...and Closer

Friday was great. The drive was uneventful and went quickly, with me reading through all the relevant stuff provided by our agency, and Matt putting the petal to the metal.

When we pulled into the parking lot, I saw D's big old Bronco. We hadn't expected him to be there, but were delighted. He's been such a great support to V. Next to it was a nice Prius. I joked that it must be the social worker's. Sure 'nuf, when we left three and a half hours later, that's what she got into! Interesting symbols...

M. spotted a Carrow's worker making her way into the restaurant ahead of us and quipped, "Little does she know, she'll be serving us her entire shift." He wasn't too far off.

When we walked up, D. was at the door, on the lookout for us. V. and S., the social worker, had already been meeting for more than an hour. It was great to see V. She seemed happy to see us, and her big belly looked even rounder and lower. I told her truthfully that I'd been feeling really good and excited until just a few minutes before when nerves took over. She said that she'd had the same experience. S. had been walking her through a lot of paperwork, and talking about the process for terminating parental rights. I'm sure it must have been very emotional.

Anyway, we chitchatted with nervous energy for a bit, and then S. got us down to business. First she asked me and M. to talk about our "love story," which was fun to do. She asked us about our childhoods, etc. Then she asked V. about her childhood, which was very challenging. She's been through a lot, so its impressive to me that she's been able to stay focused enough to make an adoption plan. She really wants a better life for her child.

S. asked us all a bunch more questions. What was really nice is that we had already talked about most of it. M. and I had decided that at this meeting, we needed to reveal something we feared might be a real turn off to V., and when an opening came up, we waded tentatively into it by telling her there was something we didn't want her to be surprised to learn later, but that we worried a bit about how she'd react. She looked a little concerned. Matt confessed: we're vegetarian. There was a big look of relief! "That's no problem. I was a vegetarian for awhile too!"

Later in the conversation, when we were talking about the hospital experience, who she wanted to be there (D. in the operating room, us there with the baby immediately after) and who she didn't, V. said, "Well, there's something I've been kinda worried about telling you guys." Uh oh. "If my friends visit me, they'll probably be wearing leather." She and D. explained that D. is part of a bike club, and that many of the people who have been encouraging her in her adoption plan are their buddies who have tattoos and wear jackets with a skull on the back and the name of the club, which is a "bad" word. Both V. and D. really wanted us to know that these are good, caring people, and that we shouldn't be intimidated by their looks.

M. assured her that we didn't care; if they are friends of hers, they are friends of ours. I did thank her for letting us know, so that I could warn my mother!

Finally we wrapped things up. S. gave us more paperwork to bring to the hospital. It turns out, the IAC won't have a representative there (unless there is a problem) and we have to give V. the termination papers. A little weird...S. did say that she'd contact the hospital on Monday to give the social workers there a heads up about this being an adoption situation and about the various arrangements we'd discussed regarding caring for the baby while he and/or V. are in the hospital, etc.

Then M. and I followed D. and V. in the old Bronco to her doctor's appointment. My goodness, it was the chicest office I've ever been to! As M. said, it looks like HGTV has been here. I was delighted to see that the receptionist and others knew V. and treated her with friendly respect. We waited with D. in the waiting room for awhile, while V. was getting checked out and then they called the three of us back.

The assistant who took us back congratulated us and told us that she was adopted, AND that Dr. H. is adopted. Cool!

Poor V. was stretched out in an uncomfortable position, waiting for the doctor to come back and give her the ultrasound. Several minutes later, he showed up and introductions were made. My initial impressions? Very nice (but not overly friendly) and YOUNG!

He hooked up the machine and squirted V.'s big belly with the goo that she reported was painfully cold. Immediately, there were blobs on the screen.

Truthfully, I expected this to be a very emotional moment. It was definitely special, but for me it was more interesting intellectually than emotionally stirring. I think that's partly because the baby was not in a position in which his features could be easily identified. That's an ear? Okay, doc, we'll take your word for it.

