Tag: Genetic Mirrors

Previous Experience

Today’s story – An adoptive parent previously adopted 2 siblings. A year later, their biological mom gave birth. So this adoptive parent took placement of the new baby and baby has been with them for over two years. It’s looking like a reunification with the child’s mother will take place in 4 months. The adoptive parent is worried about any continuing contact after reunification and thinks it’d be too hard for the adopted children to see their sibling but not be living with them. The adopted kids are in therapy but they struggle with so much already.

So this person had questions – Would a clean break be better for the adoptees ? One of them worries about the “bad” life the sibling would have after reunification because they didn’t have a good life with their biological parent. They are worried that their parent didn’t really change and don’t want to see their sibling hurt. What would you want in this situation, if you were the adopted kids ?

In response, there was this heart wrenching plea – Please allow them to keep in contact. My youngest brother was adopted, we barely got to see each other growing up. He killed himself and we can never get those years back. He may still be alive today, if my 2 other siblings and myself were able to remain actively in his life to give him a support network beyond his adoptive parent.

From another adoptee – There’s no such thing as a clean cut/clean break. From someone who’s natural mom was told it was the best thing for me, it absolutely was not. While I don’t have known natural siblings, I would assume the same is true for siblings. Keep. All. Family. Ties. ALL OF THEM. The ONLY acceptable reason for a foster parent or adoptive parent to EVER cut ties is that the child of the natural parent is unsafe, if there was contact – and even then, it’s almost never going to mean completely cutting them off. There is the possibility of limited or supervised visits between them.

From an adoptee’s personal experience – I have siblings that were adopted by other homes and my sister got to go back to live with our mom eventually. We were unable to keep in contact before I was 19 because I wasn’t allowed. I’d give anything to have those years with my sister back. I think having my sister accessible would have been better for me, even if we couldn’t live with each other. Someone who looked like me. Had the same memories. Loved the same people. Had the same family. I think it would have been beneficial.

Crazy and Too Old ?

A personal story in The Huffington Post got my attention this morning – LINK>I Never Wanted Children. Then I Got Pregnant With Twins At 53 by Anne Bockman Hansen. The link mentions “advanced maternal age”. I’m totally familiar with that !! I conceived my oldest son at 47 and my youngest son at 50. When we told my dad we were going to try and conceive the older one, he said “I question your sanity.” And I do understand but really we have been fine being older parents. Occasionally, it has been suggested I am my sons “grandmother”. I also have a grown daughter and 2 grandchildren, so I can easily and honestly say, “I understand why you would think that because I AM a grandmother.”

We knew we didn’t want multiples and so, because we had to use assisted reproduction, it was always a possibility. We relied on the experts’ advice on how many embryos to transfer with a good potential for success, without trending into a greater likelihood for twins, and it gave us the single births we preferred. Many of the mothers who cycled along with me at the same time did have twins and even one had triplets – they were all happy with their results and somehow managed the challenges. Glad it was NOT my own challenge. Having a baby and then toddler in one’s life is challenging enough for me !!

Anne Hansen shares – “Still, the thought of having children did not interest me until I was 52 and had taken time away from my job to re-evaluate what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. When I finally knew that I wanted to do it, the realization hit me with incredible force. I felt certain that I wanted to raise kids — and raise them the way I wished I had been raised. I wanted to bring them up with unconditional love, compassion, a love for learning, a sense of adventure and amazement at the miraculous small things in life.” blogger’s note – Sounds like what happened with my husband after we had been married 10 years.

And even before I had learned all of the issues I share in this blog, I also knew that, as the author says – “. . . I wanted to carry them. I never considered surrogacy or adoption.” and that “I was not ovulating,” plus she shares yet another complication – her 58-year-old husband had a vasectomy in his 30s. blogger’s note – in our case, my husband was able to provide his own sperm and I love seeing how some of his traits have turned up in our sons and that he can be a genetic mirror for them.

