This is a very rambling entry but it can’t be helped. Beloved SusieBook got some not so great news the other day. She’s been reaching out to her son’s mom to see if maybe they could push to a deeper place in their relationship with each other. For SusieBook, this would mean being able to express some of the downsides of being a first parent in even a swell open adoption. The response wasn’t what she was hoping for:
After blogging about it and talking to my therapist, I decided to go ahead and ask Ruth about whether I could talk more with her about the harder parts of adoption—her answer is that I can, but she’s not sure that it’s appropriate, and she doesn’t actually want to hear it. Her email was polite and respectful, and the undertone of “I guess I can’t stop you, but—” may only exist in my reading of it. I feel sort of crushed, and am pulling back.
SusieBook is eminently reasonable and so she’s taken the response on herself, “I mostly feel stupid—I feel like I’m being punished for being stupid.” That makes me sad. It’s never stupid to take a risk and SusieBook, I think you should be proud of yourself for reaching out.
I asked Pennie about this on Saturday because we were eating (no, we were gorging ourselves!) on some amazing homemade candy that SusieBook sent! (I meant to save it to bring to Pennie’s but Pennie came over and we just wanted a taste and that turned into eating it all because it was too good to leave alone and ohmigod, it was truly the best candy ever although I can’t decide if my favorite is the peanut brittle or the chocolate-covered toffee or maybe the turtles. Oh lord. Wish there was more to go upstairs and eat up right now!)
ANYWAY. Pennie was here and between mouthfuls of chocolate covered orange peels, we discussed this. Pennie said, and I quote, “Well, isn’t that your JOB?” Meaning isn’t it my job to listen? And I’d say yes, it IS my job but I’m willing to think that maybe it’s not every adoptive parents’ job because I’m working on stepping outside of my expectations and imagine what it must be like to be someone else.
I have to say that in our open adoption, listening to Pennie when things are sucky has been good for me and by extension good for our open adoption and by extension good for Madison. But then I had to think about WHY that was and it helped me understand that for another family, that could be a boundary pushed too far. Because I can imagine that if an adoptive parent was consumed by guilt (versus healthy feelings of responsibility) that this would or could get in the way of that parent’s relationship with the child in question and certainly no parent — by birth or by adoption — wants the child to get short shrift as the parents struggle to work things out.
So boundaries are important and they are different for everyone and certainly there’s a big difference between SusieBook’s reasonableness (read her blog and you’ll see) and Pennie’s reasonableness, (which you will just have to take my word for) and another first parent whose struggle is more all-consuming within the relationship. Which is to say that it is not the sum of our relationship that Pennie cries and I listen and if it was the sum, well, I don’t know how we’d handle it.
Basically there are, of course, two players in the relationship between a first parent and an adoptive parent and if either of those players can’t handle the situation, it’s going to be a bad situation and I don’t argue we ought to make any hard and fast rules about what our job as adoptive parents ought to be.
I will, however, wander into wondering and talk more about my particular situation and our particular relationship (as I see it).
Yes, I do think it’s my job to listen to Pennie when she is unhappy about adoption. Why? Because:
1. I’m her friend.
2. I’m her daughter’s adoptive mother and am rather intimately involved in her relationship with adoption.
3. I’m her daughter’s mother and being able to talk to Madison about how much Pennie loves and misses her is an important piece of my parenting.
4. As her daughter’s mother I’m also in the unique position of sometimes being the person who hurts her and if I’m hurting her, I want her to tell me so I can stop.
It is, of course, never easy to hear that Pennie is sad but it is an honor to have her confide in me. When she tells me how she’s feeling I get a better sense of what’s going on and so I feel like I can make better, more supportive decisions (that’s #4 there). I also feel more relaxed — ironically — because I know that I can trust her to tell me if I make a mistake or hurt her feelings so I am able to worry less about both of these things.
(There are many times Pennie has called me out for being stupid but one of the first was when Madison was brand new and I said something about, “Someday when you’re a parent” and she stopped me cold and said, “I am a parent.” And this, my friends, is a good example of Pennie’s frankness and yes, I still blush when I think of my blunder.)
