Mommies Here!

Okay, so I have another teachable moment to share this week.

Last week, I met with a dear friend who is fully up to date our adoption plans. She is someone who has been with me throughout every stage of this journey. While we were having coffee, she mentioned to me that she recently heard about several adoption reversals and that those stories made her worry about me.

Now, I know that adoption reversals are a very real fact of the adoption process. Many people have shared stories with me about birth moms who changed their minds about giving up their newborns. In most of the cases I’ve heard first hand, these adoptions were reversed before the adoptive families met the babies because they were pre-birth situations.

My friend, however, insisted that she saw some show (she couldn’t remember which talk show it was because they all seem to be the same) that this is a very real phenomenon and that I should be really, really cautious about the whole thing. She was referring to situations where the pre-adoptive parents had had a chance to take the baby home and spend several weeks with the kid only to learn that the birth mom wanted the baby back. And I know that those things do happen. I’m sure that it is absolutely heart-breaking, but given my friend’s advice, I wanted to get a sense some more information before I launch into hysteria mode.

So this week, I visited a leading adoption website. adopting.org and I learned a few things. According to this site, the vast majority, between 80 and 90%, of all adoptions are successful. However, when an adoption ends before it has been legally finalized in a courtroom, it is called a “disruption.”  

I also learned that “less than 1% of infant adoption are disrupted” but the older a child is, the higher the disruption rate can be, according to National Adoption Information Clearinghouse disruption rates can range from 3 to 53 percent.” Yikes!

I think that those stats, particularly the 53%, are horrible. And I can’t imagine being in that situation and I hope I won’t ever have to. But I also think that there is a lot of misinformation about adoption, promoted by the media, which winds up creating this air of suspicion about adoption and that pisses me off.

I don’t know. I’m still pretty green in this process. I am just trying to maintain my balance. And I desperately  need a balanced view of the adoption journey. These weekly columns help me  figure out where that balance is.

Okay, so we hit a milestone this week. 

Yesterday, I sent the bulk of our paper work to our attorney. She will put everything together and file a petition with the court, so that we can be certified as an adoptive home.

Let me tell you, that was not easy task!  Here’s a list of what they need:

•  a copy of our marriage certificate
•  child abuse clearance request form
• medical statements
• plus a special letter from Nadia’s doctor stating that she has been completely cured from cancer and that her diabetes is completely under control
•  adoption client information and net worth statements(zero+zero=zero)
•  photo copy of photo ID
• most recent tax returns
•  three original letters of reference

Whew!

Once that petition is filed, our attorney will send a letter to our social worker and she will submit the homestudy. Then, we will be asked to make an appointment with the NY State Court so that we can be fingerprinted on the spot with their new machines.

In the old days, we would have to be fingerprinted at a precinct and then submit the fingerprint cards to the court. In those days, it took six weeks for the fingerprints to be approved, the new system gives immediate results, which is great.

Anyhoo, we are well on our way and we hope to be approved by the end of this month, if not before.  There are many people who would say, we are almost ‘paper pregnant’ but I’m not going there, not yet anyway.

This week’s column is a little different than the others. I”m not sure if this a teacable moment or just an awkward moment but here goes…
 
I was having lunch with three clients I was meeting over lunch for the first time. They were all friends.  During lunch, they spent some time talking about  skiing, their husbands, and grandchildren before we got down to business.  While they talked about their personal lives, I  chimed in from time to time, but I certainly didn’t dominate the conversation, since I didn’t feel as if I had much to contribute. 

I work in a very family friendly environment where discussions about family are very common place between colleagues as well as between professional staff and their clients. So I see why  they felt justified initiating a conversation about my family

 At one point, towards the end of the lunch, after we had finished the business portion of the conversation, one of them turned to me and said, “I’m just amazed at how many single women are having babies, either through adoption or through artificial insemination.  Is that something, you would, um, consider?”
 
And I said, “well, I”m not single, I’ve been partnered for 10 years now.”
 
“Oh, wow!” they chimed, almost in unison.
 
“Soooooo, have you every thought of having a family?”
 
