchen, New Jersey in 2010, and who has been described by the Catholic Review of Baltimore as "a Venezuelan woman believed to have seen 31 apparitions of Mary who spread worldwide a message of family reconciliation and fraternal unity that she said Mary relayed to her," I deepened a faith that I've continued to practice these past 15 years.

 

Me, with son Joseph Rocco, after his baptism three years ago

So it is especially upsetting to me to see an "ALERT" issued on the webpage of the New Jersey Catholic Conference stating "Ask Governor Christie to Veto S799/A1406," which, though incorrectly referred to here (the bill currently pending is S873/A1259), is the Adoptees' Birthright Bill, just passed in the NJ Assembly and Senate, and waiting for Governor Christie's signature. I read through the Statement by Patrick Brannigan in Opposition to S799 from March 3, 2010, posted underneath the ALERT, because I am a person who likes to consider others' views and make sure that my own are rooted in the truth. There are so many things in that statement that I would like to address that I will have to do it over several posts, but here is what I need to address first (all quotes are from this Statement, which pulls heavily from Mills, in which, apparently, "the court reviewed at length the interests that are involved in placing adoption records under seal"):

"The child is the most important party to the adoption"   - Yes! I agree. Nothing should come above protecting the rights of the child.

"The State has the obligation to protect the interests of this voiceless party" - Yes! I agree again. The child placed for adoption has no voice. Thank goodness so many adult adoptees have bravely spoken up in past years to let us know what the interests of the adopted child are. For who else, other than someone who has lived adoption, can speak to these interests? Adult adoptees have told us that adoptees don't necessarily need reunions (though I have learned from my mother's experience that reunions can be sweet, and healing, and beautiful) but rather the right to their own birth certificate, and the right to navigate those deeply personal relationships without State interference. That is what the law currently awaiting Governor Christie's signature provides. It is just and certainly protects "this voiceless party," the child adoptee who will some day grow up, with rights long denied. If the adoptee chooses never to search that, of course, is fine. This is a rights bill, not a reunions bill.

My mom as a child, the "voiceless party" in adoption.
Now an adult, she doesn't need, or want, the State's "protection." 

"[Sealed records] protect the child from any possible stigma of illegitimacy which, though fading, may still exist ... "   - Wait! What? This is the only argument being used to say that sealed records are in the best interest of the adopted child? Is anyone truly still thinking of adopted children as "illegitimate"? Adoptees have spoken out strongly in favor of NOT sealing records. Though some adults may choose not to search, they certainly don't feel that they need the State's protection from any "stigma." There must be some other argument showing how sealed records benefit adoptees. Apparently, though, there is not. All other arguments cited in this Statement are for the benefit of some other member in the triad of adoption -- and I don't find them any more credible then those purporting to look out for the adopted child. But more on that tomorrow.

As a Catholic, I would like the New Jersey Catholic Conference, New Jersey Right to Life, and Governor Christie (who is Catholic, and who cited the position of New Jersey Catholics when he last conditionally vetoed this bill in 2011) to know I do believe that the most important party in an adoption is the child, and that the State does have an obligation to protect this voiceless party. The way to do that is by encouraging Governor Christie to sign S873/A1259, the Adoptees Birthright Bill. Or, if you are Governor Christie, by simply signing the bill yourself.


**Similar bills (for adoptees' rights to their original birth certificates) have been supported by the Catholic Conference in other states.

a Venezuelan woman believed to have seen 31 apparitions of Mary who spread worldwide a message of family reconciliation and fraternal unity that she said Mary relayed to her. - See more at: http://catholicreview.org/article/life/metuchen-opens-sainthood-cause-for-venezuelan-mystic-who-died-in-us#sthash.oExFuRF6.dpuf

Maria Esperanza Medrano de Bianchini, a Venezuelan woman believed to have seen 31 apparitions of Mary who spread worldwide a message of family reconciliation and fraternal unity that she said Mary relayed to her. - See more at: http://catholicreview.org/article/life/metuchen-opens-sainthood-cause-for-venezuelan-mystic-who-died-in-us#sthash.oExFuRF6.dpuf

Maria Esperanza Medrano de Bianchini, a Venezuelan woman believed to have seen 31 apparitions of Mary who spread worldwide a message of family reconciliation and fraternal unity that she said Mary relayed to her. - See more at: http://catholicreview.org/article/life/metuchen-opens-sainthood-cause-for-venezuelan-mystic-who-died-in-us#sthash.oExFuRF6.dpuf

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