This is all making me think about how much value there is in open adoption blogs and forums because I really think we adoptive parents need a broader sense of what it is to be in an open adoption as a first parent and also learn from other adoptive parents who may make choices or be working from a place that is unfamiliar to us. Because I wish I could talk to Ruth (SusieBook’s son’s mom) about it some and maybe be HER support while she supports SusieBook in working through her feelings. I just think, you know, it’s easier when we have friends who know what’s going on and can shore us up so that we’re not left alone. Because, like I said, I think that listening to Pennie’s sometimes negative experiences has been good for us but it’s not easy and having friends/family who can help ME process as Pennie processes is just huge.
We all hold each other up, you know?
But what’s been your experience?
Related posts:
I think I’d say that it’s an adoptive parent’s job to listen but not always to be the primary support/de facto therapist. Maybe that would work in some relationships, but it would sure feel like an unhealthy dynamic in ours. Anyone can be a good listener, but it’s too much to expect that every adoptive parent be able to act as a full-fledged counselor, especially for an open adoption they’re a part of. Beth has been very open with us about some of the hard stuff, but I know there are other people in her life listening and supporting her. That makes a big difference for me.
And like in any relationships, I think there is a difference between sharing vulnerably in an effort to build intimacy, and using your hurts to wound or manipulate the other party. One of the kids’ first parents sometimes “shares” in an effort to hurt us or make us feel guilty. And it’s negatively affected our relationship. We’re more guarded with them.
(Just speaking generally, none of this is directed at Susie, who is awesome.)
I do wonder if there is a connection between being able/willing to hear difficult adoption-related things from your kid’s first parent and later being able to process them with your child. Can you be open to one and not the other? For me, the two have definitely been connected, but perhaps that is not true for others.
I’ll stop rambling because I’m not sure what my point is here. But I was thinking about this very thing last night before I read Susie’s post and this one, so it’s on my mind.
I left Susie a comment too, but this is such a big issue and you’ve written about it beautifully. A relationship can only work as well as the people in it let it work, I suppose. I always get so worried and upset when I see adoptive parents online having one uncomfortable experience and scaring themselves into making the adoption more closed rather than pushing themselves farther or working on boundaries that could work for everyone.
I know I’m writing a lot lately about my partner’s relationship with her birthmom, but it’s a big topic of discussion at our home and it’s been on my mind. Lee had always hung onto a memory of her birthmother’s saying, “What’s that on your face?” and pointing to her birthmark (as she recalls it) as a sign that her birthmother had never paid attention to her or cared. But they never discussed this and her birthmother didn’t know she’d been gnawing on that memory for 35 years. And so many of the hard history between the two of them seems to be a result of conversations they won’t let themselves have, in Lee’s case because being positive toward her birthmom felt disloyal to her adoptive parents and in her birthmom’s case I think similarly because she didn’t want to complicate Lee’s positive view of her adoption. And so they were both trying to hold onto a status quo that didn’t end up helping either of them. Now that some of the unpleasant bits are out on the table, I could tell that Lee felt unconflicted saying “I love you” in her phone call the other night, and that’s huge.
I’m not sure I’m making a point either, but being able to deal with unpleasant stuff should be a prerequisite of parenting of any kind. I mean, you may be floored by something at first, but you figure out how to move on in the way that’s best for your kid. Adoptive parents especially need to understand that this may be true about how they address adoption. There aren’t always easy answers, but you wouldn’t want to teach your child that the world is full of easy resolutions anyway, right?
I’ve never felt comfortable sharing the hard stuff. It seems like every time I get to the point that I feel like I can and/or want to – I open my mouth then she (my daughters mom) starts talking about how ‘wonderful’ everything is.
It’s like she knows what’s coming.
I’ve heard all about the fertility crap, the heartache, the struggle, the wait – the whole damn story.
If I try to share beyond my canned “I made the best decision I could make at the time based on the information I had” – well, then all hell breaks lose.
Heck, even saying that has taken almost 13 years to say.
I’m the idiot who just smiles and nods.
I’m sorry for Susie. I hope she knows she’s not alone – sadly – she is so not alone.
this is a truly excellent post on such an important issue.
I also agree with heather’s comment above in that I know I am a huge source of support for my daughter’s first mom, and I hope she will always feel able to express herself freely with me, but I also know I cannot be her sole support because she needs somewhere else to discuss our adoption. I always feel better equipped to handle issues as they arise when she confides in me about her feelings though.
it’s unfortunate that other adoptive parents don’t feel it is appropriate to listen in an open adoption. if you don’t listen and learn, how can you ever grow?
thanks as always for your eloquence.
