The Declassified Adoptee

I threw my arms around Amy’s* shoulders as she told me her news in excitement. She was pregnant for the first time. She and her husband had waited for the first three months before they shared the news publicly. “Please don’t tell anyone” Amy said, suddenly very serious. I wondered why she would think that I would share her special news with others. I must have appeared perplexed. “It’s just that I told my mom first. She was so excited about being a grandmother for the first time that she announced it to friends and family before I could,” Amy explained. “I hope I don’t sound petty she finished. “But this is my news to tell.” What does this story have to do with information-sharing in adoption? Simply put, it exemplifies one of many parts of life that makes sharing a story (any story) with others difficult—the intersectionality of our experiences with the experiences of others. In this story, one event simultaneously made one woman a mother for the first time and ...

"I thought you sent those things in months ago."  I turned to see my husband standing next to me at the computer.  I was filing through a stack of photocopied pages that held the key to finding my original family and reuniting.  I shrugged.  I had just given birth to my first child, and had left my job to take care of him.  I could not justify spending the near $400 on something that I felt was only for my benefit.  I tried so hard to explain how thinking about taking on this process was making me feel.  I could not spend this money on myself or open this world of unknowns.  "Yes you can," he said.  "What benefits you benefits this family."  It was that day that I wrote the check and sent the forms to the intermediary.  Just what was is that made me walk to the mailbox that day and put this special envelope inside? I have written about the various many things that lead to me to engage in the search process for my original family. ...

Everyone who came with a lawyer was called first.  I sat alone on my wooden bench in the court room.  The room was smaller than I had imagined and full of people.  One by one I watched as various lawyers and court petitioners approached the podium pleading closure to important issues.  The judge was kind; the corners of his eyes crinkled with his sense of humor.  He called my name and I stepped forward.  He asked me why I was here.  I requested a name change.  He asked me to state in my own words why I wanted this name change. "I want to add two family surnames to my middle name and hyphenate my last name with my maiden and married names," I replied.  He looked pleasantly surprised and expressed fondness for my names.  He stated my new name for the court without one mispronunciation or skipping a beat.   The very name that I have identified with for the past three years was official. I finally did it.  It seems like forever...

I was delighted to discover that one of my blog posts from last year "A Letter to my Foster Mother" was nominated for the " Best of Writing About Adoption and Mother's Day " list at Open Adoption Bloggers.  Unfortunately, sometime between when I was nominated and when the award came out, I must have taken the post down as a part of re-vamping and re-freshing my blog.  It was a post that I had intended to add some things to and re-shape.  A year has gone by since I wrote it and there are some more things I would want my unknown foster other to know, if I had the chance to tell her.  So in honor of my old post being nominated for this award, I re-release the letter for you today. Dear Unknown Foster Mother, I have often wondered if you would remember me if we were to meet someday.  I wonder if I was just one child, or one baby, that you cared for or if there were many more.  How would I describe myself to you so that you would know which little baby was...