Examiner Book Tour: The Primal Wound

I am very excited to be hosting my very first bloggy book tour. Well, my alter-ego, the Open Adoption Examiner is.

Our first selection is The Primal Wound: Understanding the Adopted Child by Nancy Verrier. I and my fellow Book Tourists -- adoptees, first parents, adoptive/adopting parents -- spent November (Adoption Awareness Month) reading this controversial book that was originally published in 1993 -- the early days of the open adoption era.

My take on it? Between the nodding of head and the shaking of head, my neck got quite the workout.

The premise is that a primal wound exists for every baby/child/teen separated from his/her biological mother. This includes not only adoptees, but also babies placed in incubators, children born via surrogacy and children placed in day care. The thesis continues that such a primal wound leads to issues that "center around separation and loss, trust, rejection, guilt and shame, identity, intimacy, loyalty, and mastery or power and control..."

There is a LOT of insight in this book, which was written by an adoptive mom and therapist whose daughter was in deep pain. I think it's well worth a read, especially at this stage of my children's lives (they are 8 and 6).

When my children were babies, I would not have been as open and receptive to Verrier's thesis as I am now. During the baby years, I felt there was no question that my children had bonded with me. With my first, I was in a state of euphoria -- after years of drought, I was finally a mom! We had reached the happily-ever-after and because of what we'd been through to get there, the rest was to be a piece of cake. With my second, the attachment took a bit longer, seemingly on my end. I was certain, after we morphed into a tightly knit family, that happily-ever-after had resumed.

But babies don't stay babies. They grow and individualize and wonder and work things out. Issues arise. Some are overt and I can help with them. Yet other deeper issues may exist beyond my ability to reach. Reading this book extends my abilities by giving me insight into what might be going on as my children grow -- what to watch for what emotions lie beneath the behaviors, and what I might be called on to do or to allow to play out.

Children with a primal wound, according to Verrier, tend to be either highly controlling or highly compliant, as a result of a pre-verbal assault on the rightness of their world, of the utter lack of control during this defining episode of their lives. "Having been manipulated at the beginning of their lives makes some adoptees manipulating and controlling."

Children who become compliant, according to Verrier, may become highly responsible -- not because they are healthy and well-integrated, but as a response to that initial rejection. "As Rick said, 'I knew I had to be a better person than the one who was given away.'"

Children with a primal wound, according to Verrier, tend to have difficulty in relationships, with intimacy, due to this early break. They often pre-emptively push away people (and jobs) to avoid being hurt again. "Being wanted by my adoptive parents doesn't compare to being unwanted by my birthmother. -- an adoptee."

Ouch. What a powerful statement. We parents are wise to listen.

There are more indications of the primal wound, all worth knowing about, if only so that I can recognize what may (or may not) be happening for my kids as they become tweens and teens and adults. In my opinion, knowing is almost always better than not knowing -- hence my advocacy of open adoption and open records.

The head shaking came from the anecdotal nature of the evidence. When dealing with human subjects, it is impossible to isolate variables. Some adoptees are controlling. Some adoptees are not controlling. Some non-adoptees are controlling. Some non-adoptees are not controlling. A causal link has not been established because of the inability to isolate adoption as THE factor in a personality.

Many of the noted issues -- "separation and loss, trust, rejection, guilt and shame, identity, intimacy, loyalty, and mastery or power and control" -- perfectly describe ME. My own parents say that *I* am controlling. I became overly responsible and strived to be perfect. I have had trouble with abandonment. I have felt unworthy. I have felt I don't fit in with my own family.

I was separated from my mom at age 5 by an oxygen tent, so maybe I *do* suffer the primal wound.

But is it possible that perhaps these issues are maybe somewhat universal?

I addressed this conundrum on this post (about a comment from Melissa's post on Adoption Chiasm), excerpted here:

Me: Anonymous, I gather, suffers from a Primal Wound.

"I was adopted as an infant, I have a great adoptive family that I love very much. I was not abused. I got everything I ever wanted, went to college and have had a good life. I would give it all up to have been raised by my 17 year old emotionally immature birth mother. I would give it all up to experience what it would be like to grow up feeling normal, like I belonged and happy."

In essence, Anon asserts that the road not taken (the abstract) is superior to the good life s/he has had (the concrete).

The appeal of that road is that it is a fairy-tale road. There are never any potholes, and the sun always shines, but not too hot. It's a smooth, gently sloping road with bounteous apple trees adorning the sides. In short, it's the angel you don't know compared to the devil you do.