“We’ve been thinking about it,” I responded.
 
“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” one of them asked.
 
“Um, I’m going to be 40 in two months.”
 
“Well, um, you don’t have much time,” another said.
 
“Yes, I know.”
 
It was awkward, because I didn’t want to reveal my ‘true identity’ as a woman who had been trying to get pregnant for several years. I just sort of smiled, and diverted my eyes.
 
“Thanks,” I said, dying inside.
 
“Having a child is one of the best things that can happen to you, you know,” another one offered. Now, like all of the other ‘moments’ I know that they are very well meaning, but I felt that last comment in my gut.
 
 As I write this, I  realize that I often just dont’ say what I think in the moment, which I probably one of the reasons why I  need to blog. In this instance, because they were clients, I didn’t feel comfortable getting more personal with them, I didn’t want to be vulnerable but, in retrospect, I wish I had said, something like, “it’s been very, very hard for us and we definitely, definitely want to have children.”
 
When I told Nadia about it, she told me that I should have said, “it’s complicated” and left it at that.
 
What would you have said?

So Nadia was doing laundry and look what she found outside our laundry room…

A bassinet. An (almost) new bassinet that snaps into a stroller. It’s beautiful.

Nadia was actually quite excited to discover this treat, which is funny because she warned me against going out and spending what was left of our saving on baby items.  It’s nice to have in the house.

Now all I need is a matching stroller and, oh yeah,  a baby.

Well, that’s moving along. We had part deux of our homestudy. Chatty Cathy was not so chatty this time. She had several appointments scheduled on the day of her visit so she breezed right through. And yes, she did take a tour.

At one point, I said to her, “Well the house just isn’t as clean as it was the first day you came.” And she responded, “Good, you are more comfortable now. This is better.” So it was all good.

During the interview, she wanted to know more about our work history and relationships with our family. And that wasn’t such a big deal. Then, she asked, “So when did you decide that you no longer wanted to be with men?”

And I had to break it to her. “I didn’t decide, I just fell in love.”

Okay, so this time I need your help because I wasn’t sure how to respond when I tripped over this week’s adoption moment.

I was speaking with an adoptive mom who happens to be a very notable infertility to adoption specialist about a lot of my issues, including my mother’s death, my tensions with Nadia over the years, and my fears about adoption. One of the questions that I had was about donor egg cycles.

Let me explain…

I have to admit that I’ve never considered doing a donor egg cycle. Besides the prohibitive out of pocket expense, I really wanted to get pregnant and have my own biological child to maintain a genetic connection with my deceased mother. After three failed IVF cycles and countless IUIs, I’m willing to move on to adoption, but I must admit that I was curious about the appeal of donor egg. So I asked this specialist, “Tell me more about your experience in treating women and families who have conceived with donor eggs. I’m really just curious because I don’t know that much about it.”

She told me some interesting facts about how children who were born from anonymous donor egg cycles are often very curious about their siblings, as opposed to their biological mothers. She said that donor eggs cycles allow for in vitro bonding between mom and baby. And like donor egg cycles, they allow for individuals to have more control over the genetic makeup of their child.

And then she went on to say, “You know, you have access to a better gene pool.”

“Excuse me?” I said. Because I thought that either I misheard her or maybe she had made a poor choice of words.

“Well,” she continued, “many children who are put up for adoption in this country are born into poverty and into very unstable, economic situations and their part of a cycle of poverty.  You know,” she went on “most of kids in special education in New York City are adopted.”

And I really didn’t know what to say to her. I really didn’t know how to respond. I can only say in hindsight I wish I had told her that what she said made me really uncomfortable and that I don’t believe in social pathology narratives. I don’t believe that people who are poor are inherently deserving of their plight, nor do I believe that genes are the sole reason why poverty exists but, unfortunately, at the time, I wasn’t in the emotional position to develop a strong, cogent, response.

I felt as if she framed the discussion as adoption vs. donor egg, which is weird because she’s an adoptive mom, but   I’m not sure where her kids are from.

Any advice?

It wasn’t too bad, even though I had been dreading it for a few months.