Yet, when they saw a reproductive endocrinologist, he told them that sperm could still be retrieved from her husband. Like what happened to me when my husband decided he wanted to have children after all (he had been grateful, I had already done that in my own life, no pressure on him), she was told that she could still get pregnant using an egg donor. For me as well, that was a major breakthrough.

And she mentions the “age related” comments, which I have heard as well. She says – “A member of my church said, ‘A lot of people will think you are selfish for bringing children into this world at your age’.” My perspective is – no one knows how long their parents will continue to be alive while they are maturing – I know many examples where parents died young. Though I remember clearly one day, while checking out groceries, realizing that when my youngest turned 20, I would be 70 – oh my. That day arrived this year.

The same as what the author shares, “My pregnancy was a breeze. I felt the best I had ever felt.” I loved being pregnant. And yes from me too – “the babies were precious and I felt so blessed to have them. The love I had for them was beyond measure.” Ours also changed our lives in so many beautiful ways. Our lives became immensely richer. We have never regretted our decision to become parents, even at our “advanced” ages.

Of course, she had the same experiences that I have had. She shares, “Invariably, everywhere we went, people would think I was their grandmother. Sometimes I corrected them and they were embarrassed and surprised, but many times I just let it go. It didn’t bother me and, incredibly, it didn’t bother the kids. It still doesn’t.”

She follows up at the end with this thought – “I’m now 67 years old with a 73-year-old husband. Despite the difficult and amazing journey we’ve been on — and despite my worries that we could be gone before the twins reach adulthood — I would not have done anything differently. Parents at any age can and do get sick and leave their kids parentless, but not many parents have the free time to devote to their children as we have had and do.”

Chile’s Illegal Adoption Scandal

I wrote about this before in 2021 – LINK>The Chilean Scandal. Today, the story is back in my awareness thanks to The Guardian LINK>She was told her babies were dead.

Siblings Sean Ours, 40, and Emily Reid, 39, walked into Santiago airport arrivals together, having arrived on a flight from the US. Even though they had never met the mother, Sara, in person, there was no question that she was their biological mother – they share the same eyes, the same infectious smile.

These adoptee’s story is just one of tens of thousands relating to Chilean families torn apart by illegal adoption. Parents were typically told that their babies were lost or dead. In reality, they had been stolen and sold, facilitated by a network of social workers, faith officials and health and legal professionals across the country. Thousands of dollars were paid by American and European families for newborns they believed had been given up willingly. 

LINK>Connecting Roots is an NGO dedicated to redressing the damage caused by decades of Chile’s forced and illegal adoption. Tyler Graf lives in the Houston area and is happily married with a son of his own. He has served as a firefighter for the Houston Fire Department since 2009. In 2012, destiny gave him an opportunity to connect to his Chilean roots. During a week-long specialized training session offered by the department to foreign firefighters, Graf met members of the Fire Engine 20 Department of Santiago, Chile. He was excited to meet the team and assist as they trained in techniques to combat high-rise fires. As Graf became acquainted with one Chilean fireman, Juan Luis, he shared what he knew about his adoption.

Nearly 10 years later, Graf received a message from Juan Luis. The humanitarian non-profit organization, Hijos e Madres del Silencio, had located documents that linked Graf with his potential birth mother. After submitting additional adoption documents and DNA testing to confirm he and his mother’s relation, the match was verified.

During the dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet (1973-1990) an estimated 20,000 infants were stolen from their mothers, mostly from poverty-stricken areas. Poor, young and Indigenous communities were targeted, and a climate of fear made it impossible for families to question or dispute the loss of their child. Knowing there are other Chilean adoptees within his age group, Tyler Graf founded Connecting Roots.

Some individuals have been named as being actively involved in facilitating illegal adoptions abroad, but the network was so extensive and the practice so longstanding that no one has been held accountable. One judge, Jaime Balmaceda, stated in March that so far he has “not been able to establish that a crime had taken place”.