No one can ever prove or disprove Anon's notion that a life with a not-ready-to-parent biological mom would have been better than a life with those who parented her. Because we each get just one road.

This is the crux.

The comment started a new train of thought about roads not taken, which, as Melissa pointed out to me, is not just part of the adoption experience. It is part of the human experience.

On to my three chosen questions, asked by others touring with me.

Verrier presumes that most adoptive parents are ill equipped to handle the emotional complexities experienced by adoptees. Did/do you feel well prepared to address the sense of loss that your child might experience? How did you prepare yourself? How do you help/plan to help your child resolve his/her feelings about his/her adoption?
I went into parenting realizing that I was unprepared for both the parenting part and the adoptive parenting part, and also knowing that I would do my best to figure it all out.

To prepare myself, I have read lots and lots of first-person accounts of adoptees, running the gamut from happy to angry, which are very simplistic labels for very complex people.

I listen to what they say. I try to grasp what I can do to help (for example, keep communication open), what I should refrain from doing (for example, put the children in a position to divide their loyalties), and to also know when I cannot help -- when I must simply abide with my children while they work things out.

And I ask for the wisdom to know the difference.

How do you think open adoption changes the feel of this book? If you don't feel it changes it in any way, why? If you feel that it changes everything, in what ways? If you fall somewhere in the middle, how do you explain what does get changed and why other things are left unchanged?
I think open adoption does change the situation. I don't think it ameliorates it, but it does go a ways in relieving the tension of all that not-knowing.

I have two main concerns about our open situations:

1. Our daughter, in a fully open adoption with both first parents, has enough information on how her life would otherwise have been to build an idyllic picture in her head about it. She can see the grass on the other side of the fence, but it will never be her yard. Yet her older bio-brother gets to play there all the time (source).
2. Our son's is an open door adoption, meaning his first parents are welcome in our lives if they want to knock on the door. In meeting the needs of our daughter, are we making it more difficult for our son? One of our parenting challenges is to deal with the differing levels of openness our two children have. I am hoping that Ms Verrier will address this situation when she answers tour questions on the Examiner page (subscribe if you want to make sure you see it.)
   

As far as openness being an improvement over closed adoption, the proof is in the pudding. My children will be the final arbiters on this question as it pertains to them, in about a decade or two.

What signs did you see in your child that support the concept of a primal wound derived from separation of mother and child in the process of adoption?
I have what you might classify as a controlling child (I prefer to say assertive and spirited) and a compliant child (I prefer to say resilient and cuddly).

When we were going through reunion with my daughter's first father, I did also notice a push/pull as she was simultaneously drawn to Joe and also needed to know she was firmly rooted with us:

One afternoon we had an out-of-proportion argument over chores. She went from zero to steam-coming-out-the-ears in a flash. Her eyes a-blazing, she hissed, "And if I don't, are you going to send me to Joe?"

Whaaaaa?

Sudden flash of insight: she wasn't JUST worried that we would keep her from meeting Joe. She was ALSO worried that we might abdicate our place as her parents. This thought, I believe, filled her with terror. Like an earthquake was about to hit.

While I don't take it as gospel, I do recommend The Primal Wound for adoptive parents and pre-adoptive parents. Further, I recommend that the book be read periodically as the child grows and experiences different stages of cognitive development. It is also helpful to listen to the voices of adult adoptees -- for me, anyway.

To continue to the next leg of this book tour, please visit the main list at The Open Adoption Examiner.






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Roundtable: An adoptee's relationship with firstparents

I'm taking a seat at the Open Adoption Roundtable, where the assignment this session involves these italicized thoughts:

[Some say that] adopted persons should be free to initiate relationships with their first families--or not--on their own timetable. The parents (first and adoptive) in an adoption shouldn't make such an important and personal decision for them.

First, let me address the idea that adopted children (like children in general) should get to take the lead with their relationships. Yes! I support this -- in firstfamily, as well as in other relationships. But with no other extended family relationships do we say, "well wait to let little Bobby decide for himself how much and what kind of contact he wants."

Have you ever heard--or perhaps even made--statements like these?

#1: "The decision to have a relationship with her bio family should be hers when she is ready. Creating a relationship between them before she wants it might cause issues in the future."

Because I see our children's firstparents as extended family, I am going to replace one key word to see how logical the new statement sounds:

"The decision to have a relationship with her grandparents should be hers when she is ready. Creating a relationship between them before she wants it might cause issues in the future."

Ridiculous, no? Have a child wait until she's "ready" to meet her grandparents? When will she be ready, and how would you know?