Last night Nadia and I dined with Dad and we planned to tell him the big news–about our plans to adopt. I was nervous because he is a 77 year old conservative Christian with very definite views on how life should be lived. And that’s the reason why, during our three year journey, I never told him that I was trying to get pregnant. I always suspected that he would have a big problem with our usage of assisted reproductive technology, and I just didn’t feel like testing the waters in the midst of feeling so vulnerable. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like I need some more support.

 On the other hand, he has surprised me on numerous occasions. For example, he totally adores Nadia treating her like a daughter (sometimes treating her better than his own daughter!) Then there was the time that I told him that I was studying to be an interfaith–not Christian– minister and he told him how proud he was.

 Would this be any different?

 So, at dinner last night, actually over dessert, I took a deep breath, braced myself and said, “Nadia and I are planning to adopt an infant.”

 And he looked at us and said in a gruff tone, “So where is this baby coming from?”

 And I said, “well, you know about the birds and the bees don’t you?” in an attempt to be funny, but my father wasn’t in a laughing mood. My joke fell flat. He didn’t even crack a smile.

 I thought to myself, “Here we go.” The old man will never accept a child that’s not directly from his bloodline.

 ”Well, Nadia and I are working with a private attorney to identify a birth mom.”

 “Isn’t it really, really difficult to get an infant?” He said.

 “Not really,” I responded.

 Then there was a silence for a few beats.

 ”Congratulations, “he eventually said. “Keep me posted.”

 For my Dad, that’s downright enthusiasm.

 Whew!

 Acceptance.  

 Exhilaration.

“We don’t give up our babies,” she said.

These words were spoken to me by a very, very dear friend who is an African American senior (senior=older than 65).

She said this in response to me telling her about our decision to adopt after three years of trying to conceive. I was talking to her about the pain and heartbreak of letting go  of one dream and the mixed feelings I had about building another.

During our conversation, I asked for her help. For many years, she had worked with young  African- American and Latino mothers and I thought that she may be able to help us with our adoption outreach.

As I’ve mentioned before, Nadia and I have decided to pursue private adoption, which means that a birthmom (or dad) will have to chose us from thousands of families who are also pursuing private domestic adoption. So I consider Nadia and me the equivalent of  a needle in a haystack.

Anyhoo, back to my friend.

Given her connections  to birth moms of color, I was asking her to be on the look out for women who may be looking for birth parents. And her response was “we don’t give up our babies”

“Huh?” I replied.

“Yeah, we don’t give up our babies.”

I waited two beats to process my reaction to what she was saying.

One. Two.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, in my 30 years of working with young mothers, I learned that African Americans and Latinos don’t put their kids up for adoption.”

I took a deep breathe.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This time I wasn’t going to let this go. I don’t think I gave the best response but I’m not ashamed of my response either.

“In my limited experience with adoption”, I began, “I’ve learned  that there were many, many African American and Latino children that were put up for adoption. So many in fact that domestic transracial adoptions have really exploded in the past 10 years.”

There simply are not enough families of color that are in a position to or open to adopting a newborn or older African American child.

I found some stats  but they pertain mostly to foster care. I wasn’t able to find stats on the number of African American infants adopted last year, but based on the Adoption and Foster Care Analysis and Reporting System (AFCARS), in 1998  approximately 64% of children waiting in foster care were of minority background; 32% are white. Out of all foster children waiting for adoption 51% are black. 

I know that my friends point is not adequately addressed by the stats above. Obviously, having a child forcibly removed from your home and put into child into foster care is not the same as voluntarily creating an adoption plan for domestic infant adopti0n, but I think that the data overwhelming shows that African American children desperately need stable homes. Adoption planning is one option to providing that kind of stability.

Additionally, in my experience, I’ve encountered several agencies that have created separate programs for African American  and bi-racial kids to deal with their demand for adoptive parents.  Some agencies even have different pay scales to encourage waiting couples to adopt what are referred to as “biracial” ( in this case, children born with African American genes mixed with another ethnicity) or “full African-American”, kids with two African American parents, like myself, which happen to be the  kids least wanted in this world.

