PAL, You Can Say That Again

I've written here before and thought a lot about how the words we choose influence our experience of adoption. I believe, as with any topic - and especially those that are emotionally laden - it's tough to find and use words that are neutral, that don't relay certain biases, or just reveal certain cluelessnesses.

Truthfully, when I read or talk with someone about adoption, I quickly surmise a lot by the language they use. My judgement hasn't always been fair or accurate, and I often have to remind myself that I've come a long way in my own views about adoption, and I still slip up and say things clumsily. In fact, I have different feelings now about some of the Positive Adoption Language (PAL) I promoted earlier.

One term that I struggle with from time to time is how to refer to the parents who have placed their children for adoption. This is because some of the people I respect the most in AdoptionLandia, and from whom I've learned the most, use the term first parent (first mother/mom/father/etc.). I recognize the temporal accuracy of this term, and also how "birth mother" can be diminishing.

But I just can't bring myself to call V. Dylan's first mom. And I'll admit it's because of the primacy "first" suggests. If V. expressed a preference for the term, I would certainly use it. (When I asked her about it at our match meeting, she looked at me kinda funny and said she is fine with "birthmother." But I don't think she'd given it a lot of thought herself at that point.) Maybe someday I'll get over this stupid insecurity. But for now, on my blog and when referring to my situation, I will continue to use birth mother (separating the words, so there's an adjective that describes a noun), unless I know of someone's other preference.

I will NOT however, ever again refer to an expectant parent considering adoption as a birthmother or to the material we had to create to market ourselves as a "Dear Birthmother Letter." Frankly, though I didn't even question it during our agency's orientation, I'm now horrified that that supposedly "progressive leader in open adoption" uses those terms. Come on!

As with so many other adoption words, I wish there was a better, more neutral term for birth mom. And truth be told, there is. But using it all the time would probably just raise too many questions and cause too much controversy. What is it? It's simply: MOTHER.

Dylan has two mothers. There's another instance of where my viewpoint has shifted: most proponents of PAL encourage saying "was adopted" rather than "is adopted." They reason that adoption is just a finite, legal process and that individuals' identities should not be defined by it. I get that, and I think it is right in most cases. However, the more I read about and learn from adoptees themselves, the more I see how adoption IS part of who they are. So, this is an example of where I want to listen/read closely to discern where someone is coming from. If an adoptee says "I am adopted," rather than "I was adopted," I can make guesses about how they - at least in that particular circumstance - frame adoption in their own lives.

The last term I'll bring up now is "gave up for adoption." So much of the current philosophy behind open adoption emphasizes the "loving choice" birth parents make in placing their children. It suggests that children who are "given up" may feel abandoned or discarded. And that may well be true. But it is also true that most birth parents do "give up" their children. They experience an incredible loss, and one most would not suffer through if they saw any other viable option. So, if a birth (first?!) parent talks about "giving a child up," I view it quite differently now; I see that it accurately reflects their experience.

I worry that parsing words could discourage people for talking about adoption, and I really don't want to contribute to that. AdoptionLandia (my term for the space on the internets and our collective consciousness devoted to the topic) is crammed full of people relating awful stories of stupid, hurtful things people have said about them or their children. In most instances, though, I can see that there was no ill-intent. Inappropriate curiosity or insensitivity, maybe. Or, most disheartening, unwillingness to learn something new and/or consider another's perspective.

M., Dylan, and I have been pretty fortunate thus far not to have had any really difficult situations related to inappropriate questions or language that we've struggled to handle. Most of the time, I just try to educate by using the terms I prefer and gently correcting when we're with someone who Dylan will have continuing contact with. I hope that revealing my own evolving thoughts and words related to PAL might be helpful to others.

What do you think about PAL? Where do you find yourself struggling to use it? What has trying to use it taught you?

Tremendous Two's

Earlier this week, we celebrated Dylan's two month birthday. M. and I sang him a little song (you know the words) and his grandmom sent him a congratulatory email. And I've reflected a lot on how much can change in just eight short weeks.