#2: "Children deserve to have just one family during childhood and not to deal with anything adoption-related until they are more mature. A fully open adoption robs a child of a normal childhood."

The snag here (well, the one I'll address) is the word "normal." What is a "normal" childhood? This argument makes it sound like adoption cannot be part of "normal" childhood, that adoption is "abnormal" (some adoptees may agree with this, but it's certainly not an idea that parents should perpetuate).

The notion that being adopted is "abnormal" can do more damage to a child than "dealing with anything adoption related."

"We have medical histories and can share the information we have about their birth parents with our children now. If they feel a need to initiate contact with their birth families when they are adults, we will fully support them."

We do better to normalize our children's adoption from as early as possible. Our children come to us living in a gap between their biology and their biography. The sooner this schism is addressed and the less spread open the cleft is, the more likely it is to heal well and completely. Integration of the two parts of an adopted child's identity should, in my mind, be the responsibility of the decision-makers (parents) from Day 1 with their new child.

It seems to me that search and reunion after a lifetime of separation would be very difficult to navigate -- not just the relationship, but the feelings that go with establishing it. If I can prevent my children from having to go through search and reunion, I will. The way to do this is to foster contact with firstparents from as early on as possible.

Obviously, a parent needs to stay tuned in to his/her child to see signs of overwhelm or of distress. But the presence of these is not necessarily caused by openness. It's just that these feelings are out in the open, not buried. Dealing with any adoption issue in the light, in a supported way, without shame or secrecy -- THAT is what adoptive parents should initiate and provide.

As much as possible, I advocate that adoptive parents be introspective about the reasons behind their decisions regarding openness (or closed-ness). In a child-centered adoption, a parent's own fears and insecurities are examined and resolved, much the way we hope our children's will be. In a way, we are modeling the process toward wholeness for them.

One caveat: my remarks apply to situations where a family's safety is not threatened. I am talking about adoptions where the firstparents freely and lovingly placed a child, and are already child-centered-- not the drug-addicted wh0re stereotype, and not people who have boundary issues that could result in danger to anyone involved.

For more powerful thoughts on this topic, see this from Heather's archives.

Click over to Production, Not Reproduction to see what others have to say. And feel free to contribute your own thoughts.





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Bloom Where You're Planted

This is a cucumber plant in our yard. I did not put it there. I planted cucumbers about 75 feet away in a carefully tended garden. But this rogue cuke somehow grounded itself in the rocks, near the children's swing set and assorted pairs of stomping feet. Stubborn thing.

In that carefully tended garden, I have melons. I did not plant these melons. Earlier in the summer Roger served a breakfast of honeydew with prosciutto and lime juice, and then mulched the waste. I suppose the seeds took root. Stubborn things.

In the front yard, hanging over the driveway, there is a sunflower (? botanists, please confirm?). I did not plant it. There are no similar flowers near it. It is so florally prolific that it droops in the path of Roger's car as he heads into and out of the garage. It's taken quite a beating, but still keeps producing flowers that reach for the light. Stubborn thing.

I honor the hearty biology of these organisms, that they strive to grow where they are. I admire their thirst for sunlight, their ongoing quest for growth, no matter what sense there is in their surroundings.


I dedicate this post to Tessa and Reed, the hearty, stubborn rogues that landed in my garden. Grow with me here!

Open Adoption: Wish List

I'm taking a seat at the Open Adoption Roundtable, where the assignment this session is:

Share your wish list for your open adoption(s).

For Tessa's situation, which is fully open with both firstparents, I wish:

• that Tessa feels integrated rather than split as she grows emotionally and cognitively
• that seeing Tessa ceases to cause her birthfather, Joe, to ache (hey, it IS a wishlist)
• that Crystal and I have the wisdom to handle all the adoption questions that may come as Tessa grows into a tween, a teen, a young woman, a wife and mother herself
  

For Reed's situation, which is an open door adoption, I wish:

• that Michele would be more accessible to Reed, more present
  
• that Reed's birthfather would surface and that Reed would feel his love
• that Reed will continue to be OK with the differing levels of openness experienced by him and Tessa
• that Reed will always feel loved by his birthfamily, whether they are present or not
• that Roger and I have the wisdom to handle all the adoption questions that may come as Reed grows into a tween, a teen, a young man, a husband and father himself

Remember to click over to Production, Not Reproduction to see what others (adoptive parents, birthparents, even an OA adoptee) have to say. And if you're in an open adoption, feel free to contribute your own list to the roundtable.
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Should She Shhhhh or Should She Spill?

