I should be cleaning
Dec 3, 2004 Adoption
But I’ve been wanting to write about this week’s adoption angst for the past few days and Madison is down for an early nap. The dusting will have to wait. (As will the laundry, the sweeping, the cookie-baking — but I digress.)
Over at Infertile Me the anti-adoption zealots continue to harass her for being 1) an adopted person who is not unhappy that she was adopted; and 2) an infertile person who is considering adoption. (This isn’t the only post they’ve targeted.) I’ve visited the anti-adoption sites before (as my archives will attest) but I hadn’t since Madison arrived and it hit me at a particularly weird time adoption-wise. I can’t get into the specific event that made me start feeling squirrely — just know that it’s mostly all in my head and not an actual event at all. But this isn’t my typical mindset. No, it’s one that comes out of hiding when poked with emotional sticks.
The more that I fall in love with Madison and the more cemented she becomes in our lives, the more vulnerable I feel in our adoption. My feelings of loving desperation were similar with Noah but there was nothing on which to hang my neurotic hat. Loving a child is, for me, bittersweet. If we raise them well, they leave us. And their lives are ultimately their own to live well or to waste. We do our best then let them go and we can only hope hope hope that we have given them whatever it is their little hearts and bodies needed but it’s impossible to plan for every contingency. I look at my children and wish I could throw my body down in front of whatever bad thing will be theirs to contend with someday. But in Noah, I trusted that his beginnings while physically traumatic (he had a rough birth), were spiritually whole.
With Madison, my particular sorrowful focus is on those 72 hours in the hospital because — say it with me now, we’ve heard it a zillion times before — adoption is predicated on loss. I wish her life had begun in a riot of unequivocal joy. Instead I think of the yawning chasm of grief that was her first introduction to our planet and I feel so afraid.
Our version of the lurking “under toad” that haunted the Garp family is that the adoption has scarred her forever and that she will spend the rest of her life trying to make up for it.
I don’t really think that this is true because I believe that Madison — god willing — is more resilient than that. I believe that her adoption marked her but that whether or not it marked her in a negative way will ultimately be of her choosing. I imagine that there will be times when she will grieve and perhaps even allow her grief to engulf her (adolescence) but I also think that she will find a way to incorporate her adoption in much the same way that I’ve learned to incorporate my infertility. In other words, to find the beauty that is the consequence of loss.
Reading the anti-adoption sites is heartbreaking because underneath the screaming tirades is a world of pain. Their fury — those who rail against “adopters” and “infertiles” — is like a heavy, ugly dividing wall, which makes dialogue impossible. There’s no logic there, no ability to see past their own situations and recognize that other people have a right to experiences that may be very different.
Myself, I have a hard time learning to balance my strong belief that birth ties are meaningful for us — adopted or not — with my conviction that this does not have to negate our family ties through adoption. I hear myself getting stuck in an either/or kind of thinking.
“Adopted children often yearn for their birth ties when they create their own families,” I think. “What if I’m not welcome after Madison has her first baby? I’ll want to be there and maybe she’ll only want J.”
(Never mind that it’s a bad habit to worry about things that — god willing — won’t be an issue for decades; I’m a professional worrier about things in the way off future.)
But it’s far more likely that she will want J for what J can give her (stories of J’s pregnancy with her to compare with her own) and she’ll want me for what I can give her (stories of Madison herself as a baby). Whatever the anti-adopters might say, it’s not a competition unless the grown-ups in her life turn it into one.
Sometimes, at my lowest moments, I feel inadequate to the task of loving her enough. I want to not only fill up any empty spaces caused by her adoption but also to “win” a non-existent contest. In those times of insecurity, I don’t want to share her. I want to pretend that it’s all ok and that I will always be the only mother that she needs. When I read the anti-adoption sites, those are the ugly feelings that overtake me. Or when I find a second-hand book that’s all about a woman’s search for her real parents. My mom, who loves me and wants to save me from pain just like I want to protect my own kids, would say not to read ‘em. But I have to read them. Not always and not even that often, but enough that I remember that adoption is complex.