I don’t think I would be very *good* support, so I understand the wariness. I’m not a therapist. I’m not a counselor. Anything I “know” about adoption is tied up in my OWN emotions, yknow? I don’t see it being that helpful for me to be in that role at all. I know I would do the wrong thing and, yes, horribly, probably make it about *my* feelings. I’m not a horrible person; but I am probably a horrible, awful therapist.
I don’t think it’s an adoptive parent’s job, ever. I think there are some relationships that you can healthily deal indepth with a first parent’s grief, but I don’t think it’s a required part of being an adoptive parent.
That said, I think it’s hard to have a full, honest relationship without talking about the elephant in the room. I think how that conversation(s) happens depends on the relationships. It’s much easier for me to talk about it with my daughter’s first family than it is with my son’s.
It was really, really hard when my daughter was an infant and toddler for Bert and I not to want to solve every problem in my daughter’s first parent’s life. It actually was unhealthy for all four of us for awhile. We “parented” them, and they became too dependent on us. We all had to step back and take some time to be equals and fully adult again.
I’m rambling.
I DO think it’s an adoptive parents job to deal with their child’s grief, and deal with it in an honest and constructive way. Not sugarcoat it, and acknowledge there is a flip side to all the joy that adoption brings them.
I think it’s one thing to be a support resource and another all together to have equal footing in communication – often first parents ‘hear the hard stuff’ right away – in the form of a ‘dear birth parent letter’ – about infertility and the struggle etc.
I think if adoptive parents feel comfortable enough to share the hard parts of their journey with their child’s first parents, then they also need to be willing and able to hear the hard stuff about the first parents journey.
This isn’t something I’ve experienced, at all.
Yeah, I’m not advocating being the be all and end all of Pennie’s support experience but I’m talking about her being able to talk about how she’s feeling in an honest way so that we’re all clear with what’s going on with each other. I also get where LisaV was talking about the danger of feeling too responsible because I definitely have to check in w/Brett to see when I’m taking on too much of Pennie’s feeling (to no one’s benefit). There’s a sweet spot that we’re always striving for.
“but I’m talking about her being able to talk about how she’s feeling in an honest way so that we’re all clear with what’s going on with each other.”
this, I can embrace in the context of: any two adults in an authentic relationship have a certain responsibility to offer and accept honesty. It’s the only way those relationships can be healthy and authentic for both parties. However… Is it my “job”? No. emphatically no. It’s not my job to help my daughter’s first mom process her feelings about the adoption. My daughter’s first mom is not — and has never been — entirely well. Her range of issues is wider and deeper than the loss of her children and it is not possible to have a healthy, adult, relationship with her at this point. I have to protect my own emotional boundaries in this case. I cannot subject myself to too much of her emotional dysfunction and baggage — which predated our adoption of two of her children.
I second others making the distinction between our responsibilities to our children to help them process their feelings about their adoption [which is a non-negotiable responsibility, imo] and our responsibilities to our children’s first parents.
Is my daughters’ first mom grieving their adoption? I am sure she is. As I am sure she regrets throwing 2 other children out of the house as teenagers, and losing custody of another to the child’s father. Am I willing to continue sending updates to her and photos — and am I open to the possibility of my daughters having a relationship with her [as was originally intended with the adoption] — yes. is it my job to receive her hurt and anger? no. that is NOT the commitment I made to her when we adopted her children. We committed to parenting them and keeping their well-being as our number 1 priority. We committed to an open adoption so that they would know their siblings and extended family and so that their first mom would be able to be in relationship with them. And the adoption is still very open in terms of the other siblings and extended family. But the emotional issues and needs of my daughters’ first mom can not be allowed to take precious emotional resources that I could be expending on our children and my husband.
Yes, I am responding to this as a First Mom who has gone through her son’s adoption starting out as a fully open adoption, changing to a semi-open adoption and, within five years becoming a closed adoption . . .
First, I do want to say I do have a great respect for every adoptive mom who keeps the adoption open. Who realizes it isn’t always roses and sunshine for their child’s first mom and does not feel threatened by that to the point where they close the adoption (as has happened to many first moms I know who went from open to closed once they dared to express anything other than “happiness” about their child’s adoption.
But, in some parts here, and in other areas discussing open adoption, I hear the reoccuring theme of I have to put a limit on how much of my child’s first mom’s pain I can hear and I have to limit what I hear because it might affect my child.