I almost always embrace the idea that truth is best, especially in matters of adoption and donor conception. People have a right to know their genetic origins, in an age-appropriate way.

Normally, "age-appropriate" means when the child is old enough to understand, and in ways to help him/her understand.

I've recently come across a situation, though, that bothers me because it's managed to land itself in the very small gray area I have about truth-telling. And it is also an age-appropriate issue. But in this case, the affected person is in his 50s.

He was adopted as an infant in 1955. But no one told him. His parents have died, and only his cousin (also in her 50s) is left with his truth.

Should she tell? Should this man know his truth at this stage of his life?

Should she stay quiet?

Should she attempt to guess what he would want (how could anyone know what they would want in this instance?)?

Is it any of her business? Does she bear a responsibility either way?

If you have some thoughts, I would love to hear them. Leave them here, or visit my friend Corey.
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Book tour: Mistress's Daughter

I've been heavy into Adoptee Literature* lately, trying to preview feelings my children may (or may not) have. On one hand, I want to prepare for issues that may arise, but on the other, I don't want to plant any where they may be none.

The Mistress's Daughter is the latest focus of The Barren Bi+ches Book Brigade. I always love it when a book draws me in, when it pulls me to return to it every night.

A.M. Homes' writing is so stark. No frills. It's easy for me to put moving pictures to her narrative. Her words and emotion mirror what some adult adoptees have expressed on various bulletin boards I frequent.

On the book tour, participants are given a set of questions, from which we each pick three. Here are mine. Directions for following along, or for joining the next tour, are at the end of the post. Make sure you click on the link below and visit the other reader reviews.

A feeling of the "subtlety of biology," a lovely aphorism, is not something that Homes necessarily welcomes. I sometimes feel that biology raps me over the head when I look at biologically-related family members. How has infertility affected our feelings about the "subtlety of biology"?

I can't remember what it was like when I still thought we were fertile. Did I study people's faces? Look for signs of biological connection? Or perhaps I did not give it much thought.

Now I am a face-looker. When I see kids at school from the same family, I notice the facial shape, the arrangement of the features, the portion of teeth showing in a smile. I look for these connections when the parents come around, too.

I wonder which families share biology, and which families, like mine, share biography.


Most adoptions from the 1950s' and 60s' are closed, with birth records sealed except upon a courts' finding "good cause" to open them. In light of Homes's experiences, does this seem to be the appropriate method for handling adoption records?

I see open records as a civil rights issue. It is morally wrong to allow access to original birth certificates to everyone EXCEPT for one class of citizens who are in this group simply by circumstances of their birth.

Some argue that a birthparent's right to privacy trumps an adoptee's right to know. I disagree. But my bias is toward open adoption, which greatly eases this issue.

For our children, we were issued two birth certificates each: their original ones and their amended ones.

This summer, adoptee rights groups are going to address the National Conference of State Legislators in New Orleans in order to influence open records legislation in all 50 states. Click on over to offer your support.


The author talks about searching for information on her ancestors and realized that many of the people searching were not adopted. She realized from that the question of "who am I" is not unique to adoptees. At what point in your life, have you felt the same way?

Shortly after we got married, my husband and I began videotaping (back in the day; it was a HUGE, shoulder-crushing camera) stories told by our grandparents. My grandpa grew up in a sod house in Nebraska. Roger's great-grandmother arrived in this country after literally being tossed (as a baby) onto a ship leaving Ireland.

Eventually, we will transfer these videos to DVD and pass them to our children for when they begin to question, "who am I."

These stories, after all, are the roots of their family tree.


Hop along to another stop on this blog tour by visiting the main list at Stirrup Queens. You can also sign up for the next book on this online book club: Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen (with author participation!)


* another good selection in the Young Adult genre is A Brief Chapter in My Impossible Life.

Returning to the well

My friend Crystal offered to have my children come play at her house for a few hours. Rob had been out of town, and some down time for me sounded reealllly good.

It was a no-brainer. Responsible child watcher? Free time? Of course!

But I had to stop to think a moment.

Because Crystal is Tessa's firstmom.

"Is this weird?" I thought. "It doesn't feel weird. It should feel weird. Other people would find it weird. But I am definitely not sensing weird." The thoughts chugged through my head as I searched for some rain on my parade.

Since day one in the birthing room, we've embraced Crystal as part of our extended family. At first this was merely because we'd planned a fully open adoption. But by about, oh, day two, it was clear that we'd be friends because we liked each other. Six years into the adoption, Crystal attends birthday parties for both our children, school events, and dance recitals, averaging about one visit a month. But, until now, I'd always been part of the get-togethers.


