Birth Mother Dithering

A new comment popped up on my two-year-old BlogHer post Facebook-Stalking My Birth Son:

"I really have no right to say one way or another what you should or shouldn't do, but from what I have read,-If you are correct in that your son has never been told of his adoption-than he has had something taken from him that nobody has a right to take; it seems that you are justifying and making excuses for the adopive father's completely selfish choices, even though your pain and anger is apparent in the intro of your post.  Your son is now an adult, and you speak of him as though he is still a child. Your decision is perhaps very "noble" but quite unfair to him really...IMHO, he at least deserves to be given the right to choose what he wants to do with the information.  He has a mother out there who has never forgotten him!!!! What could be more valuable?  If he's not interested in following up then fine, but lurking behind the shadows is certainly no good to him (or you really)."

My response:

It is reality-altering information, and there's no taking it back. But you are right in that I'm feeling cowardly, too -- so far, I haven't been rejected by him, at least not overtly.

What do you think? If you were adopted, do you think it is your right to know that information, even if your adoptive parents never told you?

His parents and I never agreed to open or closed, really. His mother was always good about sending me photos, but she died fifteen years ago and since then I've not heard a thing. And I really do think  this information should come from his father, not from me. It would be a hell of a lot easier if I could just find out if he knows he's adopted or not!

Goodbye National Adoption Month

National Adoption Month is over in less than an hour. I'm mostly thinking "sayonara!"

I don't write much about the young man I gave up for adoption 21 years ago, because there's not much to write. His once-open Facebook page is practically shuttered. He has almost no Internet presence, which is downright odd in this era of social media as collegiate oxygen. These things make me suspect he's either:

1. Unaware that he's adopted and a techno-contrarian like his smart phone-rejecting biological mother, or 
2. Very aware that he's adopted, possibly aware of me even -- but skeeved by my fitful biomom blogging and so staying offline and away from my Google-y clutches. 

The first is not that unlikely. His blondie-blonde non-Mexican aunt was adopted into his dark-skinned dark-haired Mexican family and never told she came from elsewhere -- she was loved, they are a tightly knit extended family, that's not the way they do things, it didn't matter. The young man himself is a ginger, he is well-loved by and adores his family -- and as I've written before, I have no wish to disrupt that scenario, distasteful as non-disclosure of adoption might be to me personally.

And if it's the second? Sigh. I just ... am sad he's missing out on knowing us. All the signs say he'd like our family. He is a devotee of Star Trek: TNG and a slightly humorless geek like me, he is an intense history-loving academic like my eldest brother (the one info point I've been able to find lately is that he's Phi Beta Kappa), he has my mom's and second brother's flaming hair. I grew up with lots of cousins and adore them all, I married into a large Portuguese family and adore them all -- more family to love and to love a person back is only a good thing, in my book. But, he's not reaching out like most adopted people his age do, according to BlogHer, and that makes me think the connection is increasingly unlikely to happen.

At this point, all I really want to know is whether or not he knows he's adopted, but there's no way to find that out that's not creepy or potentially disruptive.

So I guess there's really only one thing left for me to do, and then I'll have done everything I can: Tell Mali she has an older half-brother, as I told Iz six years ago. I'm not looking forward to it. Mali is a really -- really -- different girl than her older sister, so I will definitely discuss it with Seymour and may even enlist a professional family counselor for advice before having That Talk. Iz is sweet and sensitive, but she's an intellectualizer, she understands the logic behind an unprepared young woman giving up a child for adoption. Mali, whip-smart as she is, is all heart -- she's only going to hear that she has a big brother whom she cannot and may not ever meet. It's going to require finesse, that chat.

As always, opinions and advice welcome. I'll leave you with the video I'd so like to share with him.

In Which I Stalk An Amazing Young Man

I've kept my latest BlogHer post in my back pocket for the past two years, even though the force known as Susie Bright encouraged me to write about it when we were all oversharing at last spring's Woolfcamp. The story? It's about how I stalk my birth son on Facebook:

Of course I stalk my birth son on Facebook. How could I not? His barely-open adoption slammed shut fifteen years ago after his mother suddenly took ill and died, and the gods of irony handed his father the closed adoption he'd always wanted. I spent years hoping for information but listening to cricket chirps -- until two years ago, when a cynical Facebook search turned fruitful: he had a limited public profile! I've been checking in on him weekly ever since.