He is reluctant to schedule the c-section date and will wait until her 38th week to do so (around Oct. 6th). But he said it could be anytime now. The baby looks healthy; I asked if he could tell how much the baby weighs now. He thinks about six pounds.

We talked about how if it is a scheduled c-section, it will be at one hospital, but if she goes into labor, it becomes an emergency c-section and she can go to any hospital, including the one where they both prefer to deliver.

The appointment wrapped up with the doctor telling us we were doing a really good thing, and me expressing what I'm truly feeling, that we are very fortunate. We shook his hand again, thanked him for his special care of V., and told him we'd see him soon. Weird!

We walked out into the afternoon heat and all breathed a deep sigh of relief. V. admitted being exhausted. We took awhile to say goodbye, letting her know we'd be ready to be back as soon as she needs us to be.

...which might be tonight. She called earlier and spoke briefly to M. She thinks she may be having contractions.

Getting Closer

We'd had plans for months to spend a long weekend in San Diego last weekend, a couple of days at a B&B in M.'s old neighborhood and a couple of days camping at the beach with my brother and his family, who were out from Arizona. So when we didn't hear from V. after her appointment on Thursday afternoon as anticipated, we started stressing. Might she be in trouble and unable to call? Or could the baby have arrived and somehow we'd missed connecting? Or, most probably, had she changed her mind about placing and neglected to tell us?

I scrambled to finish things up as much as possible at work, but then arrived home to a big decision: to go, or not to go to San Diego? And if we go, for how long? Our nights at the B&G were non-refundable.

M. was operating under the assumption that we would go, but just until Sunday because V. had told him she suspected the baby would be born on Tuesday (not sure why she was thinking that; something about her doctor's schedule...) Not having heard from her, I was especially eager to escape to the beach. So I convinced him to add our camping gear to our stuff so that we could stay longer if the circumstances enabled it. I declare that I didn't want to live our lives on the edge of our seats waiting for this baby - who may or may not become ours - to be born. (Fortunately, due to someone's superpower - organization - it was quick and easy to get the gear together.) Off we went.

We had a nice drive down and checked into our accommodations: kinda shabby and funky but charming, with a kinda shabby and funky but charming inn keeper. Then we began exploring the neighborhood and the adjacent canyon on foot. According to M., the area has really gentrified! There were all kinds of trendy restaurants and shops along the main stretch. We settled into a chic wine bar over two nice glasses and an abundant cheese plate. As we were wrapping up, my cell phone rang (a rare occurrence). It was V.

She apologized for not calling earlier, and we ensured her it was no problem! She told us that all had gone well at her appointment yesterday. She had been concerned because she was experiencing less movement, and the doctor encouraged her to drink apple juice. She has been, and the kid's perked up. They did end up sending her to the hospital for some more extensive monitoring and reported that she IS having contractions...but they are NOT labor related. Her due date has been revised to October 16th (again with the caveat that she may not make it that long). This was especially good news, as it puts her close to 36 weeks of gestation.

And she asked us to join her at her doctor's appointment tomorrow! Of course, we are honored and thrilled.

Since we're headed out to see her, we're going to use the occasion for an official "match meeting." We've been assigned a new adoption counselor, S., who will see us through the rest of the process. M. and I haven't met her yet, but our interaction with her on the phone so far has been positive. She seems responsive, empathetic, and professional...as evidenced by her willingness to drive out to the boonies to meet us with V. this week.

Before we rendezvous with V., S. will pick her up and they will do some counseling and probably sign some pre-termination papers, etc. Then we'll meet up with them at Carrows. (M. and I are kinda hoping this doesn't become "our" restaurant, in light of its limited veggie menu). We'll go through all kinds of things together, including things how V. wants the hospital experience to go, naming, circumcision, contact after birth, etc., etc. Fortunately, I think we've already talked about most of these things with V., so we're not expecting a lot surprises. I am a little nervous that we may share something - such as our atypical diet - that will turn her off. But we've resolved to continue to be open and honest.