So my dear friend was dead wrong. But her reaction speaks to the fact that I that there is a lot of shame and ignorance about what’s really going on with African American domestic adoption, particularly in communities of color.

In the coming months I plan to do more research on African American infant adoption. Because the truth of the matter is that we “do give up our own” for myriad reasons and, thankfully, there are people out there who are anxiously waiting to embrace them mind, body and soul.

Even though it hasn’t been that long, since I stopped trying to conceive and started down the adoption path, during this short period, I’ve heard a lot of ‘comments about adoption’ from people that could be my BFFs. Many people, including me, have deep seated biases against adoption, and discovering that about myself and others has bothered me.
So, I’ve decided to dedicate Monday’s to “Teachable Moments”, growth opportunities for me and my friends; right now I have about six weeks worth of material soooo… let’s  begin.

 
I was having lunch with a newish friend, not quite a BFF, but she could become one, I suppose. We hit it off  really well at a work party, and since our offices are close to one another, we started having lunch together on a regular basis. One day at lunch, I was feeling like I wanted to “talk”.

It had only been about a week since my last IVF cycle was canceled and I couldn’t take it anymore. It was hard for me to sit across the table from her and not share what was at the forefront of my mind—”Holy Crap! We’re going to adopt!”

 Since I didn’t know her that well, however, I started off gently, testing the waters.“Nadia and I are thinking of adopting an infant,” I said while sticking a piece of lettuce in my mouth.

“Oh,” she replied, , you don’t want to have any of your own children?”

“Ouch”, I thought. And said, “Well, I don’t think that’s going to happen; we’ve been trying for years.”

There, I said it. And my sense of failure hung in the air, as I kept munching on croutons, but there was something else that was hanging alongside my failure—fear and bias.
I must admit that she was very sweet about my ttc failures. We talked about it and she admitted that she never wanted to have kids but that she admired people that adopted because there are so many kids who need homes in the world.

It was a perfectly fine exchange, but her comment still stung. It pained me to hear her make a distinction between having my own child and adopting; particularly in the midst my own doubts about how I would feel about a little adopted one. And, when I think about that lunch, I feel bad that that I didn’t say more at the time. I feel ashamed that my only response was “well, that’s not going to happen”, validating her assumption that adopted children are different, inauthentic.

 At that time, I was harboring thoughts and  that my adopted child could somehow be different, not truly my own because their DNA would be different. I had doubts, after all, I had been obsessed with getting pregnant for three years, and I still had/have a lot to work through about ending that pursuit. Don’t get me wrong, hers was an “innocent remark” and I countered with an “innocent response”, it was just a simple lunch exchange, but our “innocence” packed a powerful punch.

 Since that lunch I’ve started to fantasize about a little one, Little Wing entering our lives, and because of those fantacies I’ve replayed that exchange several times in my mind. Eva, how wouldy you answer that question today?

 I know that next time I’m asked I will respond differently. I have to. I don’t want Little Wing to enter my life with my baggage. I want him or her to feel completely legit from the start, so I’m going start creating that space for him or  her in my heart and in my actions, words and deeds  right now. 

So next time I”m asked, “don’t you want to have your own children?” I might say, “well, an adopted child would be my own child, but Nadia and I have been trying to get pregnant for about three years and have decided to stop trying. This is just different path. And we’re very excited.”

 Next time, if I say that, I know that I’ll feel better about myself and the lessons that I’m learning and creating on behalf of Little Wing.

As I told you in a previous post, before our social worker arrived for our home study, Nadia and I feverishly cleaned and polished everything  in our house like never before.  In fact, we took a page from Dan Savage’s book The Kid, and even though I have some problems with the book, I am reading it as a companion piece to my current reality.   The bit about his approach to his home study sums it up perfectly.

 Savage writes, ” After we sent in our completed application, we got a call from Ann, who was going to do our home study. The day before our first appointment, Terry and I took steps to deceive Ann, misrepresent our relationship, and conceal the truth about our living arrangements. We cleaned.”