Yesterday, Dylan had his two-month "well baby" pediatrics appointment. Now it's official: our boy is doing "great." Before hand, we speculated how much he's grown. In fact, he's gained more than three pounds in six weeks and is now almost 9 pounds and 3 ounces. He's also two inches longer. He's still very small for his (not preterm adjusted) age. But all we need to do is look at his chubby cheeks and thigh creases to know he's not our tiny baby any more.

At the doctor's, he got three different shots and an oral vaccine. Wow! I've never heard him scream like that. But then I held him close and he quieted right down. He's been a little extra "clingy" since then, but is easily comforted by close contact and some baby acetaminophen.

He is eating well - about three ounces, about every three hours, including at night. So no, he isn't sleeping through the night. We think that's still a few months away, since he has so much growing to do. At this point, M. and I are still doing "shifts." Typically, I stay up and feed him about 12:30 a.m. and then burp and change him and hope he'll settle to sleep so that I can too. M's shift begins at 3 a.m., and Dylan usually starts fussing again about 4 a.m. Usually, they will both get back to sleep pretty quickly after the bottle, though if Dylan's fussing, M. will "invite" him into our bed so that they can both get a few more hours of zees before M.'s got to wake up and start working. Usually, I keep sleeping and take charge of the kid again about 9 a.m. So, we're both getting about eight hours of sleep, which is plenty, though it is always with lots of interruptions. I'm not as exhausted at this point as I feared I'd be...but it would be lovely to sleep a whole night in bed, along with my husband.

Our biggest concern about Dylan right now is that we think he has a touch of heartburn, which the doctor thought was probable given the symptoms we described. Though he rarely spits up, and when he does, it's not much, he does get awfully pout-y and sometimes cries and "writhes" (wiggling all about) after feeding. The doc suggested burping him more throughout the feedings, keeping him more vertical, and propping something under his bed so that he lies on an incline. After just one day following those directions, it does seem to be helping a bit.

It's so fun to notice him developing. He's got eyebrows now, and very long, flirty eyelashes. He's discovered his hands and is getting them closer to his mouth each day. He's grasping. Every now and again, we catch him in a sweet little smile, though it still isn't deliberate. (Note: I'm predicting now that it will be by Christmas. What a gift that will be!) What's most captivating is how he stares deep into our eyes. He's also definitely following our movements, and seems to be taking it all in with his dark, soulful orbs.

I am on leave from work, and it feels really indulgent to have so much time to spend with him. My biggest stress during this time has been some ambiguity about my work situation. For more than a year, I've indicated to my boss that if/when I finally became a mom, I'd like to return to work less than full time. I presented various scenarios, always stressing how they could be beneficial to both me and the college where I work. It's been a huge relief that my boss was generally supportive, but (reasonably) citing uncertainty about when this significant shift might occur, she didn't make any commitments. She told me late last week that she's found a way to honor my request to return 60% time...at least through this fiscal year; we'll reevaluate then.

So! My wonderful mom has agreed to watch Dylan one day a week, and M. and I will both provide principal care two days a week. Which means we won't have to find any child care for him! As we hoped - and as we indicated to perspective birth mothers - our child will be looked after just by loving family members.

On Sunday, M's sister and two dear friends threw us a "Welcome Dylan Celebration." My sister-in-law on the East Coast helped out too by coordinating the evites. What a joyful day that was! I realize that it is the kind of experience I have been fantasizing about for years: introducing my precious child to our friends and family.

There was some great food and a gorgeous cake, and many people brought thoughtful and generous gifts, which we've been opening slowly at home. But what was best of all was seeing so many loved ones from different parts of our lives come together and delight in our little guy. It was so fun to observe how different people responded to him. At some points, I felt like a traffic cop, needing to encourage one person to pass him along so that another would have time to hold him. He slept peacefully most of the time and awoke just enough to show everyone his gorgeous eyes.

And then on Tuesday, there was ANOTHER party in honor of our son. My wonderful friend and colleague hosted a reception on the small campus where I work and invited all faculty and staff to attend. One of the things I love about my job is that I'm involved with such a tight-knit community. More than a year ago, when we were debating how wide to cast our "adoption networking net," we made the decision to contact many of my colleagues to ask them to keep an eye out for a good match. It felt a little awkward at first, sharing something so personal so publically. But since then, I have been so touched by the support and encouragement we've received, often from surprising places. Many people came to this reception; a bunch of them baked yummy treats for the rest of us to enjoy. And again we were deluged by generous gifts. (Let me just say, Dylan will be one very well dressed guy for quite awhile!)