After the looooong meeting, we'll accompany V. to the doctor's appointment that will likely include an ultrasound. Oh, my! Following that, we've offered to take her shopping to get some pants that fit (we've joked about how quickly she's growing out of jeans she thought were huge at one point) or something nice and comfy for the hospital. But, I'm guessing that it will be a very long day and she'll be too tired. And truth be told, I'm sure we'll be exhausted too after the intensity of it all.

With most of these details settled, we were able to REALLY relax and enjoy the rest of our weekend, staying through Monday evening. (M. had to get back to deal with an unexpected work crisis on Tuesday morning, but this gave us most of that day to get more on top of all the things I needed to, to feel a bit more prepared, such as seven - seven! - loads of laundry and getting the timing belt on the Subaru replaced.

The water was so warm and clear. We loafed about and caught up with family. Both of us got a bit more sun that we should've but it felt like an end-of-the-summer priveledge. We board and body surfed and built drip castles. The weather was just about perfect and we really enjoyed each others' company.

We returned home late on Monday night to several big packages, a few of them "essential" baby-related items including a car seat. M. and I have resolved that we'll pack an overnight bag - but not more - to take with us tomorrow, in case we end up needing to stay longer than expected. :)

Work this week (ummm, TWO days) has been crazy busy. But when I left (very late) this evening, I sent an email to my boss and assistant with a five page To Do list for all of my major programs and projects this fall. I told them that I anticipated being able to make further progress before needing to take my parental leave but that the info was incase they need to pick up where I've left off, and that I appreciated their support of our adoption. My boss also signed my leave application, with blank dates. So I'm feeling a bit more like the details are coming together.

I just hope it is not all for naught....

(Sorry I haven't found time or energy to provide more consistant updates; I'm afraid it doesn't bode well for my ability to keep up with blogging during early parenthood. Thanks, though, to all who have been in touch and/or sent your good thoughts and encouragement our way. I hope to have more good news - and to share it - soon!)

It's a Match!

Note: This post indulges those who've begged for details (yes, that's you, Mom). For others just hoping for a quick update, skip to the bottom.

Aug. 31 p.m.

M. and I go for a jog around the neighborhood. We return and he (fortunately) checks his email. He says, “Hon, come check this out. We got an email from a birth mother and it sounds good.” I’m skeptical. Truth is, we’ve received many messages from “birth mothers” over the months, and there has always been something off about them, such as the one that attached photos of “herself” that were obviously stolen from a maternity magazine. There are a lot of scammers out there…

But Matt was right. This email included some important details, including a full name (V.), a hometown (someplace a little more than two hours from us), and reference to things she liked about our profile. She also said that she was nervous, but knew open adoption was the right thing to give her daughter – who is expected in a few weeks – the life she deserves.

We hopped on line and hammered out this response:

Hi V.,

Thanks so much for your message! It is great to hear from you. We totally understand that you might be nervous. We are too! But it's great that you are reaching out and working to make a plan for you and your daughter.

We loved hearing that one of the things that attracts you to us is our traveling, because it is something we really look forward to sharing with our child someday.

What more can we tell you about ourselves now? Of course, we're really curious about you. How has this pregnancy been for you? Are you feeling okay? It's probably felt like a long, hot summer!

Feel free to email or call. We plan to be home for the rest of the evening tonight (we just got back from a run and now we're making dinner together), and after about 8 p.m. tomorrow night. We hope to hear from you soon.

Take care and best wishes,
M. and Kristin

We start to make dinner and the phone rings! We spend about 50 minutes chatting with V. At first it is a little stilted and awkward, but we all acknowledg that it is an unusual situation and laugh at ourselves.

We like the questions V. asks and we mostly ask her about herself – what she likes to do (photography, writing – sound familiar?), and her son, who will be two in December. Though she sees him often, her dad is “parenting” him, and she knows that it won’t be any easier for her with another baby.

We learn a little about the baby that she is carrying. She is quite active and already responding to music. V. indicates that she’s receiving regular prenatal care and that the doctors report her daughter is healthy. The mystery is due date: V. has been given two – one is Sept. 15 and the other is Oct. 28. (???!!!)

