A little over five years ago, I placed my newborn baby girl for adoption.  We had a loose agreement for an open adoption, but at the time of her placement, nothing was certain. During my pregnancy, my social worker educated me enough about open adoption to convince me, but my daughter’s would-be parents were being educated against it.

        Those first few months after my daughter’s birth were particularly difficult.  I didn’t know if I would be able to see her.  Her mother was starting to feel like having information about me was enough and the last person she wanted to hear disagreement from was me.  On top of this, I was very depressed, completely alone, and
missed my baby terribly.

        In the end my daughter’s mother did continue to allow me to have a physical presence in my daughter’s life.  It was awkward at first.  I remember attending her first birthday party, surrounded by her new family and friends, and feeling completely out of place.  Here was the child I gave birth to celebrating that exact day, and I felt like I should stand in a corner as unobtrusively as possible.  I didn’t belong there.

        In the beginning, I kept two sets of photo albums- one holding pictures of my daughter and the other of everything else in my life. My two worlds were separate.  Slowly that changed.  Today, it seems odd that it was ever that way.  It is no longer possible for me to keep separate photo albums.  My daughter and her family are my family in every way. 

        I’ve spent numerous holidays with them and their extended family.  They’ve come to my family holiday party for the past two years.  Various parts of our families email and write to each other regularly.  When they make their annual trip to my mother’s home state, they make it a point to spend one of the days with my mother.  During my latest school vacation (I’m a teacher), I was invited to spend the day babysitting my daughter.

         Most striking to me was a comment from my daughter’s adoptive grandmother.  When my daughter was a baby, her grandmother was completely against open adoption.  She was suspicious of me, possibly threatened by me, and she made it a point to be at every one of my visits.  It was uncomfortable.  I spent Christmas Eve and morning at my daughter’s home last year.  This year, I stayed at my own home.  My daughter’s adoptive grandmother had assumed I’d be spending Christmas with them and was disappointed that I didn’t come.  I have become family to her and I know that she values my role in her life.

        Extended parts of both our families have also made the comment that we really are a family.  Some of my family that met my daughter and her parents for the first time at this year’s party described how natural it all seemed.  As for me, I loved watching my daughter play with her biological cousins, my sister’s kids, just as I played with my own cousins during holiday visits. 

    The fact that we have become a family isn’t something we spend a lot of time thinking about.  It certainly isn’t something that happened overnight   But it did happen.  Even in my wildest hopes, I didn’t anticipate that we would reach this point, but I’m so glad we did.

        Yes, there are problems.  Yes, it is still very difficult for me.  No, I don’t think for a moment that all open adoptions will look like mine.  I do know that there are people out there who are hoping for what I have.  I hope to use this space to share what it was like from my side during each year of our open adoption.  Although I am only one version, I hope that I will be able to offer support to others during the various stages of their open adoptions.

Originally posted at Not Mother, March 12, 2007

I've been asked if I've ever wanted to pull away from my open adoption. The short answer is yes, many times.

So why is it sometimes so tempting to pull away?

First things first, it is a myth that open adoption somehow makes things easier. You know that whole group who might admit that closed adoption is wrong and harmful, but argue that open adoption is all sweetness and light, especially for birthmothers. Because I can see my daughter and know that she is okay and be a part of her life, there is this misconception that I don't (and shouldn't) have any of the well-documented negative effects of relinquishment. Um, it's not true (though I confess to having no personal knowledge of being a birthmother in a closed adoption). I do have plenty of those same loss-related issues.

And out among most of the rest of the world, it's really hard to defend and explain open adoption. While intellectually, I believe in the benefits, it can be hard to stand behind them.

Let's face it, even among those who accept open adoption, there is still a sense that open adoption is about making things better for the birthparents. It is a sacrifice that adoptive parents make because they are so good and kind-hearted. It is the only way women these days will give up their babies (those birthmothers have become awfully demanding, haven't they?). It's about lessening the effects on the birthmother. The message is that I should feel very lucky that I am allowed to see me daughter. Her parents are awfully generous for allowing me to visit.