And that always tends to trigger my emotions because, back when I first lost my oldest son, and all the way in to today, the common thread I do see in many areas of the relationship between p-aparents and pregnant woman is one in which the pregnant mom is made aware, sometimes to extreme, just how deeply the p-parents have hurt, struggled and suffered because of their desire to have children.
It not only seems to be accepted, but also encouraged, to let a pregnant mom know about one’s struggles in being unable to get pregnant, or losing a child or having a cerain number of “failed” adoptions.
A LARGE part of the push in making adoption the “loving” option is to consider all the heart ache and struggles of that couple who so desperately deserves and wants a child of their own but, for whatever reason, can’t and is eagerly awaiting the mom who will give her child at life by “healing” the pain of that couple who has gone through so much, hurts so bad, and suffers so terribly, in their desire to have a child of their own.
And that is where it strikes a sour cord in my emotions when adoptive parents set “boundaries” on how much pain and grief they are “willing” to hear AFTER the papers have been signed and the “open” adoption is now completely up to them and their decisions.
A pregnant woman takes on the emotions, loss and grief of p-aparents in the beginning. Their feelings DO affect the decisions she makes for her unborn child. And some end up giving up their child because they are so aware of the p-aparents feelings that they put them before their own and can’t imagine hurting them even when they don’t want to give up their child.
So, no, I really can’t find sympathy or understanding for those who place limits on how much of the First Mom’s painful feelings they are willing to hear. To those who will close an adoption because it is too “hard” on their child’s first mom.
In my mind, from my experience, you should have to listen and know whatever they might be facing. If for nothing else than the simple fact that one of the most common encouragements given to woman facing unexpected pregnancies is to think of all those couples out there who so havce gone through so much and faced so much heartache and despereately want a child.
They started out hearing about and, many times, caring about your pain and loss and grief. To then decide, after the papers are signed, that you are not willing, equiped or able to hear theirs from the loss they have suffered, to me, seems like one of the most unfair, uncaring stances a person can take.
The simle fact remains, that even in the best of adoptions, First Moms will have those times when their feelings are not the “rosy happiness” that others expect. And if adoptive parents deny them the right to express those feelings when their own played so much into the adoption in the first place, then I just can’t see how they really do respect their child’s frist mom in any way.
Because my adoption situation may be “atypical,” my thoughts on this may be only limitedly applicable in general. My husband and I are not infertile, and never went through a typical adoption process through an agency. In the context of the kind of experience you describe, Cassie — then yes, if the adoptive parents’ emotional needs were part of the “equation” in the early days of the relationship — then it is only FAIR that the first parents’ emotional needs and experiences are part of the equation all parties in the relationship need to deal with AFTER the adoption. That seems equitable and appropriate. Our experience as adoptive parents was very different, however. From the beginning our relationship with our daughters’ first mom was always about her needs, fears, wishes. We sublimated our own desires [and, in retrospect even our sense of what was truly in our daughters' best interest] in order to be scrupulously fair and non-coercive in our relationship with our daughters’ first mom. so, my take in the question Dawn asked, is entirely framed by my own personal, and very limited experience of adoption.
We can all only answer in the frame of our experience, which is why I asked. I also wanted to underline that Pennie’s “job” quote could definitely look wrong out of context (and I think that it reads wrong even in this context). I read it as her saying, well, yeah, that’s what we do here. But I do think it’s important that we adoptive parents separate what we need to do from what we THINK we need to do, which isn’t always easy and those of us who have help (from other folks like here, you people who comment on my blog and bless me with your experience) are fortunate to have it.
Ibex,
I understand the different experiences we all come to the table with. That is why I started by stating that I was coming from my own experience with my place in this adoption journey.
I hope you did not feel as if I was singling you out in my reponse, as that was not my intention.
I have learned, not always so easily, and often with a great amount of stubborness, that adoption isn’t completely black and white and that there are situations, such as yours, that don’t fit the “mold” we tend to perceive from all sides.
But I have also learned, unfortunately, that there are many situations that do exist that, in some way or another, mirror my own, and it is those situations that I speak of from my experience.
I am one of those First Mom’s who did shoulder all the grief and loss my son’s adoptive mother felt in her desire to be a mother. I knew of her inability to have children of her own. In her greatest wish to be a mother, and even knew, during the time I was in labor with my son that her doctor had instructed her to have a hysterectomy and that she was refusing to do so until she held my son (her son) in her arms.
And I do know, though not exactly a mirror of my own, there are many out there who have gone through the same emotional pull from the couple hoping to adopt their child.