I believe that openness — or at the very least, the opportunity for openness — can help Madison (and J) avoid some of this angst. But this is not a perfect system. I recognize that Madison’s yearning for connection, which will surely come, does not have to come at my expense. She can love both of us. She can love us both for different reasons. It’s not my job to fill up those empty spaces or to be so great that she never needs J; it’s my job to love and mother both my kids. I don’t have to believe in the under toad because under toads are like fairies — they get stronger when we start clapping our hands and chanting about how real they are.
Adoption — like all of life — is complex and full of paradox. I try to remind myself that the best I can do is stand in place and let it wash over me. There is our beautiful daughter, standing in a halo of trust and love and there are her parents — by birth and adoption — who adore her in the best way that we know how. I hope that we are all doing right by her.
December 3rd, 2004 at 10:52 am
This week I have been asking myself a lot of the same questions this week. Adoption angst is in the air, I think.
I keep thinking, do I have the right to make these decisions for a child who has no say in the matter? What if it is the wrong decision for him/her? Maybe my choices are selfish and maybe my child will resent me/our family for the choices we are making.
I keep going around and around about it, but there doesn’t really seem to be an answer. Despite my doubts, not adopting doesn’t feel right either. I honestly feel like I am meant to adopt. But I am already hurting for our future kid and his/her losses (birthparents, country, culture). No easy answers to this problem, I suspect. Be gentle with yourself.
December 3rd, 2004 at 11:12 am
Dawn,
I really used to ponder all this, for one thing I had fewer children and more time. But overwhelmingly, I see little negative in my daughter’s adoption. Her birthmom tells me the same thing. While the act of placing a child, or being placed does begin in loss, I think less so in open adoption. Mallory didn’t lose N, neither did she lose Mallory. They gained us, which gave them a different relationship and a new beginning. The only time Mallory expressed regret about her adoption is in regards to siblings - when she was 8 she said she wished she hadn’t been adopted, because then she would be an only child. Shortly afterward we moved to a new house and her own room changed that I think.
My son’s adoption is different. His birthmom tried to raise him but kept falling deeper into her own demons. I am sure its a real loss to her. Her consent was taken from her for the safety of this boy. I am sure she feels bitter, although now she tells me she knows this is best. I sometimes think she is trying to convince herself of that still. Its very painful. My son will not have much of relationship with her until he is an adult. She sees him a couple of times a year and we send pictures and letters. I still haven’t figured out his adoption story for these early years. I am hoping the fact that Mallory is adopted will help normalize it for him.
I have confindence in my relationship with both my children. I think I am just as likely to be a part of their adult life as I am in the life of my bio daughters. They may all reject me for some reason I can’t see now, but I doubt it will be because of adoption. It took me a long time to feel this secure. It helped that my daughter is 13 and more and more like a young woman, I know her as a person now, not just a child. She loves me and sees me as her mom. I see no reason that will change.
I am sorry for the people that have had a negative experience with adoption. I hope there is some way they will begin to heal their lives. I wish they would realize that harassing people out of anger does nothing to ease their pain.
December 3rd, 2004 at 11:56 am
I feel weird commenting on this subject because I’m just an outsider looking in.
Would it help to know when it comes to those feelings of not wanting to share are the exact moments I wish I could erase myself completely?
December 3rd, 2004 at 1:08 pm
Your love and concern and thoughtfulness and respect for your child’s feelings and needs is awe inspiring. Thank you for such a beautiful post.
December 3rd, 2004 at 1:48 pm
I don’t understand why so many people think it has to be one or the other. Adoption, like anything else, is so not a black-and-white issue. I’m sure our kids will have pain and angst and things to deal with — but who doesn’t, for one reason or another? Odds are, when they start slamming doors and yelling that they hate us, it will be for something entirely unrelated to the fact that we aren’t technically related by blood. I know that’s the case for my stepson, who at 11.5 is getting more adolescent-y and angst-y by the millisecond. He yells and gets upset and stomps and slams, but never once has any of it had anything to do with “you’re not my real mother!” For what’s it’s worth.