Even those who acknowledge that adoptees benefit from knowing their roots cling to the idea that it should be on their terms, not the birthparents'. And because little kids aren't seen as able to make those decisions, those same people usually leave it up to the adoptive parents or for some later date when the child is deemed old enough to ask for contact. An alarming number of people truly believe that open adoption is harmful. Because most of these people happen to be adoptive parents and therefore deemed more respectable by the general public, it seems they get a lot more support for their side.

Still, even if we assume that both parties understand and agree with all of the benefits to all the triad members, there is basically no support from society, including a big chunk of the adoption world. All of the false messages I've already mentioned (and many more) are the majority view. My daughter's parents' social workers told them that open adoption would be confusing and that they never should have given me their address. My friends encouraged me to walk away and "let them be a family." Even today, most of the people in my life continue to tell me how lucky I am to be allowed to see my daughter. Even those who are supportive of my open adoption are supportive because they care about me, not because they really believe it's better for her. When the rest of the world can't see the benefits, it can be very hard to keep believing in them yourself.

During the first year of my daughter's life (and beyond), my daughter's parents questioned the need for openness. I see this in the general population as well. People are starting to understand the need and desire for information, but beyond that? Not so much. An actual physical relationship? No way. Actually thinking of yourselves as family? Crazy. For awhile, my daughter's parents felt the same. They wondered if having all that information about me would be enough to meet that need for my daughter. Couldn't I just put everything down on paper so they could answer any questions as they arose? Did my daughter really need to physically know me? And on my side: wouldn't I get over it better if I just walked away?

By accepting that adopted children do need to physically know their birthparents,we have to acknowledge both the bond they share and the loss that is felt. We have to accept that eternal connection. We have to be willing to accept that the relationship is important. We have to really believe that the biological family is still family. I've met very few people who really feel that in their core.

Birthmothers often give that validation to each other, but it often comes across as a way to help ease the pain and guilt associated with losing a child to adoption rather than a genuine belief that the connection should be valued. Often it's said out of happiness for the birthmother and no other reason. There's nothing wrong with that, but imagine that even in the small group of other birthmothers you know, you are still a misunderstood minority. I've participated in some communities where I was made to feel guilty about grieving my open adoption. How could I complain and grieve when I at least still had contact.

There are other people who say the words because the literature has convinced them, but it is clear they are still questioning the truth of it. The truly adoption-ignorant (nothing insulting meant with that description) can most easily be persuaded. Give them a few of the arguments and a light bulb goes off (oh yeah, that makes perfect sense). Everyone else gets caught up in choosing a side or just sticks to the one adoption story they know and clings to how that was done.

I still think it goes back to society. We are a long, long way from embracing open adoption.

There are no visible models of open adoption. It's not a well understood way to make a family. Living open adoption fully requires the willingness and ability to constantly educate people and to fight against the preconceptions and prejudices (this goes for all involved parties). It can involve sharing more than you want to share about your life. It involves all the same complications as other family relationships except that most of the world doesn't see you as family and is more than likely to encourage you to cut ties when things get hard.

Open adoption means that the people I get close to have to accept that part of me. While it may be unhealthy, if my daughter's adoption were closed, I could live as if she didn't exist. Other than the lie of omission, there would be no covering up. I could bury that secret away and live my life in blissful denial. People do it all the time with a variety of dark secrets.

Living open adoption also means accepting the somewhat opposing beliefs that I am both unworthy of mothering my daughter and important enough to have my own unique relationship with her. For me, sometimes the openness makes me wonder why I thought I couldn't raise her. If I was trying to protect her from my bad parenting, then what am I doing still playing a part in her life? Shouldn't I be staying away? Isn't that why she isn't with me?

Added to that is the message that because I chose to give her up, I have an obligation to stay out of her life. As the relinquisher, I have also lost my right to have a valid opinion about adoption. My choice and my sins have taken away my right to advocate for open adoption. I'm not allowed to try to persuade people that open adoption is healthy because clearly my motives are not pure. Clearly, I'm just not able to let go, to accept that I gave my daughter up. I just want to infringe on her parents right to be parents, to get all of the joy of being a mother with none of the work. I know you've all heard those statements. I can bet you that every birthmother who has ever planned to be in an open adoption has heard them too.

I've said it a lot, but it is absolutely true that the pregnancy and surrender cause enough shame and guilt. These additional comments only help add to the feeling that you are not worthy, that your presence in your child's life is actually harmful, that your reasons for pursuing openness are only about you and not about the child whose life you forever altered (with an emphasis on the blame- I am still the sinner because I abandoned her- almost every blogger has touched on that issue this month). We get those messages from everyone.