Was I worried that I'd be usurped as Mom? (No.) Could Crystal handle both my children, in addition to her own? (Yes.) Might my son feel left out? That last question was easily dismissed. Crystal has always shown her love for Reed. In a way, she's served as a surrogate birthmother for him, since contact with his own has faded. And Reed adores Crystal's 10-year-old son and three-year-old stepson.

These were my thoughts as I drove the kids to Crystal's house. I told Tessa and Reed to behave, reminded Crystal that she could call me, no matter what, and left, almost giddy at the open hours ahead of me.



When I returned to pick up the kids, Crystal had trimmed my daughter's hair (hairstyling is Crystal's line of work) and given her a pair of hand-me-down, purple boots. I told them how I spent my blissful hours of solitude (reading and writing), and they told me how they spent their loud hours of togetherness (running through the garden hose and eating). We were all fulfilled.


Now, let me expand a bit on my relationship with Tessa. She and I currently butt heads over everything from too-long showers to homework, from talking on the phone to doing her chores. I'm hoping that we will not revisit this tension during her teen years, because we'll have already been-there, done-that (please, don't burst my bubble). We each seem to "miss" each other often, and I am reminded of this post about an adoptee's feelings of being trans-familied. I am frustrated with our disconnect, and I imagine Tessa is, too.

When we got home, Tessa said, "Mom, I'm a new person!" I'm not sure if she meant the new hairstyle, the baptism-by-sprinkler, or what. But for days afterward, the fight in her was gone. The next morning, Tessa wanted to wear the purple boots to kindergarten. I said, "Those shoes are not appropriate for school. You do what you think will get you the consequences you want." I expected her to wear them to school, which would mean I'd have to throw them away as the logical consequence (items that cause disharmony go away).

But Tessa came to breakfast, smiling and cheerful, wearing her sneakers. I was so impressed with her out-of-character response that I brought the boots when I picked her up from school, so she could wear them to the dentist (not as inappropriate there).

After her time with Crystal, it's as if Tessa had been to the well. I realize that our temperaments don't always align--I'm orderly and analytical. My daughter is mercurial and playful--traits she shares with her birthmom. Maybe spending time with Crystal is, for Tessa, like sinking into a comfortable chair.

Should I feel hurt or threatened by Crystal's effect on Tessa? Here's why I'm not:

I don't know how to fix a tooth, but I can take Tessa to Dr. Jill. I don't like to play house for hours at a time, but I can invite Tessa's friends for a visit. I can't teach Tessa gymnastics, but she can take lessons from Miss Amber. And I can't fill a certain emotional need that Tessa has, but I can take her to the well.
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Wine and coffee with Anifish

Recently I had a delightful visit with my friend from a cross-triad adoption board, Anifish (that's her avatar), who is an adult adoptee. Her blog is on my blogroll, but lately she's been taking a break from all things adoption.

Ani's very talented daughter had a gymnastics meet in my city, so she drove up from her city with her 12 and 10 year-old girls to spent the night at our home.

Over just one glass of wine (I swear), Ani and I talked into the night. About adoption (she broke her moratorium temporarily), about parenting, about willful children, about our common online acquaintances.

We were at it again in the morning over coffee. Her kids and mine played nicely together. The heelys were a big hit with my children.

Anifish and I fit like pieces of a puzzle. She helps me understand the adoptee perspective, which I hope will help me be a better mom as my kids grow and integrate their adoption stories into their identities. I help her see the adoptive parent perspective, giving her insight into her own mom.

Here are some a-has we had. I pose these as theories, not facts. What do you think?

• Infertility is less shameful than it was pre-1980s. People are more "out" with their infertility. It is no longer something so embarrassing that you need to pretend you suddenly gave birth to a baby when, in reality, you have adopted one.

• Compared with earlier generations, adoptive couples today have more time to grieve and more assistance in processing their loss of a dream. Because of the time spent in IF treatments, my processing was quite lengthy. But the time we attended a meet-and-greet at the adoption agency, I was already 5 years into grieving. Further, I had clarified that at its essence, my dream really was to parent, not to procreate. Through the homestudy process, I was counseled even more through the grief. I felt pretty healthy by the time I became a mom, responsible for another life.
  

• The more healed the parents are, and the more they can separate their own adoption issues from their children's, the easier it will be for the children.
  

As for her break from adoption: Ani has been in reunion these past few years, and it's not been a wholly successful one. Sometimes she blogs and posts on the boards passionately, and sometimes she has to stay away from the intensity. I value her perspective because she neither praises nor condemns adoption. She simply tells how it feels to be her. She has only one agenda item: open records for adoptees.