And that is where my comment was directed. At those situations where the First Mom was told about the adoptive parent’s struggles and problems and grief in their desire to have a child (which I do believe is a completely natural desire and is not wrong in and of itself) and the affects those emotions can have on a mother looking into adoption.
In that area I do not, and can not see respect when there is then a complaint of what a First Mom might or might not share of her own loss after the couple has adopted her (their) child because in my mind that is equal to saying, consider us and our loss and grief and pain but don’t expect us to hear yours after you have given up your child and are now the one left with suffering through your own loss and grief and pain.
The fact remains, for the majority of First Moms out there, no matter the reasons behind giving up their child, there is loss and grief. There is sadness and pain. And, coming from a Frist Mom’s side, when you hear adoptive parents say they can’t or don’t want to hear about it, it does hit hard and deep because they are, in affect, the ones gaining while the First Mom suffers.
Cassie-
I did not feel singled out at all. I was trying to say that – in cases like you describe – I agree with you. I only wanted to say, that my case was different however, so my response to Dawn’s question was different. Though I can totally understand why the answer is different in your case, and in situations where you describe. Sorry if I made it sound like I was disagreeing with you in any way.
Dawn:
I’m sorry if I went off on a tangent. I experience this in my own OA. My daughters mother has dealt with some pretty heavy emotional stuff and has really more or less expected me to be her ‘support resource’ during this time. This isn’t something I have a problem with…I am more than willing to be her rock, if she needs it. However, I’d like to see that same respect afforded to me.
I guess, this is something personal for me right now as well. It’s basically ‘closed the door’ for us – because all she ever talks about is her troubles and I am expected to be this supportive and helpful person – but she doesn’t repay the favor when I am having an especially hard time.
The best times are when she complains about mothering our daughter…love those. Love those so much I wish I could eat a hand full of freakin razor blades.
Brandy, there is a terrible irony that you’re apologizing for venting on a blog post by an adoptive parent that’s about whether first parents have the right to share their venting with their kids’ other parents. In other words, NO APOLOGIES NECESSARY!!! Because here you can vent!!!!
Brandy – as an adoptive mom this BLOWS my mind. Not in a good way. I cannot believe you have to deal with this. I had to read and re-read your comments several times because I could not get my head around the fact that it was your daughters’ *adoptive* mom who was laying her emotional burden on you and expecting *you* to carry it. that completely sucks on so many levels. I am so sorry you have to deal with that. so, so sorry.
Thank you Ibex, it does suck – some times more than others.
I used to get almost daily emails – daily – and it was so exhausting. I finally worked up the guts to ask her to please stop and she hasn’t really emailed me since – it’s been almost a year? She’s emailed a few times – but nothing really like it used to be years ago – when we used to have ‘conversations’.
She has mental health issues – she’s not healthy – it complicates matters a lot.
Our “OA Relationship” stopped being about adoption a long time ago…in fact, now that our daughter is a young teen (13) I just talk with her directly (via Facebook, on her wall, where everyone can read, I’m not sneaky) if I want to know how she’s doing.
There is a whole entire long long story to go with all of this…it’s complicated
Dawn, I’m all misty-eyed–thanks for this. I (of course) love your position on this issue. Thought I’d clarify a couple of things about my situation after reading these comments: I said in that email that I’m not looking for a mom or a therapist–I have these things; I was also asking Ruth if she wanted to talk more about things that are hard for her, which she has done a couple of times in the past; and I never planned to tell her things like “Sometimes I regret the adoption.”
I’m glad you liked the candy!
LIKE the candy is not adequate to how we feel about the candy. It’s a little bit inappropriate, how we feel about the candy. AND the candy is already GONE.
Aaah! Knew I should have sent more! Why can’t you still live around here and be on my regular baking victim list??
Susie, I am the same – I’d never say “I regret the adoption” but I’d like to be able to say “I regret being in the position that required me to even have to think about adoption” and I think that’s a valid point. I do regret being in that position – but I don’t regret her (my daughter) or the adoption.
I think it’s often easy to look back with the benefit of hindsight and say “Oh, see, if I’d just X then Y would have happened” and I can’t say, with any honesty, that Y would have happened, because I have no idea if X would have ever happened – how do I know X didn’t happen because I made the decision to place?
You just don’t know.
I think, for me, I just wish I had the freedom to talk freely and openly without worrying about hurting someone else with my words that aren’t intended to hurt.