The various non-profit organizations, Connecting Roots, Hijos y Madres del Silencio and Nos Buscamos, work separately and have helped facilitate at least 700 reunifications.

Unexpectedly Complicated

I can’t even imagine . . . a sister dies leaving one’s self a 1 yr old to care for. Further complicating the situation, no one knows who this child’s father is. She notes – “my family doesn’t have a filter and I know they will talk crap about my sister and I don’t want her to hear that.”

She adds, “My Mom keeps telling her I’m her new Mama and I keep correcting her to not say that to her, if she wants to call me Mom one day she can but that should be her natural choice.” blogger’s note – why not just Auntie, since that is what she is. However, she goes on to note – “she already calls my husband Dada but I think that is because she never had one to call Dada.”

She adds a basis for her worries – “I honestly only want her to know all the good about my sister and not the bad things, am I wrong for that? I don’t want her to worry that she will be like her one day, I struggled with that as a young adult, worrying I would be like my Mom, and I just don’t want that for her.”

A social worker who is also an adoptive parent answers –  My daughter’s birth mother did not know the identity of the father. It really hit home for her in kindergarten when her class was making Father’s Day gifts and she asked me where her daddy was from, when she was born. I had to be honest with her and tell her I just didn’t know. Since that time I have registered her with 23andMe and Ancestry, but no close relatives have been found yet. You sound like a very caring person and who will work hard to provide a loving and safe environment for your niece.

One woman adopted as infant (but not through kinship) said, “I want to address some points/ language, as it is important.”

1. Babies remember their mothers. Implicit memory does this. Babies also grieve the loss of their mothers. This is lifelong.

2. Normalize allowing her to grieve and explore this out loud. Speak openly and frequently about her mom. Good memories, funny stories, similarities.

3. Come up with another name she can call you, like a derivative of your name that is easy for a baby to say. Note – She already has a Mom, and that is not you.

4. Please also normalize that your husband is not her biological father. Weave it into her life story.

5. If you don’t know who her biological father is, then be honest. Don’t ever lie, even by omission.

6. Challenge your own black and white thinking in terms of good/bad. Was your sister struggling with mental health / substance abuse, etc? These are reasons to be compassionate, and there are age appropriate ways to address this.

You cannot erase her loss, or her truth. You can be the safe place for her to explore and question it, without fear of offending the adults.

Painful Reminder

From my all things adoption group today – I was SA in March which resulted in the baby that I am currently pregnant with. I have had a really hard time deciding what I should do as I already have a 4 year old and I’m scared that the emotions that I’m feeling could negatively effect how I raise this child. Some days I feel like I’m the best thing for her because we have bonded these last 28 weeks. But what if I can’t get past the trauma that I endured when I finally take her home? Would it be best for me to give her to a family that I hope would love her in all the ways that I wish I could? Or will I see her face and decide that she is mine regardless of how she came to be? I’m so scared at this point because I’ve seen a lot of adoptees say that they resent their NM for abandoning them and I don’t want this baby to feel like I don’t love her because even if she isn’t here yet, I definitely do! I just don’t know if the trauma will surpass my love and I don’t know what I should do… I’m posting this because I want the raw and blunt opinions of y’all. I want to know if you think that I’d cause more trauma keeping her or giving her up? As a mom already, I can’t imagine life without my 4 year old but I made those choices for her existence, whereas I feel I didn’t get any choices when it comes to this baby.

As I was looking for an image, I came across this piece in Salon. LINK>I got pregnant from rape by Renee Devesty from 2012 (so not in response to all the crazy stuff related to abortion being forced on women by extremist Republicans today). Actually, I remember the crazy ideas of Todd Akin back when.

Back to some of the thoughts in my group (adoptee voices are privileged). One adoptee said bluntly – “no one will love her like you. No one. Get into therapy now and start preparing to bring her home.” Another said – “If you love her already, that’s a very good sign. Letting someone else raise her is gambling with her life. I’ve always known I’m adopted, and the Complex PTSD didn’t show itself until I was 51. It’s been four years of hell. I’d rather not exist than be adopted.” That last sentiment I see frequently, including “I would rather have been aborted.”