In our Dear Birthmother Letter, we said something about how we believe the African proverb that "it takes a village to raise a child, and our village is filled with friends and family looking forward to bringing our child into their lives." This week, I truly felt the power and warmth of our village.

Song In My Heart

Hey Music Connoisseurs,

I have a favor to ask of you…Can you help us figure out a great “soundtrack” for our adoption slide show?

As I've written before, a bit (and rather uncomfortable part) of the process in domestic open adoption is “marketing” ourselves to prospective birthmothers. We’ve already got a web site. Now we’d like to try to make a video slide show to post on YouTube and elsewhere. It will feature photos of us, some of our adventures, family and friends, etc.

Of course, a big part of what makes such slide shows attractive is the soundtrack. We’re stumped, and would be grateful for any suggestions you might have!

We’d like to find something that is upbeat, has broad appeal - especially to young women, and that conveys in some subtle way that we are caring people who will not only love this child, but its birthfamily as well. (I’ve been inspired in this project by one of my new internet buddies who's given me permission to link to their adoption video. It features the Plain White T’s’ 1-2-3, which works really well, in my opinion.)

Any guidance you can provide will be much appreciated. Thanks for your help!!

To Market, To Market

If you are interested in pursuing open adoption, you'd better get pretty comfortable pretty fast with "marketing" yourself.

There are lots of reasons that M. and I have chosen open adoption as our path to parenthood, most of which I've blogged about before. One of the reasons, I suspect, that many others follow different paths is because this way requires a certain amount of self-promotion.

Open adoption relies on future adoptive parents creating and disseminating the information about themselves that will attract prospective birthparents and ultimately motivate them to match. And, while M. and I wholeheartedly embrace the principle that birthparents should have the choice of whether and with whom to place their child, its hard not to see the thousands and thousands of other hopeful adoptive parents as the "competition." Clearly, the way we represent ourselves is critically important.

Not a big deal, we thought. After all, we've got a lot to offer, so it won't be that tough presenting ourselves attractively. Plus, I am well practiced at writing promotional material, and M. has lots of experience with design and especially with optimizing web pages.

Oh, we were so niaive. Marketing ourselves has turned out to be the most awkward, uncomfortable part of this process. (At least so far!)

Different agencies and attorneys handle the marketing of adoptive parents differently. Our agency required us to create a two-sided, full color "Dear Birthmother letter" - which M. and I have come to refer to as the DBL - that they can send to inquiring birthparents. We also have to create our own web site that we link to the agency's along with all of the other waiting families'.

What is presented as the final hoop to jump before officially joining the "book" of IAC's waiting families is for their main office in the Bay Area to receive 100 copies of the DBL and an 80 word blurb with a link to your web site. I believe we started drafting our DBL in February 2008....and we weren't eligible until July. For five months, nearly every weekend - and many weekdays - was frought with discussions, drafting, and decisions.

First, I took a stab at the text, guided by a fairly vague list of requirements provided by the agency and several sample letters. Then M. made tons of edits. We realized it was way too long; we had to encapsulate our lives in about 800 w0rds. So we cut and rearranged and edited some more. Meanwhile, we were scouring our digital and print files for photos to include. We knew that these visual representations would be particularly important.

At last, we had text with which we were comfortable. Okay, I'll say it: with which I was proud. We emailed it off to our coordinator at the agency. A few days later, he emailed us back with his reaction. It wasn't the "this is the best text I've ever received. I have no changes, and I know you'll have your baby in a few weeks" I'd hoped for. Instead, he had a long list of changes to "suggest." Examples include changing every reference we made to "our kid" to "our child" and eliminating reference to my "brothers' and their tribes of crazy kids" because it might offend Native Americans or the mentally ill.

While we weren't entirely convinced that his changes made our letter better, we deferred to his experience and incorporated them, and then sent off another version, hopeful it would pass muster this time. Nope. More changes. We ended up going back and forth about four times, each time feeling that the things that distinguished our letter from the other families' in the waiting pool were further diminished. And each time the wait to meet our baby extended further and further.