99.9999999% of society doesn't understand or believe in openness. Every one of them questions your worth, your character, and your motives purely because you made a choice to give up your own flesh and blood. It is hard to combat those messages, especially when you consider the amount of trauma involved in losing your child, the devastating and unexpected aftereffects of placement, and in some cases the personal history that contributed to your decision to place.

I had it drilled into me that open adoption was good for my daughter, that it was the only humane way to do adoption, and that I had an obligation to her not to walk away. Not a lot of women get that message. Very few women get that message. Yet even with that message drilled into me, I still question my daughter's need for me. My reasoning: Lots of people love her. Seeing me so often causes her pain and distress. I disrupt everyone's life with my visits. Surely the naysayers are right- having the information about me is enough. I should step aside and let them be a family. I should let my daughter decide when she is old enough.

To keep believing in open adoption, you really have to trust the people who taught you about it. You really have to feel enough self-worth. You really have to have people in your life who believe in it too and encourage you to keep in contact. You really have to see the benefits over time to be able to keep investing in open adoption.

And it is an investment. I thought I chose not to parent, but I'm there answering questions and interacting with my child. I'm making decisions about what I'm modeling for her, what things I'm willing to talk about, how I handle difficult situations. I'm influencing her. I didn't get rid of the hard parts of being a parent- I added new complications. I may not get to decide what she eats or what her bedtime is, but I have to decide what message I want to send her about her birthfather, about love, about losing her, about why someone could give up their child.

I had to trust virtual strangers to raise my child and I get to witness firsthand the things that make them great parents as well as the things I would do differently. I get to witness someone else's family traditions and customs become my daughter's norm while mine remain unknown. I get to watch strangers come to know my daughter better than I do.

I get to watch my daughter go through all the milestones from the sidelines. I watch as she turns to someone else for comfort even as I feel all the instincts of a mother to protect her. I pray that she will embrace some of my values while recognizing that I am not the main influence on who she becomes- I gave that up.

I say goodbye to her over and over again. My heart breaks every time I leave. In between I wonder if I will see her again. If she were sick or hurt, would anyone think to call me? When?

Yes, many times I want to walk away. When it gets too hard or too complicated, I want to believe that I am unworthy. I want to believe that I am confusing her. I want to believe that I can move on. I want to believe that our bond is not that important. I want to believe that the couple raising her are the only ones that matter. I want to believe that she will be fine without me. I certainly hear those messages enough.

But then I'll remember her voice calling my name- making sure I'm not far away. I'll see her face as she looks to see if I'm watching. I'll remember her tears as she told me she missed me. I'll remember the way she nonchalantly said that she liked being in my belly. I'll think of the way she sometimes looks at me as if seeing a reflection of herself. That's when I know that I need to stay. That's when I know that open adoption really is good for my daughter. And then I recommit to staying in her life.

Probably the question I'm asked most about open adoption (maybe second-most, after "What is it like?") is why we do it. I usually say that we think it's the healthiest, most ethical approach to adoption. Which is true. But last week a friend pressed a little further on the "why"--why so open, why so adamant.

I thought about everything I've learned and pondered so far about identity, loss, relinquishment, the adoption industry, adoptive parenting, child development, etc. And I realized it all distills down to one thing for me: open adoption deals with reality. It's reality that Puppy has two distinct family trees. That other people can call him their son. That one of the most joyful times in my life was one of the crappiest in his first parents'. That Puppy lost something when he was placed. Those things are real whether I want to confront them or not.

In defending the fact that adoptive families are as legitimate as non-adoptive families, sometimes people fall into pretending we're just like non-adoptive families. But we're not, and the process which formed us continues to influence our life together. I'd much rather deal with that reality than waste time tiptoeing around the truth with clichés and secrecy. Why would I ever pretend Puppy grew in my heart? Or that a legal process ends emotional ties? Or that first parents just move on? Open adoption confronts those kinds of things. Sometimes that's tough on me, but it's the openness that helps me deal with that.

So that's my new sound bite: open adoption deals with reality.

(Originally posted at Production, Not Reproduction)