I wish I could say something like, “Man, Christmas sure does bring up a lot of emotion for me. I still get this strange feeling live I’ve driven off from the parking lot at the market with my handbag on the roof – like something is just missing”
Because that is how I feel at Christmas and damnit, there is nothing wrong with me feeling that way. Her knowing I feel that way helps her understand why I don’t ‘celebrate’ the holidays like some people…something she got to experience first hand last year when she came for an unexpected (and uninvited) visit while our daughter was with her dad over Christmas….
These are real, genuine emotions I feel and I think she’d gain some valuable insight into my inner-workings if she’d allow me to share some of them with her.
I am guessing it similar for you, no?
Yeah, I wanted to be able to talk about things that are past, or current-but-not-scary; I was still trying to figure out what would be most appropriate, but certainly I wouldn’t want to hurt her. The upside of my crappy news, I guess, is that I’m taking less of a chance that I will hurt or upset Ruth. One difference, though, is that I do sometimes regret the adoption–I just don’t have any desire to share that with my son’s parents.
My first thoughts after reading:
If a first mom’s pain was the portal through which I became a mother, and I wouldn’t be one otherwise, the facets of that pain might be too scary for me to explore much. I would hope I wouldn’t deny its reality, but I probably wouldn’t want to dwell in it or be reintroduced to it as it grows and changes over time, either.
But…I was never infertile, and was already a mom x3 when I adopted. Hearing about the hard parts might be scary, but they aren’t the foundation of my motherhood–they are more a feature of someone else’s. So maybe that would feel safer?
That was my initial reaction–but then I reflected on it and knew that if my son’s adoption became open tomorrow, I might well respond with a “no” to an inquiry like Susie’s.
Not (at all) because I refuse to acknowledge her loss, but because I’m afraid specific bits might linger, and attach pain too specifically to parts of my daily life, too.
Let’s say she tells me she has collected all her favorite Disney movies for him, and she feels sad every time she watches them without him. Then I will feel sad every time I watch a movie with him, because I know his mom is still sad that she isn’t. Who is that helping? Surely the first mom doesn’t intend to have that effect, but knowing that specific pain of hers, I can’t just *not* feel it. If she hands it to me, I’ll have to carry it.
Or maybe she tells me she placed him during a period of financial terror that turned out to be temporary, and now that her work life is stable, she is sad that she created a permanent loss because of what turned out to be a temporary problem. Well, how in good conscience could I keep him–and explain that to him later in life? He’s not a prize with a deadline for entries–he is her son!Am I going to take advantage of her months of fear, and just say “ah, too bad you took too long to figure that out, hard cheese for you”?
I get that Susie doesn’t want to tell Ruth that she sometimes regrets the adoption. But as an adoptive mom, I think that is where our minds go anyway, and it’s really heavy to consider. Regretting the circumstances that led to adoption is one thing; regretting, today, that the child is adopted, is another. Maybe Ruth feels that, and suspects, that she couldn’t bear it. And really, who could?
The very respect for the connection between first mom and baby that would lead to an adoptive parent wanting an open adoption in the first place, would make that adoptive parent feel crummy if they thought they were selfishly benefiting from the adoption.
I’m coming from a very different perspective, being a mother whose son grew up in a closed adoption years ago. From the outside, it seems to me that it is unrealistic and maybe in some cases unhealthy for the surrendering mother to rely on the adoptive mother as a confidant about adoption pain, or much of anything else. Visa versa also.
I suspect every open adoption is different, like any other relationship of that sort, something like inlaws who may or may not be close but try to get along for the benefit of the child. One size does not fit all.
A Mom who gave up a child needs a support system and friends she can pour out her heart and bitch to, but in most cases I don’t see this as being the adoptive mom. There is something about that that strikes me wrong.
Both mothers need to work together for the good of the child, but I can’t see the birth mother having to hear what a brat and trial her kid is, nor the adoptive mother having to hear about the birthmother’s regrets and pain. Maybe it can work in rare cases, but in general I think both need boundaries that have to be respected. In most cases your child’s other mother can’t be your best friend and therapist and should not be expected to be so.
I was leaving her a comment as you were writing the post. Sugarcoating can be dangerous, that’s what my life is saying now.
[...] was one comment over on Dawn’s post about my little problem that really got me where it hurts—Mia says that she might very well say [...]
Our situation is a bit different in that we adopted from foster care after TPR and there was no open adoption agreement.