One particularly aggravating dilemma was what we refer to as the "his and hers" section. Our agency recommended that letters include sections written by each partner about the other, citing this as an opportunity to say nice things about the individual that you can't say as a couple without seeming vain. But in our opinion, these sections in the sample letters we'd read were trite and formulaic. We tried to convince our coordinator we could convey the same information and emotion in other ways throughout the letter. He wouldn't buy it.

Ultimately, in the interest of getting the project done and moving on, we acquiesced to many of the "suggestions," which we came to feel were actually requirements to approval.

Then we got to move on to design. Our coordinator suggested we show him a slew of photos which he could help us sort through. Shockingly, he told us we had wonderful photos, and we just needed to narrow them down. In the end, we picked a few that showed us interacting as a couple and individually with kids who seemed to be having fun, others that pictured us doing active things, especially involving the ocean since our letter talks a lot about our shared love for it, and one that shows us in an exotic location to emphasize our passion for travel.

The hardest photo to come up with was our "cover shot" - the required 4x6 "head and shoulders, both partners smiling, no shadows, no distracting backgroud," etc., etc. It took us four different shoots in three different settings before M. and I (and our coordinator!) settled on one with which we could all live. (In case you are wondering, it's tough to smile naturally for shot 326.)

Then the design process began. It was complicated by not having good desktop publishing software. We tinkered, the program made big changes. We got things looking just right, only to have the printed version vary significantly from what we were seeing on the screen. Frustrating!

At last we had the DBL ready and all approved by our agency. I called a local print shop we often use at work and asked for a quote on the project. What do you know, they offered to do it for free! It was another touching example of how people have helped us along our path in unexpected and wonderful ways.

We got the letter back and had a pasting party with my mom, meticulously gluing our cover photo on to each letter and personally signing each one. Knowing that the agency only links new families to their site on Friday afternoons after they've received the letters, we rushed to get them sent Priority Mail.

Meanwhile, we were working on our web site. We decided to just link initially to an html version of our letter. We - particularly my web marketing expert partner - didn't want to delay any further to do all it would take to have a great web site. (You know, something related to the cobbler's shoeless children...)

Of course, that Friday I checked and refreshed the "Choose a Family" page on the agency's site incessantly. Our thumbnail photo and little blurb with a link to our site didn't show up. I fired off a pleasant but direct email. By Monday morning, we were live! And the wait began in earnest. We could be contacted by a potential birthfamily any time.

We took a deep breath, and then began working on our real web site. It might not surprise you that this was easier for us than the DBL, partly because our agency didn't impose the same rigid guideline, and partly because the unlimited space of a site gave us much more freedom to really express ourselves. But mostly it was easier because M. is so good at what he does professionally, it was (almost) fun to put his skill and creativity to work on a personal project.

Don't get me wrong: it took us several more weeks before we were ready to forward a new URL for linking. We spent tons of time looking at other peoples' sites, talking about what worked and what didn't. We added back and adjusted text we had eliminated due to the restraints of our letter. Then there were hours spent selecting and uploading more photos, and then paring them down to a number we feel is reasonable. M.'s facility with web design enabled him to add backgrounds and other attractive elements we didn't know how to do with the desktop publishing program. Finally, we were satisfied with the web site and it went live.

Since our agency tells us that about 10% of their clients match with birthfamilies through their own personal connections, we crafted an email with a link to our site. We thought long and hard about who to send it to. We ended up decided to "come out" about our adoption plans to many acquaintances and co-workers, in addition to our closer friends and families who were already in the loop, in order to throw a wide net.

Again, we were overwhelmed with the positive responses we received. The encouraging words and promises to forward our web link to others meant so much to us and helped us feel that word was getting out. It was an exciting time.

Each day I'd return home and check out how many hits our site had received. Especially interesting is the Google Analytics chart that maps were the hits are coming from. We took it as very positive signs when the map began to include states like Oklahoma and Alaska, places where we personally don't know anyone. Maybe our own networking will bring us our baby!