Adopt a this, adopt a that

My friend (and owner of a fabulous private community for adoptive parents and hopeful adoptive parents) Joanne has a terrific post about one aspect of adoption language and its effect on a child of adoption.

Here's an excerpt of a letter Joanne sent to her daughter's Girl Scout leader a couple of months ago:

"Shawna told me about the stockings and that it was said in meeting that the troop is "adopting" two children for the holidays. I explained to her that the correct term to use in a case like this is "sponsoring". I'm wondering if you can bring this up on Tuesday because using the word "adopting" (when clearly the troop is not adopting two children) sends mixed messages (not only to adoptees but society at large) as to what adoption actually is. Most people (unless you've adopted like us or are an adoptee like Shawna), don't give it much though until someone points it out."

You can read the Girl Scout leader's positive response and the ensuing discussion at Forever Parents.

I see Adopt-a-Highway signs on my way to my kids' school each day and haven't given it much thought. I guess I'll be writing a letter to my city council. I hope to advocate for my kids as well as Joanne does.

A conversation I never want to have

(This entry was originally posted as a guest post on Stirrup Queens as part of Geohde's Great Blog Cross-Pollination.)

Because I have "chatted" with some of you, I know that many readers here are looking for travel brochures to Adoption World or are considering relocating there. Periodically I'm going to write about adoption language and why I choose some words and phrases over others.

The first phrase is give up for adoption (and variations). And here's the conversation I never want to have.

"Mom, why did Michele give me up?"

"Well, she loved you very much. In fact, she loved you so much that she found Daddy and me to be your forever parents."

"She loved me so much that she gave me away?"

"Well...not exactly..."

"If she loved me less, would she have kept me?"

"That's not what I meant..."

"And through the rest of my life, should I be afraid of anyone loving me too much because then they will reject me?"

"Let's start over, Reed."

Some may call it semantics or political correctness, but I DO have reasons for choosing certain words and phrases and rejecting others. In this case, I prefer made an adoption plan to gave up for adoption.

First of all, made an adoption plan implies conscious thought. Michele thought about her baby as she decided what to do (more on Reed's story ). She was aware of him. She planned the best future possible for him, given the resources available to her at the time. She was not forced out of parenting him (although this does happen in some cases, which I'm told is devastating for a child to realize).

And more importantly, it doesn't include rejection. Gave you up and gave you away are inherently rejective (to make up a word). And they could make the child feel like an old toy or an outgrown article of clothing, a toss-away. Imagine if you lived your life thinking you really weren't worth keeping.

It's not such a leap from she loved you so much she gave you up to big love = rejection. This is NOT a belief I want to impart to either of my children.

I want them to know that their firstmoms loved them enough to make a difficult choice. I want them to go through their lives fully capable of giving and receiving love. I'd rather have THIS conversation.

"Mom, why did Michele do adoption with me?"

"Michele loves you so much. She knew back then that she wasn't ready to be a mommy to any baby. Even though she really wanted to be with you, she made a plan to make sure you had parents who were ready to take care of you."

"That's you and Daddy?"

"Yup. You have so many grown-ups who have loved you from the very beginning. You are so lovable! (devolve into a tickle session.)"

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Other terms I plan to cover:

• "birthmom"
• "our" birthmother
• the birthmom "changed her mind"
• "He is adopted."
• "a child of my own"
• "born in my heart"

Please let me know if there are any others you'd like me to have addressed.

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I'm honored that Jenna and Pamela Jeanne have included me in a fabulous group of women who have been awarded the Blogger Flame of Fortitude. Jenna created this award to recognized our battle scars, our victories, our defeats and our courage in facing infertility.


I now pass the torch to Furrow, Yoka and Lea Bea and Niobe. Let's keep on supporting and keep on going, no matter what.

Breathing and birth certificates

When was the last time you really thought about air? Not air in the abstract, like the part of the Earth's atmosphere that humans may be warming and polluting.

But the concrete. The air that you're breathing right now. The air that's in your bedroom, bathroom, kitchen. The air in your Jeep, Honda, Chevy. The air on the bus, at your office, in the gym. The air in the grocery store, at Costco, surrounding the baseball field (oh, that's right. Only Colorado and 2 other teams are still playing baseball. Ha Ha!).

You haven't thought about the air you breathe in the last day, week, month? That's because YOU HAVE IT.