However, I’d gotten to know the mom while we were pre-adoptive foster parents and I privately arranged with her to maintain contact.
I made mistakes in doing so- not in maintaining contact- but in trying to help the mom. In hindsight, I was trying to parent her too. I started with pretty open contact. I kept a journal about our little one and shared it with her. We had almost monthly visits. We emailed regularly (at least weekly).
My end was pretty focused on how our daughter was doing and being supportive of the mom (I think- I’m sure the mom’s perspective is different). I also spent a lot of time reassuring her that I would keep her a part of our daughter’s life.
I heard a lot about her hard times. And I was (I think) sympathetic. She also had two subsequent children, one of whom was placed in foster care, but of whom she later regained custody, and one whom she has parented all along. I encouraged her in parenting those children.
But then, she decided she was “better” of the situation that caused her to lose custody in the first place and asked for her daughter back. She told me- during a visit, in front of our little one- that I was a paid interim caretaker who was only doing this for profit. She explained I didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. (I lost a child myself- albeit not to adoption- which she knows, although I haven’t discussed it in detail with her.)
It’s been about a year since that conversation.
I waited a few weeks, and then wrote her a lengthy letter. I explained that I found her behavior (having that conversation in that place with that audience) to be inappropriate and that I was quite upset with the content of what she said as well. I reiterated that I was going to keep my promise of contact, but that I was putting very clear limits on it until I felt that I could trust her again.
I’ve set two visits a year with letters on the other quarters. I’ve cut off most email.
And I feel guilty. I know what she did was inappropriate, but I also have a fair amount of sympathy for what provoked it.
A lot of my concern is- and remains- that she felt it appropriate to have this conversation in front of our little one.
We’ve had one visit and one packet sent since. The second visit is pending in about a month.
The mom has said that she now feels she can’t be honest with me because I reacted putatively when she was. She also threatened to take me to court to enforce visitation after receiving my letter. Obviously she can’t as there was no legal agreement and besides which I am still allowing visits- just not nearly as many- but that threat just reiterated my concern that she doesn’t understand the legal permanence of adoption.
I’m really not certain what to do from here. I was (to some degree am) very angry with her- it felt like she betrayed me after I’d put so much effort into reaching out to her. So I’m trying to figure out if I reduced contact out of a focus on the needs of our little one (as I would hope) or because I’m upset at her myself.
I don’t think either of us are fully in the right, and it’s not fair that I am the only one with the power to make decisions, but I am sure that have clearer boundaries is important. I think she was wrong to say what she said (and how and where she said it) but I also think I’d gone to far in providing access to me and trying to “fix?” her and thus letting her think it would be okay to talk to me as if I was her key support or therapist.
And- by the by- it was because of blogs like this that I even thought to fight to maintain contact in the first place- and despite the difficult times, I think that in the long run that connection will prove invaluable and irreplaceable for our little one. So thanks.
Oh god, Jo, that sounds just so difficult. Yes, her comment was inappropriate in front of your daughter.
When it comes to long-term relationships, we have to give each other space to figure it out and I can see how you would need to pull away and get your bearings again. It’s hard to build a healthy relationship when only one side is really on-track (whether that person is on the birth or the adoption side) and you’re not the only family struggling to figure that out.
I think if I ever get my counseling degree that I’d really like to put some work into helping people figure that out. I hate the way so many families in adoption are left swinging because of situations like this.
Hang in there!!!
I wish you would! Finding a therapist that understands this situation, and who I feel is qualified to help us manage it, has been pretty impossible!
Oh Wow! Even as First Mom, I would have to say her behavior was completely inappropriate and very wrong in the presense of your child.
There is a difference in expressing that you are hurt compared to striking out to hurt others because of that hurt.
In your situation that would have to be a limit placed on her. How could it not be when what she did was not “sharing” her feelings but striking out at you because of your feelings.
Completely different and should never be accepted by anyone in any situation.
I am sorry you and your daughter had to go through that and I hope, for your daughter’s sake she does step back and realize that she corssed a line she didn’t have to and shouldn’t do again.
Oops – sorry. Not enough coffee yet this morning. It should have said – -
“Striking out at you because of “HER” feelings.”
Sorry about that.
[...] read Dawn Friedman’s blog, this woman’s work, religiously. Two days ago, she posted a response to a post in another blog, which I read occasionally. In essence, a birthmother asked her [...]