So, I've written what I believe is my longest post yet, and I've detailed the painstaking process to get our marketing information together. It was indeed all arduous. But I haven't yet brought up what really made if so challenging for us. The hardest part is all of the navel gazing involved in determining just what to share - and what to exclude - of ourselves and our lives.

For me at least, there was a lot of self-doubt involved. So many of the sample letters and other web sites we'd seen boast about homes on friendly cul-de-sacs and active church communities. They related how so-and-so can't wait to be a stay-at-home mom (usually bolded). We couldn't say any of those things. And truth be told, we wouldn't. They aren't things we seek in our lives. But are they things birthmothers seek for their children?

Presenting ourselves authentically is our highest priority; we know that to make the best possible match, we must be honest about who we are. But that makes us wonder often whether who we are is attractive enough, whether talking about how we spend our time or our goofy photos are appealing enough to help someone decide to make the huge decision to entrust us with her child.

I keep trying to remind myself of the principles of niche marketing. After all, we don't need to attract all prospective birthparents. In fact, we just need to attract one, the right one.

So, Whazzup?

Almost every time I connect with a friend or family member after it’s been awhile, I can hear a question on the tip of their tongue. They want to ask, but aren’t quite sure how. I know they are curious, but are afraid that bringing it up could be painful. They want to know:

What’s up with our adoption?

Unfortunately, the answers right now are “not much” or “waiting, waiting, and waiting.”

One of the key characteristics of open adoption is that the birthmother selects the family with whom she will place her child. This makes absolute sense from an ethical standpoint, and the empowerment and “choice” involved in open adoption is one of the things that attracts us to it. From an emotional standpoint, however, it is hard for me to accept that there is not a whole lot we can do to influence the situation. We pretty much have to wait for a contact and then for a “match.”

M. and I were finally approved by our agency and the State of California to adopt “an infant of any race under the age of one year” in July 2008. (This, of course, followed the very arduous home study process, which I will probably write about later.) As soon as we were “in the book,” as our agency terms it, they began sending our Dear Birthmother Letter – a one-page glossy profile – to any inquiring women whose criteria match ours. They also linked our web site to the agency’s. The wait began.

Being optimists, we jumped every time the phone rang and checked our email constantly. After a few weeks of deafening silence, we became (a little) less obsessive about it.

I think it was in late July or early August when we were contacted for the first time. In the intervening months, I believe we have been contacted by phone six or seven times about different situations. About half the time, we’ve had an initial conversation and then waited eagerly for more contact that never came. That’s been discouraging, and always leads us to wonder if someone else was “picked” or if she decided not to place at all. The other half of the time, we’ve indicated to our agency that we’d made the very difficult decision not to pursue the situation.

How could we actually turn something down? Well, each time it was a very difficult decision (and I’ll confess to having second-guessed them a little as our wait extends). But in each case we felt like there were big questions – not necessarily even problems, but issues such as the situation with the birthfather, or possible health concerns – that couldn’t be resolved satisfactorily in the time frame before the baby was scheduled to arrive. We wanted to be more excited than nervous, and we just weren’t. (I wonder about those babies too, and hope that they and their families are all doing well.)

For the first several months of waiting, we actually felt encouraged by our level of contacts. In fact, in early August we received a wonderful email from our adoption coordinator: “You had more letters go out than any of my other clients this month: 28!” We recognize that we have relatively high “letter counts” because our profile is very open and we’re up to considering all kinds of situations that many other adoptive families aren’t (e.g., transracial, sketchy health histories, etc.). Our letter counts and the traffic to our web site made us feel like we were getting pretty good exposure and just needed to wait for the right contact.

But now it’s been eight months, and we haven’t had any contacts in a couple of them. We were frustrated through half of January and all of February because our agency put us on hold and didn’t send any of our letters out; our home study and “marketing materials” had to be updated to reflect our new home.

Now we’re in, we’ve been re-approved, and can even boast about the sunny bedroom “we can’t wait to turn into our baby’s nursery.”

So, that’s the latest non-news on our current status. Please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m not always in the mood to say much more than “still waiting,” but I continue to appreciate your interest.

Our Dear Birthmother letter and every page of our web site says, “We are excited and ready to be Mom & Dad!” I wonder many times every day if this will be the one that will bring us closer to our son or daughter.