If all the air were to be sucked out of your home, your Honda, your Costco, then would you think about it? You bet your sweet bippy. You wouldn't be able to think of anything else. Thoughts of air would consume you.

Now. When was the last time you thought about your birth certificate? That tired and rumpled old document that says the date, time and location where you were born. That shows your height and weight. That shows your parents, and thereby infers your very identity by virtue of the underyling ethnic background and health history.

What? You haven't thought about your birth certificate since the last time you applied for a passport or driver's license? And even then you didn't really study it?

Then, you must not be an adopted person.

Adopted people in many parts of the United States are prevented from having access to their original birth certificates. I can have mine. You can have yours (unless you were adopted). But a class of citizens -- through circumstance of birth -- are denied the right to see and have the document that shows their identity on the day they were born.

Check out this video compiled to a Dashboard Confessional song and visit the site. Our country, founded on equal rights for all, should not tolerate the treatment of second-tier citizens. Support Open Records in your state.

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Triad View: Trans-familied feelings of an adoptee

Tessa and I are different in so many ways. I love to read (an introvert)...she loves to interact (extrovert). I can't stand to have bare feet...she can't stand to wear shoes. I like tidy and sorted...her room is post-Katrina-esque. She wakes up cheerful and eager...I, well, I don't.

Earlier this summer, I ran across this notion in an adoptee blog, Joy's Division. Joy explains the difference between who she was born to be and who she was raised to be. I am reminded of her post every time I notice how different I am from Tessa (more so with her than with Reed).

It was like two Golden Retrievers adopting a daschound, they were busy trying to understand why I wasn’t a Golden Retriever. They did their best to help me be a Golden Retriever, who can blame them? That is what they knew how to be. They didn’t know how to be a short legged long dog. They wanted to help me overcome my short legged long dogness, but were at a loss, and gave up.

Joy's post is an important one for adoptive parents in understanding how an adopted child might feel. But I'm not sure what to do with this insight. In fact, I believe Joy is not saying I should or shouldn't do anything as Tessa's mom. She's saying that this is simply what happens in adoption, when a child shares the biology of one tribe and the biography of another. Perhaps the best I can do is just to be aware.

So today I'm full of questions and musings. What is it like to have me as a mom? What is it like to be part of our family? Will Tessa one day feel as if she was forced into being something she's just not? What can I do to prevent her from having lingering feelings of being trans-familied?

Ideas? Thoughts?

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The adoption agency checks up on us in Under the microscope, on Drama 2B Mama.

Triad View: "Adoption is OK"

Here's a current perspective. Deb Donatti is a(n adoptive) mom of three. She blogs about Open Adoption on Adoption.com.

Deb recently met a person who had been adopted and was in reunion with her birthparents. This woman also has a loving relationship with her parents. In fact, this woman considered herself happy and well adjusted. Deb was left with a feeling of hope that her children are likely to experience the same.

A wise man once told me that to be grown up is to accept the world the way it IS rather than the way it SHOULD be.

So part of my job as a parent is to help my children be OK with the the way things ARE, with the life they have, with the cards they are dealt, which includes their adoption stories (and everything else that comes along).

So it's possible. Dare I say likely? To raise a son or daughter who can say -- and truly mean -- that adoption is no biggie?

Check back with me in 20 years. (But definitely not 10!)

Triad View: "Adoptions are meant to be closed!"

I have a close family member who was very candid with his thoughts recently.

He was adopted through Catholic Charities in the 1960s. He says he has never wanted to search for his birthparents. He says his "real" parents are the ones who brought him up. He says once his biological mother decided to give him up she should lost all rights to think of him; likewise he doesn't think of her.

Regarding our open adoptions, he fears that one day as a teenager, Tessa will find it too easy to blame normal teen angst on adoption. Further, with Crystal being so accessible, Tessa will play us against each other and the situation will be even more adversarial than it usually is during teen years.

Reed, he believes, should never think about his birthparents. We are his parents -- no ifs, ands or buts. The birthparents might as well have never existed.

He says, "Adoptions are meant to be closed. What you guys are doing is freaky."

Triad View: Through Anifish's eyes

I'm curious how my children might view their adoption stories when they are grown. Here’s an example of how adoption looks to Anifish, a woman who was adopted as an infant in the late 1960s.

This post can be found in its original form at Soul of Adoption on a thread entitled The Picking and Choosing of the Perfect Child. Anifish blogs here.

Adoption today is turning into a swap meet.