A survivor notes – I worried much the same, that I’d struggle because they remind me of him. But they are and have been from day one, their own people. Even the traits that are recognizable as their other genetic half, are endearing in them. Your new baby didn’t have any more choice at their conception than you did, you are in this together. You already feel bonded, which is a huge sign that you can work through whatever trauma baby may bring. It may not be easy, some days may truly suck, but I think that is a part of parenthood even if the baby was planned to their first breath. I’m pretty sure giving up baby would be more traumatic to you than keeping baby, and it would be unquestionably traumatic to baby to be separated from you.

Empathy from this adoptee – “That something so beautiful can come from something dark & hurtful is amazing. Of course you can & do Love Her! She is a part of you right now. You are her home and her safe place. Please choose her, choose love, let her help you heal from your trauma. Don’t inflict the trauma of adoption on her. You both deserve each other & your other child deserves their sister too.”

Being Fatherless

From Huffington Post LINK>I Was Told My Father Was A ‘Deadbeat.’ After He Died, I Found Out Everything I Knew About Him Was Wrong. “In the foster care system, being a fatherless daughter was the status quo.” by TJ Butler.

Growing up, all I knew about my father was that he was a “deadbeat.” My parents divorced when I was 4. He was a musician, playing bass in rock and country bands ― the only job he’d ever had ― and child support payments were always contentious. I remember Mom complaining that Dad would show up to the court hearings wearing torn jeans and T-shirts. In one hearing in the ’80s, she was awarded less than $70 for two children, based on his income. (blogger’s note – I remember being awarded $25/mo, when I didn’t ask for child support at my divorce because I knew he would never pay it and I wasn’t going to spend my life in court fighting for it.)

When I was a few years older, my younger sister and I spent an occasional weekend with him. I have little recollection of the infrequent visits, but I have colorful memories of his apartment. Framed Beatles albums covered the walls, sharing space with antique Civil War memorabilia and his many bass guitars. My stepmother, who I thought of only as “my father’s new wife,” was beautiful; the coolest adult I’d ever met. When I got my first period at 10, she was the one who explained how to use tampons.

Like my father, my mother entered a new relationship shortly after my parents divorced. But her boyfriend was an alcoholic, prone to verbal abuse and physical violence. At 13, I ended up in foster care, living in group homes and residential children’s centers. There was little talk of family reunification during those years; the night I left my mother’s house at 13 turned out to be the last time I ever slept there.

The group homes and children’s residential centers where I lived during my teens focused on independent living. As I neared 18, I learned about adulting: grocery lists, budgeting money for rent and utilities, and how to write a resume. In the system, communication with family members is regulated. Since I didn’t grow up with him and he didn’t seem interested, none of my counselors or my social worker encouraged me to have a relationship with my father. Being fatherless was just another box to check when I filled out questionnaires for therapy.

When I aged out of foster care, I was angry, but it was directed inward. Rather than hurting others, I hurt myself. There were drugs and alcohol, body piercings and tattoos, and years of nude modeling. A decade later, I had an epiphany that I couldn’t continue the way I was living and quit the adult business. I took out my piercings and had my most visible tattoos removed. I finished a BA in management, secured a corporate job with good benefits, and married my wonderfully supportive husband.

When my father died in 2011 of Parkinson’s with Lewy body dementia, I didn’t go to his funeral. My feelings were confusing. Why was I sad that a man I hardly knew passed away? It took some time to realize that I wasn’t crying over the loss of a father. Instead, it was the realization that now he’d never be able to change his mind and become my dad.