Before we go to bed (for a restless sleep), we send off another message:

Hello again,

We really enjoyed connecting with you by phone.

Of course, it is music to our ears that you are considering adoption and that you might want to get to know us better. We really do understand that this is an incredibly difficult and important decision for you. Know that whatever you decide - to parent or place your daughter, with us or with another family, we think you are a strong, brave, and compassionate person.

We'd love to continue to get to know you more. Would you like to plan another time to talk?

All the best,
M. and Kristin

Sept. 1.

In the morning, I call the birthparent intake counselor at our agency, as instructed, and let her know we've received "a contact." She says she knows V. has been in touch with another family. Uh oh! But she indicates that the situation seems to be "good" (implying to me that she thought it was legit.)

n the afternoon, another friendly email from V. arrives. Attached are four photos! She thanks us for helping her feel comfortable and not nervous any more. (So sweet!)

I send her back a message that says:

Hi V.,

Wow, [your son] is ADORABLE (and his momma is pretty cute too :) )! Thanks so much for sharing those photos.

You may have already checked out all the photos of us in the "gallery" on our adoption web site. We’ve also created an adoption video; its kinda goofy, but it might give you a better sense of who we are: [YouTube Video link]

How did your doctor’s appointment go today? Hope all is well. Were you able to get a clearer sense of the due date?

We’re glad you felt comfortable talking with us. We were nervous at first too. Lets face it, its a pretty unusual and awkward situation. So it was great that we seemed to connect about so many things. If you want to talk again... We don't want you to feel pressured to get in touch soon; we know you have a lot going on. On the other hand, if you are eager to keep things rolling, we want you to know wed be excited to chat some more.

Take good care,
Kristin

She writes back that afternoon, saying she'd love to talk again soon and sending along some more photos. She says her doctor's appointment has been moved to Friday, so still no clarification about the due date. She tell us that she's been stressing for months, but that now she is feeling calm and relaxed. She's talked with some other families, but none of them make her feel how we do. She thinks we'd be a great family for her baby.

Whoa!! Deep breaths. This is all going so well..and so quickly! We exchange more messages and plan to talk about in the evening.

But the call doesn't come...I spend another near-sleepless night.

Sept. 2

Then I get to work and log on! She's emailed apologizing for having phone trouble. She asks if we are excited about becoming parents. I respond:

Hi V.,

Thanks for your message. (I wish I'd thought to check my email last night!)....

M. and I are excited and ready to become parents. We've waited a long time, and have so many hopes and dreams for our little one. We've enjoyed our connection with you and are hoping that this might be a great match for everyone...especially your daughter.

Take care,

Kristin (and M.)

We suggest that she get in touch with a counselor at out agency who can "tell [her] more about the open adoption process and give [her] an idea about counseling and support available with no pressure involved." We encourage her to email or call us with more questions in the meantime, if she'd like.

In the afternoon the counselor tries to reach both of us but has to leave a message. She indicates that she's talked with V. (yeah! Follow through!) and done an "intake," which means she's asked her some of the sensitive questions it hasn't been appropriate for us to. We are delighted by the scant info we receive: no history of drugs or physical or mental health issues. We get just a little info about the birth father.

V. does email again, and asks some more good questions, such as why we want an open adoption. M. responds. Then later in the evening she calls and we both talk to her, this time for almost 70 minutes. It is an easy, interesting conversation. Except for...

She asks if we have any names in mind. I start to go into a spiel about having a long list, but wanting to narrow it down with our eventual birth family. At that point, I pass M. the phone and she tells him that she has a name she loves. Well, folks, it was, how shall I say...a name we would classify as "a made up Irish name." M. jots it down and it's so far from anything we've imagined, I can't help but laugh! He stammers, "Well, eh, what do you think of XXX?" Think of her contributing Madisonia and us suggesting Sarah. We all kinda giggle at how far apart we appear to be and move on to more compatible subjects.

V. promises to let us know how her doctor's appointment on Friday afternoon goes.

Sept. 3

I am able to reach the adoption counselor. She relates more details of what V's reported. What's cool as that we already know almost all of it, because we've already talked with her about it directly. This is feeling like what I hoped an open adoption would feel like: open and honest.