I picture this dirty swap meet a place where people go to shop for a child. Different vendors are everywhere, all of them making promises for the perfect setup, the perfect agreement. They specialize in one type of product. Theirs is better then the rest, and they promise to be competitive, but some still believe even though this is a swap meet that "You get what you pay for." Some products are just downright cheap. Depends on the product. And there are many to choose from.

So I see all these shoppers. Some know exactly what they want. There are even some sections that carry slightly used products -- but not many -- and there are not many shoppers in the used section.

There is a section with warning labels. These products have been sitting on the shelf for awhile in the slightly used section because so many people want to buy new. Just when a buyer is ready to make a purchase warning label section, many change their minds to find a more suitable product that fits their lifestyle and personality the best. I mean really we all want the perfect match, don't we?

Then there are the vendors who carry the manufacturer along to help with the purchase. The manufacturers stand by their product and will sell to only certain types of clients. This is a different section then the rest. It has a unique spark. Here the buyers are on display, showing all the bells and whistles they have. The best one gets chosen, with buyers’ lining up to purchase the prize that the manufacturers have produced. These manufacturers hold the product with care and love and really do not ever lose the product--they can check in when they want because it is in the purchase agreement.

For the most part this section is very productive and works in favor of both the manufacturers and the product and the buyer. But there are always those who take advantage of this section.Yet this could be great section.

Then there are the imports. These are usually older models, not usually new, maybe a few months old. These usually do not come with a manual or history of manufacturers, and they come from poorer countries. But the worth is just the same. This section is also very busy.

You have to see how the products are shelved by the vendors.

• by race
• by color
• by sex
• by eye color
• by temperament
• by warning labels and potential side effects
• by age

You get the picture. In the end all these products have the same worth.

The swap meet is busy and prosperous. This item is big, this item is wanted, this item is unique, but they are all essentially the same.

This post is in regards to how adoption makes me feel sometimes. I could have been the one with the warning label on its forehead. "Potential side effects may occur." I might have been one of the items that did not cut it -- no buyer wanted to take a chance with the side effects. I could have been one of the items that ended up never going home with a buyer. And with many others I would have stayed on the dusty shelf. Losing my value everyday after that. Eventually I would not even be glanced at. The vendor would eventually move me to the junkyard. And my value and worth would never be looked at again and eventually I would be worthless with the other worthless items. All because someone was not willing to just love me, take a chance that they were the only thing I needed to flourish and grow. All I needed was love.

And I am sorry the old saying about you can't buy love. Well it is true, but people want the perfect love. Can the shoppers unconditionally love a product that comes with no guarantee?

Every one of us is different, unique and you cannot put a price on us. You also cannot pick us out. We are all the same, a product of unique creation.

It does not matter what section you purchase us from. To us we are all the same. Priceless and beautiful. In our own unique way. I wish I could create a place that was just as unique as we are, a place that honors each of us as individuals. A place where we are safe from having labels applied to us, where we were not separated by manufacturer or vendor criteria, where the only cost in obtaining us was the pain of our loss to our creator. Which can never be repaid.

That place will never come to be when the buyers are wanting that certain one. There will be a lot of precious items with warning labels sitting on the shelves. In this world they are not looked upon as equal in value.

HUMAN VALUE, THE KIND YOU CAN NOT BUY.

Many adoptive parents have used the “chosen child” concept with their child, the idea that the child was chosen either for them or by them. Anifish’s perspective challenges me to see this explanation through adopted eyes.

The image of sitting on a shelf and waiting to be chosen is haunting to me. Waiting for your flaws to be exposed. Waiting to see if you measure up. Waiting to see if you'll be accepted or rejected. This is an idea I don’t want to plant in my children.

Much as I hate to admit it, Anifish’s viewpoint makes sense to me. We DID a lot of research about our adoption path. We DID worry about what fate would bring us (as we would have with pregnancy, but this is a nuance lost on a child). There WERE certain criteria we didn’t want to face making a decision about.

I can rationalize and explain everything with a grown up mind, but the same situation looks very different from an adopted child’s mind.

I am grateful to Anifish for letting me see. Through her eyes.

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Triad Viewpoints: Adoptees

Periodically, I will bring to this space various perspectives on adoption.

How many people are there -- do you think -- who were adopted, who have adopted a child, who have relinquished a child, or who know someone who has experienced any of the three?

Well, that's how many viewpoints there are on adoption.

This starts a series (I use the term loosely, because related posts may or may not be contiguous. I, after all, am the master of this universe) on viewpoints of adoptees I either know in real life, online, or other in some anecdotal way.

I'll also post some viewpoints of other parts of the triad later on.

Feel free to chime in -- respectfully.