Moving forward, she decided she wanted to meet her half-brother. Rather than admit that she planned to drive 700 miles to see him out of the blue, she told him she had “a writing thing” near him and asked if he wanted to meet for coffee while she was in town. He agreed. She was excited and nervous, and eager to learn about what life was like growing up with their father. He began to fill in the blanks about their father. The person she’d known little about transformed from a deadbeat into a man. She learned how good-natured he was before he got sick and about how their house had been the magnet for kids in the neighborhood to hang out. He told her that he could see a lot of their father in her face. Since she felt she didn’t resemble the people on her mother’s side, she was thrilled to finally look like someone she was related to. (blogger’s note – this is a common experience among adoptees in reunion as well – having a genetic mirror.)

She goes on to share – I began seeing a therapist to work out some issues with my mother. Although it wasn’t family therapy and we didn’t connect, my perspective changed dramatically. I saw her as a flawed human, rather than simply a bad mother. This new way of thinking answered many questions about why I ended up in foster care and why she chose not to let me come home. This clarity has brought me some closure. She ends with how meeting her half-siblings was “about connecting with a family who welcomed me with open arms. Spending time with them gave me something that wasn’t even on my radar to wish for. For the first time in my life, it felt like I belonged somewhere.”

I Love Reunion Stories

From the LINK>BBC – Adoption: Son finally meets birth mum after 58 years.

Timothy Welch was only six weeks old when he was separated from his birth mother, June Mary Phelps, who was 18 at the time. He describes his adoptive parents reasons – “They couldn’t have their own children so they started the adoption process and when they were 36 they adopted me.” Timothy described his life with his adoptive parents as “really happy”, and never considered trying to find his birth mother until his adoptive parents died: Bill in 2018 and Eunicé in 2020.

As an adoptive child you always think about researching your birth family. A lot of it goes back to identity as a person over the years. He admits, “I wondered who I was, certain personality traits that were different from my adoptive family.”

Yately Haven in Hampshire was a mother and baby home run by the Baptist Church. It is where Timothy was born. The Haven was open from 1945 until 1970. Almost 1,800 babies were born there. Timothy was able to get a copy of his original birth certificate. It contained his birth mother’s full name, date and place of birth. A search angel was able to use voter registration rolls and with that information, Timothy was able to find his mother’s current husband, Michael Mortimer. Timothy gave Mr Mortimer his email, which he passed on to Timothy’s brothers and they arranged a day to meet up in London. Timothy says of his brothers, “They are both wonderful men – kind, thoughtful and reflective. I feel very fortunate to have met them at this stage of our lives and am going to enjoy getting to know them and their respective families very much.”

He says of then meeting his birth mother – “It was emotional but at the same time it felt natural. We spoke about a variety of things but the part I enjoyed the most was just looking at her and taking in the person that she is.” He was also able to learn about his birth father – Hedayat Mamagan Zardy, an Iranian Muslim. The couple had a fleeting romance and loved dancing in Oxford.

Some adoptees, like my dad, are afraid to know where they came from. My mom yearned to. Reading stories like this make me wonder how they would have felt, if they had the option to experience a reunion. Since they have both passed away, I can only choose to believe that reunion took place in heaven.

Failed Reunions

Herb and Homer

When we don’t have a Netflix, we rotate through some of our dvd collection – one episode of The Simpsons (only the first 10 seasons as my sons claim they lost their way after that, though they remained commercially viable for Fox for a long time after) or one episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation or one from “the hat” – a box with slips of paper we draw as to what we have to watch next.

Last night it was Oh Brother, Where Art Thou from Season Two. Grandpa Simpson almost dies from a heart attack and thou he promised Homer’s mom never to reveal to Homer about “that carnival episode” which resulted in a pregnancy and baby given away, he goes ahead and lets an adult Homer know.

Homer goes on a search for his brother and discovers that he is the head of a car manufacturing company and fabulously wealthy. He is also almost a mirror image of Homer – with exceptions. This is something that adoptees encounter when they finally meet genetic relations that look a lot like them. It is a very warm feeling.