M. and I talk about wanting to meet with her soon, so that we can really determine if we'd like to match with her. We're getting excited. We call her that evening and SHE asks tentatively if we'd like to meet her. We respond enthusiastically! We agree to meet her at a restaurant in her hometown for lunch on Saturday - two days away!! I let her know that if she'd like to invite a friend along, we'd welcome that. (She's spoken fondly of her friend who encouraged her to stay with him when things weren't going well with her roommates. V. says that D. is the first person she talked with about adoption, and that he's been a wonderful support.)

Sept. 4

M. picks up a phone call from V. She says, "I hope you haven't bought anything pink!!" She's in shock. Having been told previously that she's having a girl, she been envisioning the little one she's carrying that way. But this afternoon her doctor found strong evidence to the contrary. She emails us an ultrasound photo, and sure enough, even we amateurs can make out some pretty strong clues of maleness!

She relates a little to M. about other news from the appointment, but she asks him for me to call. I'm delighted to do so when I get home from work. It's funny. M. and I only allowed ourselves to think we might be having a daughter for four days, and when we learned we weren't, I think we both felt some loss. But it was very easy to shift gears and get excited about the prospect of a son, especially for me, who's been fantasizing about a little guy in rocketship jammies for years.

V. and I have another nice, long conservation. She reports that the doctor again indicated that the baby is doing well. According to the measurements, he's due date is Oct. 28th. However, according to his positioning, he could come much earlier. I am somewhat relieved to learn that the doc scheduled the next ultrasound for September 18th, suggesting that he doesn't think the baby will show up before then. Regardless, I can't help Googling "delivery at 32 weeks" and learning some scary things. I hope that kid can stay put for several more weeks! (V. thinks it will be earlier and told us we're now on her friend's speed dial!)

We also know now that he'll be born at an Adventist medical center. M. and I immediately think, "Yummy veggie food in the cafeteria!" V. is happy about this too, since her other son was born there and she is already familiar with it.

I bake cookies for V. that evening, which is a nice way to keep somewhat distracted. Never-the-less, I fall into bed exhausted but have trouble sleeping. I am too excited.

Sept. 5

Is this the day? Will we actually meet the woman who will make it possible for us to become parents? Will we get to see our son, snuggled safely inside her belly?

What will it be like? What will SHE be like? What if she takes one look at us and decides we're too old/fat/ugly/whatever to parent her beloved child?M. and I both wake up earlier than we would on a typical Saturday morning. We laze about a bit and marvel at the strangeness of our situation. It is nice just being in bed with my sweetie.

But then I can't take it any longer. I get up and start doing "things." So does M. He prints out some nice pictures that V. hasn't seen before, to give to her. I print out my earlier post about my Open Adoption Wish List. From the conversations we've had, I think V. will appreciate it.With a little more last-minute rushing than I'd prefer (which I will attribute to M.'s butterflies), we're out the door and on the road by 10:15 a.m. It's a nice ride. We talk about other stuff. But we never stray for long. We ask each other several times how we're doing. We both always say something like, "Good. A little nervous, but mostly excited."V. has suggested we meet between noon and 12:30 p.m. at a place she loves.

We're starting to get stressed because it seems like we'll be a few minutes late. So I give her a call and let her know. Unfortunately, I have to leave a message, so I worry that she's sitting there, wondering if we've abandoned her.We pull up to the restaurant. She's not there. In fact, NO one is there. Uh oh! The place is closed for lunch on the weekends. We wait awhile. M. and I make jokes that she's seen us and made a U-turn. I feel just a little bit anxious.

Then they pull up. Hugs are exchanged. Laughter is nervous. V. is very cute, with a nice round belly and a little penguin waddle. D. is a big guy whose looks could be intimidating, but his welcome is warm, and I can tell that he is protective of V., which endears him to us. She is embarrassed about the restaurant being closed. We assure her that the Carrows down the road will do just fine. We precede over there.