December 3rd, 2004 at 2:13 pm
Everyone has sort of said it, but I’ll say it in my own words.
Why is the loss associated with adoption bigger or more significant or impossible to surmount than all the myriad losses in life? I have had numerous heartbreaking losses and each of them has given me stronger faith, deeper self-confidence and more finely tuned empathy and compassion for others. I am greatful for them.
The mystery to me has always been why some people become embittered and defensive and sometimes abusive in response to their suffering and some people grow to admirable, even enviable, spiritual heights and depths.
What are the factors that send one person in one direction and one person in another? To the extent that one factor might be unconditional love, acceptance, grace and care from parents, I think Madison is on a sure path to lifelong happiness and spiritual wisdom.
December 3rd, 2004 at 2:28 pm
Dawn,
Not being an adoptive mother, I obviously cannot comment adequately. But I wanted to throw out a couple of thoughts anyway. With my two children, I find that the way they deal with things has a lot more to do with their personality than with the reality of their situation. I have a child with a severe heart defect. Yet she is so easy going that I am much less worried about how she will handle this in the future, than I am worried about her 5-year old sister who has a more pessimistic outlook on life. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you probably have a lot less control over how Madison will handle her adoption in the future. This is scary, but I think it can also be liberating in that it frees you to be the best mom to her you can. And from what I’ve read on your blog, you’re doing an awesome job!
December 3rd, 2004 at 3:06 pm
your anst is not much different from mine as a birth parent really.
i worry that Kenzie will want her step-mother instead of me as a teenager. i worry just as much that Kenzie will turn to no one as a teenager because she’s been OVER parented with so many.
it is because we love them and want the best while still receiving the best that as parents (adopted or birth or current or past) we worry over our children and what will be and what will not.
its so easy to be concerned about things we can not control… when in reality, we should enjoy what we have. i think that is called human nature.
Thanks for the great post.
- Dana
December 3rd, 2004 at 3:24 pm
Dana are you a birth parent or a biological parent?
And yes, I totally agree, my mother had much of the same concerns of who I would turn to a key points at my life (my mother or my step-mother)
December 3rd, 2004 at 3:26 pm
and let’s not negate the joy that WAS felt when madison came into the world, even if it was coupled with grief and angst. i know that when jonathan was born, despite knowing that i would only be his only mother for two days, i was still filled with joy and excitement and wonder - he was still amazing and very much loved for every single moment.
December 3rd, 2004 at 4:13 pm
My heart is in my throat. I have 4 children, adopted thru the state. two different birth mothers 3 different fathers, (2 are twins). These children were all in the “system” while BM was giving 2 years of chances to recieve the help that was available FREE! They were passed around to different foster homes, all better then what they came out of, but the scars on their bodies will never match those on their hearts. one of my boys DS6 could not believe he could to take a bath twice in 2 days! My eldest lived 2 years in a closet! The dogs his BM had slept on her bed! One of my girls had to be life flighted due to kidneys shutting down, from Rota virus! From eating her own crap! My DH and I had to jump thru hoops to get these children! I have the pictures when they were taken from the BM. No picture I have ever seen from the starving children of Ethiopia can match the haunted look in these childrens eyes. That look is gone! It is no secret they are adopted. We are the international house of children. But I am mom, and DH is Dad! We are family! Growl…Thank you for letting me rant…my mantra for the day…Stay away from Anti-Adoption sites…Stay away from Anti-Adoption sites…Stay away from Anti-Adoption sites…
December 3rd, 2004 at 4:44 pm
You know, until I read this blog entry… and then read the thread at Infertile Me, I had no idea that this “subculture” of anti-adoption even existed.
I have heard and understand the argument against interracial adoption.
But a group that despises the concept of adoption altogether?