I finally wrote it out after Facebook exploded everyone's privacy settings, and I gained access to his Wall. It was too much OMG to keep to myself! Also, acquaintances who knew about my birth son kept asking if I wanted to see the new birth parents/children reunion reality show, Find My Family. (My answer: hell NO. He doesn't know he's adopted, there will be no reunion, stop sticking bamboo slivers under my fingernails please.)

But the BlogHer post wasn't the first time I'd written about my birth son -- I blogged about him in 2005, when Facebook didn't exist and he was still lost to me:

When he was still very small, his mother died. I found this out while my husband and I were trying without success to have children of our own. In my anger, I cursed the universe that allowed my birth son to be a motherless child, while I remained a childless mother. I simmered down after the joy of our first child's birth, but still wonder how that boy will feel if he ever finds out that he could have had contact with another mother during all those lonely years.

(Note that I was still in thrall to DAN!/curbie/autism stigmatization at the time, and also complained about giving up an NT son and then having one with autism. We all learn and grow, right?)

People have mostly been kind about the story, and said kind, supportive things. Jeanne Sager even wrote her own post about it, on Strollerderby:

The sudden opening of Facebook pages scared plenty of people into purging their pages of their drunken idiocy, but for one mother who gave up her son to adoption, it was a gift.

While you were trying to figure out if Mark Zuckerberg was indeed drunk or stoned, Shannon Des Roches Rosa was lovingly taking in every last detail of her biological son’s life, piece by amazing piece.

A commenter on BlogHer has suggested that I investigate the matter more fully, and try to find out if he knows he's adopted. Another hell no. If it's meant to happen, it will. The means are available. I will leave it entirely up to him, mostly because of stories like Beth Broecker's Salon.com story about being stalked by her own birth mother:

At age 6, when I first learned I was adopted, I cried and cried, not because I wanted to know who my birth parents were, or because I felt lost or empty, but because I wanted to have been born to my parents. I loved them so completely that I didn't want any mysterious thing out in the world to mean that I was less a part of them.

I also think that, were such a reunion to happen, I would like it to happen more gracefully and with more professional courtesy than those on Find My Family. So would SocialWrkr24/7:

Also, this episode was the beginning of my issue with the hosts because I thought it was pretty obvious that the adopted daughter had NOT been looking for her birth parents. She said she thought about it and that her adoptive father had encouraged it - but she hadn't done so yet. Obviously she had her reasons - but all of a sudden there was Tim Green at her door with the "exciting" news that her "mom and dad" had been looking for her! I felt like the poor girl looked shell shocked through most of the reunion process. This is one of the many reasons that I feel like some kind of "professional" would be better suited as the host. Reunions are wonderful on TV, but in reality that can bring up all kinds of complicated mixed feelings. 

And finally, there are the good folks on Reddit, who framed it in the context of privacy violations, and were 45% creeped out. Sigh. But they also thought the story would make a good movie:

ravenrue: 

lol. I enjoyed it. Makes me think it could be made into a movie.

Golgo13:

Tim McGraw - Evil Adoptive Dad

Hilary Swank - Dead Adoptive Mom

Michael Cera - The son

Cameron Diaz - Artsy Mom

Who is with me?

Me, I'm just glad the story's out there. Who knows, maybe he will come across the BlogHer post one day and recognize himself despite the scrubbed and altered details, and pursue contact. I certainly wouldn't mind. He seems like a very cool young man.

Double Dipping on BlogHer

BlogHer had me plaster up two posts this week, rather than the usual just one.

The first is about the Anita Teldadi adopted-child surrendering scenario. As I wrote last week, the story punches some of my most sensitive buttons. I tried to sort out my tangled emotions in the post, about what relinquishing a child means to someone who has done it as a birth mother, and also to a someone who claps her hands over her ears and starts yodeling whenever anyone brings up the term "residential care" with regards to Leo. When does being the best parent for a child mean putting them into another's care? I'd be interested to know what you think.