...And we spend a couple of hours together. Conversation is easy. We discover similarities and many differences, but there don't feel to be judgments involved. V. seems delighted with the cookies and genuinely interested in all of the photos. She talks more about what it's like to be pregnant, and has us both put our hands on her belly to feel the little guy move about. (A Juno moment!) It gives me goosebumps and a lump in my throat. She talks about wanting to make good of her difficult situation, and that maybe this was all meant to be. (Remember, I am not a faithful person, but I definitely get chills then!)

We talk about her doctor, and the hospital, and that she wants D. to be in the operating room with her (her previous birth was a c-section, and this will be too), but she wants us to be there to give the baby his first bath. Oh, my!We tell her that we hoped timing would work out for her to come visit our home before the baby is born. She said she'd love to.

Finally, dessert course eaten and dishes long cleared, server shift over and other guests out, we wrap things up by lingering in the parking lot. M. has the presence of mind to ask to take a few photos, and he does. They are cute and I'm already picturing them in our son's life book.We drive away wondering if the next time we see each other, there would be a little baby to welcome.

Sept. 8

And today, V. calls the agency and so do I. Independently, we report that we are so happy and excited. It's official: WE HAVE A MATCH!

Up

That is all...for the moment.

Supporting Loved Ones Who Are Adopting

Throughout our path to parenthood, M. and I have been amazed and touched by the thoughtful and caring things that people have said and done for us. Sometimes, sweet gestures or just the right words have come from unexpected places when we needed them most.

Let me also say that I know that infertility and adoption are very foreign subjects to most folks and that they can feel awkward to discuss because they often connect with very personal issues and/or loss. We understand that, so we cut fumblers a lot of slack. We recognize that most missteps aren't intended to be negative and probably even come from a "good" place. Never-the-less, we've received a few thoughtless comments or questions that are curiosity-overgrown-to-nosiness that have stung and left me (yes, me!) stumbling for an appropriate response.

So, I thought I'd write some about things that can be said or done (or not said or done) to support a loved one who is adopting. But as it turns out, Heather at ProductionNotReproduction - one of the bloggers I follow - has already written on just this subject and done a marvelous job! As I told her when I asked for permission to link or quote from her site, "Why mess with perfection?!"

I hope you'll check out her original post AND then the one she wrote subsequent to it that incorporates a lot of the great input she got from other readers.

Here is Heather's spot-on advice on supporting family members who are adopting.

Again, I invite anyone with further input or questions to be in touch. You can add a comment or send me an email or whatever works best for you. Remember, we want an OPEN adoption, which to me means being open about our circumstances, thoughts, and feelings with anyone who is kind enough to care about them.

Why is OPEN Adoption So Important?

This is a question we’ve had to ask ourselves a lot over the last year and a half, and one we’ve had to explain to others over the last couple of weeks.



Truth be told, when we first began to consider adoption, it was an uncomfortable concept. We had a lot of concerns. In fact, as we learned more about the various kinds of adoption available to us, we found that our concerns were quite typical. Heck, I’ll run through most of them for you. But I’ll also indicate why we’ve come to recognize that those concerns were ill-placed:



If we have contact with our child’s birth mother…



Won’t our kid feel abandoned?
Maybe. But we think these kinds of feelings are more likely in closed adoptions, when the child (or the adoptive parents for that matter) don’t have an opportunity to explore reasons and motivation for placement directly with the birth family. Instead, we hope our child feels very, very wanted. So wanted that one mother carried him or her for nine months, and then carefully selected a family. So wanted that she made what is likely the most difficult decision of her life and then followed through on an adoption plan. So wanted that another family took on the awesome responsibility of parenting and welcomed the little one – someone without any blood ties – into their live with open hearts.



Won’t our kid resent our adoption and/or miss her birth family?
Again, maybe. And again, we think that openness will minimize the possibility or intensity of these kinds of feelings in our child.



Hopefully, “missing” the birth family won’t be an issue because they will be part of our lives. Ideally, if our kid misses her birth mom, she’ll pick up the phone and call her.