I can only imagine that the average member of this group would be pro-abortion (hey have an abortion instead of giving your child up for adoption).
I wonder if these anti-adoption zealots realize that their venom and logic make about as much sense as the extremist anti-abortionist. To me, at least.
It is so foreign and strange a position to me that they might as well be arguing that the sky is the ground and the ground, the sky.
December 3rd, 2004 at 6:38 pm
I went through infertility for five years, and did lots of research, and also had never heard of the anti-adoption sites. I agree with the last post. There is a lunatic fringe element to these sites, and just as I stay away from the political sites that rant and rave about positions that I think are completely untenable, you might feel so much more sane and whole if you not let these people rock your world. You wouldn’t invite them to your house, or talk to them on the phone, or even on the street. They’re just way way out there, and have no clue what they’re talking about.
You’re giving your children all the love and guidance you know how, just like the rest of us. And in the end, at the very least, your kids are going to know that. All the best…
December 3rd, 2004 at 7:25 pm
Okay, I musy be ignorant here, I had no idea that there were anti-adoption websites - or people, for that matter. This seems so strange and…how is it their buriness anyway? to me.
What do they suggest to do with all of the children around the world who are in orphanages?
Ugh. Nevermind. This is just baffling to me that people would actually devote time to such a “cause”.
December 3rd, 2004 at 11:16 pm
I am glad I will never understand what it is that gives some people the need to hate. I think they must be so unhappy in their own lives. I try to pity them and not to give them what they want. Don’t let their ridiculous words take one second of happiness from you or your family.
December 4th, 2004 at 4:01 pm
Thank you for such an insightful post.
While we move toward adoption, this has become the time that my dh has had to confront his own adoption demons. He has a few, (A big one is a worry that people will stop caring for him if he is “bad”) but not the “gaping center of loss” that people have said he was supposed to feel.
He actually left a therapist when the therapist insisted that he had to be feeling some loss, and he just said, “No. I have my parents. I have curiousity, but not loss.” The therapist dismissed his feelings and we dismissed the therapist.
People are different. An event that can be the reason that one person is a total shmuck is the same event that makes a person an outstanding and giving person.
But keep writing…when you’re not chasing Madison!
December 19th, 2004 at 1:03 pm
I read this post with great interest.
I am adopted. I was adopted as an infant, and even though I spent six weeks in foster care– six weeks that nobody can remember for me– I don’t view that as a gap. I view it occasionally with curiosity– but I think your fears about your daughter’s 72 hours in the hospital, although understandable, will not come back to haunt you. My biological son spent the first ten days of his life in a NICU– and this has not had any kinds of lasting effects on him.
I have not sought out my birth parents. I was adopted in a closed adoption– and if I could find my birth mother one time and say, “Thank you for giving me my life, and thank you for letting me go,” I would– but I do not seek a more lasting relationship with her. If it had happened more naturally, like through the open adoption you have, then that would be different. What a gift you and J have given Madison! And I truly do not think you will ever face that she will choose between you– you are her mother. My mother is the woman who raised me, whose cool hands rubbed my back at night, who adored me daily, whose physical memories of hairspray and lanolin lotion are my first memories of love. J did something very important, and it is a gift that Madison will always know the circumstances of her birth and adoption– there really aren’t any gaps of knowledge there– but don’t ever feel that she will not think of YOU as her mother.
And sure, she will say hateful things to you someday– and they might cut deeper because she is adopted. But she will not feel them more deeply because she is adopted. At least, I did not. My mother is the only mother I can imagine. And she is the only mother I want. And I do not seek out my birth mother because even though my mother would move heaven and earth to assist me if I wanted to do that, it would hurt her so deeply, that I won’t do it.
I don’t know you or your daughter, and I cannot predict the future– but I thought you might appreciate the perspectives of an adult who was adopted as an infant and had a wonderful wonderful experience– and no identity gaps outside of what everyone experiences, I think.
You are her mother. And she knows it. And she will always know it.