I don’t think we misrepresented our relationship but we did clean (uncharacteristically) like  mad women and we changed the pictures in the guest bathroom, just for her. Prior to her visit, Nadia had hung lesbian pulp book postcards in the bathroom; they were really funny, kitschy kind of visuals like this:

We had about four of them mounted on the large bathroom wall and the week before our social worker’s arrival, I thought to myself, “Hmmm, maybe we should change these photos”. The day before her arrival, Nadia said the same thing, so we decided to switch those postcards with ‘natural women”  because these were the only things we had in the house which would fit the picture frames. They look something like this:

I guess they are more dignified.

When, the social worder arrived arrived, the first thing she did was ask to use the restroom. Nadia and I both gasped and held our breathes. Upon her return, the first thing she said was, “I really like the photos in the bathroom.” Nadia and I exhaled and looked at each other like we had just scored a home run. Yes!

So overall it went really well. We sat at our dining room table, she pulled out her laptop and proceeded to type our answers to the several questions, including such topics as: our education, employment, how we met, our marriage, our thoughts on discipline and child rearing, our religion, feelings about birth parents,  and why wanted to adopt.

Everything went really well, until I told her how I had been trying to get pregnant for several years. Then, she said, “and what happened when you tried to get pregnant?”

And I wanted to cry and tell her about the whole horrific tale, including my fight with my insurance company and every gory detail about each failed IUI and IVF cycle, but I didn’t. I just said, “it didn’t work”. And, fortunately, she moved on. Whew!

Nadia was squeamish when she asked about health issues and she had to tell her about her thyroid cancer  (and her complete remission) and her new mild type I (yes type I) diabetes diagnosis.  To become certified as adoptive parents, we both have to get medical statements from our internists, and Nadia has hers already but our social worker wasn’t satisfied with that. she wants Nadia to get a letter from her endocrinologist stating that her health will not get in the way of an adoption. Basically, it’s not big deal, but I think that for Nadia those 3 to 4 minutes were excruciating. Poor thing.

I guess, you could call our soical worker Chatty Cathy because she talked a lot. She talked about day care, child rearing, and the NYT’s piece on surragcy. The upshot is that, ultimately, she made us feel very, very comfortable and I started to feel excited and hopeful about the ‘little one’ who will eventually grace our home, whom I’ve secretly started to call “Little Wing.” I told her that we hoped to have a placement  9 months aftaer filling out our paperwork and she said that she thought it might go quicker for us, which made my heart skip a beat. Yeah!

An hour and a half into it, she told us that she was ready to leave. I thought about insisting that she do the walk through before she left–because I didn’t know when or if I would ever have the energy to clean my house like that again, but I bit my lip and kept quiet. I didn’t want her to mention my bossiness in the home study. 

I enjoyed her visit. And she will return in a few weeks for part two.

In the meantime, Nadia and I are still wondering if we should put our pulp fiction postcards back in our bathroom until she returns.

So, Nadia asked me what my New Year’s resolution would be for 2010 and I told her I had none.

“What?” she said, “you are the most goal oriented person I know.”

“Yeah, well, 2009 didn’t work so well for me so I not going down that road this year. No resolutions, less disappointments, you know?” I quipped.

“What are you talking about?” She countered.

“Well, I really wanted to get pregnant in 2009 and I didn’t.”

“Yes, but that was completely out of your control. Getting pregnant is not a resolution.”

And you know what? She’s right. And I need to let it go. At least, I need to let go of the self-blame that has grown out of my infertility.

My infertility is completely out of my control. My failures are not reflections of me as a person. My infertility is completely out of my control. My failures are not relfections of me as a person…

Now I just have to say those two sentences to myself every day 20x at a fast pace.

If I review the last decade, it was actually very good. I came out. Feel in love. Got married. Bought a condo. Enrolled in seminary.

In the context of all of my accomplishments throughout the decade, my infertility does not loom quite so large. I know that 2010, will have a lot of ups and downs but I’m confident that this new decade will bring the child that Nadia and I were meant to have.

Happy New Year!