Won’t our kid think the “grass is greener” and wish to be with the other family?
(Can’t you just hear the 15 year old shouting, “My birth mom would let me wear this!”?) Research has shown that adoptees without information about their birth families tend to romanticize them. While there may come a time that our child suspects life would’ve been better/easier/more fun with another family, in an open adoption he will have information about why the plan was made in the first place, and information about what the birth family is like now. The desire to spend time with them (or not) will be based in reality, not fantasy.



Won’t we get pulled into someone else’s troubled life?
Like in any relationship, establishing boundaries will be important. But it was unfair of us to assume that there would be any more “trouble” in our birth family’s lives than in any of our other friends’ or family members’. Indeed, the fact that an adoption plan was developed says a lot about someone’s strength in trying to make the best of a very difficult situation.



How could we feel like the “real” parents if other parents are involved?
Adoptive parents ARE the real parents. AND so are the birth parents. I think feeling comfortable with this concept requires several things. First, confidence in the special bond we – the adoptive parents – will be able to build with our child. (M. and I have that confidence…and I hope our kid’s birth parents will have a special bond as well, just a different kind of bond.)



Second, it requires a re-interpretation of what it means to be a “real” parent. In this day and age, traditional nuclear families seem to be exceptional. So why do so many people still think that the main ingredient in a parent-child relationship is a genetic connection? Isn’t real parenting more about what you do than who you are? What do “real” parents do? Most fundamentally, they do the things they believe will help their child become a happy, healthy, independent human being. Biology has little to do with enabling those behaviors.



Third, feeling comfortable that our child will have other parents – and additional extended family members - involved in his life also requires the conviction that the more people who care deeply about our child, the better. Wouldn’t we all love to have more people who remember our birthday? Are excited when we reach a new milestone in life? Tell us that their lives are fuller because we are part of it?



Won’t out child lose her cultural identity if she is not with her birth family?
This is a concern, especially if we adopt trans-racially, which is likely. But again, being part of an open adoption will help. For one thing, we’ll HAVE information about our child’s heritage, so then we can work on incorporating those traditions and experiences into our lives.



Ideally, our open adoption will include plenty of visits. So in fact, our child is likely to come into contact with plenty of people who look like her. If, for example, we are struggling to figure out how to “do black hair,” I hope I can just ask her birth granny for help, or whatever.



We also believe that cultural identity is about a lot more than genetics. So there is also a good chance our child will come to appreciate Scandinavian Christmas decorations and Irish beer as we do…



Would it be illegitimate to raise our child our way, if our parenting choices differ from the birth parents’?
We will have to trust that our birth family is placing their child with us because they will support our parenting choices.



Again, ideally, we’ll be able to share enough information about ourselves and our parenting philosophy that when the birth parents elect to match with us, they will feel informed and comfortable about our approach. Sure, they might not understand or even agree with some of our decisions, but they will accept that we are parenting this child, and that means that we are the “deciders.”



Won’t she want to take him or her back, once she sees how cute/smart/awesome the kid is?
Okay, this is the big one, for me and probably most adoptive parents. Research shows that this fear just isn’t based in reality. In fact, when birth mothers regret their decision to place (which is rare), it is most often not because the kid is thriving, it is because they worry that the child is suffering or in danger. And – broken record – openness usually helps calm those fears.



That’s not to say that receiving regular updates and photos of a jolly baby in another mother’s arms isn’t likely to be painful for a birth mom. It usually is. But the loss and grief of adoption is there whether there is contact or not. Hopefully, with a good, strong open adoption, our birth family - in addition to the pain and sadness of placing their child – will experience the joy and delight in being involved in her life as she grows.



And a little bit more…

Adoption – open or closed – links two families together forever. Unlike marriage, it usually happens rather quickly and with limited information about all of the people involved. Never-the-less, I often make the analogy that birth families are to adoptive families as in-laws are to a married couple. They may not be who you would choose to be related to, but you have come together because of love for the same person.



Just as I have counseled friends with difficult in-laws to work hard to build a strong relationship for the sake of their spouse, M. and I will try to nurture a respectful, honest, and – hopefully – loving relationship with our child’s birth family.