The second post is an interview with Autism Science Foundation president and founder Alison Singer. She is a role model for parents like me whose attitudes and outlook and education about our children with autism and indeed on autism in general have evolved over many years. I particularly admire her positivity; she shows that it is possible to highlight approaches harmful to our children or autistic adults, that drain the wallets of the autism-affiliated and credulous -- without using a verbal baseball bat. She calls for us all to move on, be smart, be mindful of the role of love, and to save our energies and resources to support our kids and families, now. She also talks about her relationship with the Neurodiversity community, and clarifies what exactly the Autism Science Foundation does and plans to do (hint: support research research research!).

I'd be grateful if you'd leave any comments on the BlogHer posts themselves. Thanks.

My Adoption Shpiel

You have to imagine me reading the entry below in a very shaky voice, because--as I told Ep--talking about gardening in public makes me cry.

Other people whose lives have been touched by adoption spoke as well. It was a very powerful service. I am grateful that Seymour, Ep, Jo's mom, and JP were all there to lend support.

During my youngest daughter's pregnancy, people would regard the two children already by my side and ask, "Is this your third?"

"Yes," I would say, "It's our third."

Because she was our third. But she was my fourth.

I became a birth mother as a twenty-year-old college student, when I realized that, to me, being pro-choice meant carrying an unexpected pregnancy to term.

To be completely honest, the whole experience was and remains surreal. I was not mature enough to appreciate how profoundly my choices affected the lives of everyone involved. When I think about being a birth mother, it is with a certain detachment*, because I feel my choices were completely logical. I realize that the child shares my genes, but I never once thought of him as mine.

I maintain this attitude for emotional self-protection, and because his parents wanted a closed adoption. His mother was willing to send me pictures, but his father wanted to pretend I didn't exist. I don't know if he will ever be told about me.

When he was eight years old, his mother died of cancer. I found this out while my husband and I were trying without success to have children of our own. In my anger, I cursed the universe that allowed my birth son to be a motherless child, while eight years later I remained a childless mother. I simmered down after the joy of our first child's birth, but still wonder how that boy will feel if he ever finds out that he could have had contact with another mother during all those lonely years.

Being a birth mother is not something I bring up in casual conversation, but it is also not a topic I avoid. This is not to say that I lack strong feelings about that child, or that phase of my life. I find it painfully ironic that the son I got to keep is autistic, whereas the son I gave away is not. But my strongest emotions are not about me.

Mostly, I wonder how my mother was affected. She was the one who convinced me to consider adoption. Good thing, too, as I hadn't a clue about the costs and realities of parenting. Before she intervened, I just figured that my boyfriend and I would keep the baby, and I could have fun dressing it in cute clothes. How big a deal could it be? Maybe I'd take a quarter or two off from school.

Knowing what I now do about child rearing and my own capabilities, I can only think about that life-that-could-have-been with panic and relief. Every time I look at the husband and children I so desperately love, I silently thank my mother for guiding me towards them.

My mother has six grandchildren now, but at that time she had none, and it would be five more years before a real one arrived. She was the one who arranged for the child to be adopted by an office acquaintance. How did she bear it, seeing her only grandchild grow up in the picture frames on her co-worker's desk?

I suppose I could ask her.

*I wanted to write "...with almost Vulcan detachment," but Seymour said that a Star Trek reference would be jarring and inappropriate.

Her Reaction

Took Iz to ice cream today, and casually mentioned that one of Leelo's classmates' families just adopted a baby. She asked why one would do something like that, and I gave the standard answer about sometimes women get pregnant accidentally, and are then not in a position to care for the child. Followed by a discussion of the people we know who are adopted. She was moderately interested.
I then told her that I had given up a baby boy when I was 20, for the previously described reasons.

Her reaction: "How old were you when you had me?"
Me: "Twenty-nine. A lot can happen in nine years."
Iz: (looking pensive)
Me: "What's on your mind?"
Iz: "I'm adding 6 + 9. So he's fifteen?"
Me: "Around there."
Iz: "How did you get pregnant?"
Me: "Uh, the usual way."
Iz: "I mean WHY did you get pregnant?"
Me: "My birth control didn't work" (ed. note: see Mali)
Iz: "You should have used Saisonelle!"

I'm sure she's going to have lots of questions, but for now she seems to be remarkably unimpressed.