(BTW, I have great in-laws who I have come enjoy and love very much. But that was kinda a crapshoot, like it may be with our birth family.)



There is an I in Open Adoption

We elected to pursue open adoption mainly because we believe it is healthiest for the child. We’ve learned that openness can also be helpful to birth families, and I hope the things I’ve outlined here explain why.



But I have come to realize that I want an open adoption for selfish reasons too.



I read recently about a birth mom who took part in a panel discussion and workshop for other birth parents. They discussed what they want from their child’s adoptive families, and what was striking to her is that birth mothers crave friendship from adoptive mothers.


Do I crave friendship with our birth mother? Sure, that would be lovely. But really that’s not necessary. Mutual respect and appreciation, yes; but she doesn’t need to be my buddy. In fact, chances are that our life situations will be so different that it would be unlikely we’d pay much attention to each other in other circumstances (which is kind of sad).



However, in noodeling all of this through my mind and heart, I realized that I want to know how our birth mother is doing after she places our child. If I don’t, I will really, really worry that she regrets her decision.



If we’re in touch, there is a chance that she could TELL me she regrets it (and oh, that would be devastating to learn), or I could surmise it. But at least then I’d know, and I could deal with it.



I’d rather cope with reality than obsess about things on which I can only speculate and cannot influence in any way. I suppose I am just not one who appreciates mysteries.




Of course, in our seemingly perpetual state of waiting, all of this is hypothetical. We’re able to dream about the ideal…and worry about the less-than…. So, I’m eager to hear from you, dear readers. (Knock, knock, knock – anybody out there?)



What would be/are your concerns about open adoption?



Or, why do you advocate for it?



Where is my conjecturing off base?



What has been your experience with open or closed adoption?



Are there things M. and I should be doing now to prepare ourselves better for it?

So Close(d)

So….we did eventually get in touch with S. And she’s great. Very easy to talk with, mature, and articulate. She lives on the other side of the country and is due in mid-September. Most significantly, she checked out our web site and is very interested in placing with us.

Sounds like an easy match, right? Not so much.

She doesn’t want any contact after birth. She is very adamant that she knows it would be too difficult for her. She is not interested in photos or updates or anything.

And to make it more complicated, there would be no contact with the birthfather or his family either. Plus, she has another child – who would be our child’s (half?)sibling – with whom we would also not have contact.

We know, from our research and conversations with current triad members, that relationships in adoption - like in all of life - change. Often, those that start open, end up closing. Or those that start closed, end up opening.

But we cannot count on that.

I had a great conversation with an a-mom earlier this week. When I shared our dilemma with her, she said that initially, her birthfamily said they wanted no contact too, but that the relationship they built during the match forged the trust and appreciation she believes actually made it possible for them to place their child. She is convinced that if they hadn’t had a lot of contact before the baby was born and if the family hadn’t been convinced that they would continue to have contact, ultimately they would not have been able to give their baby up.

I also talked with a dear, long-time friend who's followed our path with great empathy and support. She sounded kind of astonished when I told her we were struggling with the decision about whether to match. She knows how long and how desperately we’ve wanted a child. And she’s married to a very normal, well-adjusted good guy who was adopted and has no more than a faint curiosity about his birthfamily. Couldn’t we have a healthy child without openness? M. and I agree that we probably could.

M. and I have had to re-evaluate – and re-re-evaluate – our commitment to openness. We know it is unlikely we’ll find a situation that is “ideal.” Is lack of openness one of the things we are willing to be flexible about? How important is it going into a situation agreeing that openness is the best thing for everyone involved, especially the child?

This morning I called our counselor and told her that we have decided to pass on this situation.

I feel sad.

I feel sad that we won’t be parents in September. I feel sad that S. will have to go through the difficult process of finding a family for her child again. And I feel sad for a child that will most likely be raised without knowing her or her relatives.

This was a very difficult decision, but it is the right one for us.

(Going through another six months without any additional contacts would, I know, really test that conviction, so please, please, please….)