But even reunions that start out happily, sometimes crash and burn. I have read about many. Same with this episode. Homer’s weird design sense tanks Herb’s car company and causes him to lose everything. At the end, Herb expresses the hope that he never sees Homer again. As any fan of the series knows, he does eventually return . . .

More about this episode in Wikipedia at this LINK>”Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?“

Almost Aborted ?

This story got my attention – LINK>My Family Oversimplified My Brother’s Adoption Story by Carrie McKean in The Atlantic. She writes –

My brother arrived in my life like the rain always did: after fervent prayer and petitioning. With the matter-of-factness of a child suddenly convinced of her cosmic power, I greeted God with a new request: “Can I have a little brother or sister?” True story from this blog author – before our sons were conceived, I prayed for my husband to want children. The rest is obvious (though I never told him about those prayers).

Then, our old family doctor in a neighboring town, a man familiar with my mom’s longing for another baby, asked if my parents would like to adopt a newborn boy. It was to be a private, closed adoption, as requested by the infant’s birth mother, who faced an unexpected pregnancy in a rigidly conservative and nosy town.

In truth, I don’t think my parents ever knew much about the circumstances leading to my brother’s adoption. They never met William’s mother, so the doctor was the only narrator, which left plenty of room to fill in the story’s gaps with details that suited them.  

At a local crisis-pregnancy-center fundraising event, when her brother was already a teenager, her father called her brother up to the stage and announced – “His birth mom wanted to get an abortion, but the doctor wouldn’t do it.” It was the perfect fairy tale for the occasion, featuring a thwarted villain, clear protagonists, and a satisfying resolution. She writes that she joined in the applause. We were the heroes. We’d saved him. We would save them all, if we could.

She admits that – For most of my adulthood, I haven’t thought much about the fact that my brother was adopted. But in the aftermath of Roe v. Wade being overturned, I find myself considering his entry into my life yet again. Watching the gleeful moods of many in the pro-life community post-Roe, I see glimpses of my past. Believing that your brother was “almost aborted” has a way of crystallizing one’s convictions. Growing up in a conservative evangelical community, I was taught that morality was black-and-white. It was an orderly worldview with no room for messy complications; those were hidden behind closed doors. 

She goes on to share – People like me were “single-issue voters,” and the voter guide in my church bulletin told me which politicians were pro-life. Just like so many within the pro-life movement today, we were blinded by our convictions to the uniquely complicating circumstances and considerations in each unwanted pregnancy. 

In the middle of the extremes of a polarized country, the majority of Americans believe that at the least, abortion should be legal in some circumstances and illegal in others. Many lawmakers seem more interested in pleasing a vocal base than they are in having nuanced and thoughtful policy discussions. No person should be reduced to a political pawn. When it comes to aborted or not – we can’t objectively weigh the life we have against the one we don’t. Even in my case, I can’t weigh what my life might have been like had I been given up for adoption because I was not.

Regarding her brother’s adoption, she recognizes regarding his birth mother that – It is possible that adoption was her Plan A, despite the story we grew up hearing. Or maybe she wanted to keep her baby, but her parents pressured her into a different decision. In my own family, my mother pressured my sister to give up my niece. My youngest sister was always going to give my nephew up for adoption. Both were true of the birth mothers in my own family.

The story’s author says – These days, considering that my brother’s mother might have bravely endured a set of circumstances she never wanted because she had no other choice sends my emotions spinning wildly. I move through anger, indignation, and sorrow for the circumstances she faced, for the personal agency she might have been denied, for the losses my brother and she have always had to live with, for the persistent grief that comes from severing a primal relationship. But the spinning can stop in only one place: gratitude for the abortion she did not receive, for the brother that I have. For the family that we’ve made.

Adoption tends to run in families – I know it has in my family – abundantly. The author adopted her youngest daughter. At the age of 10, this girl has begun to grapple more and more with the fact that she doesn’t look like the rest of her family. Her adoptive mother notes – “For weeks, she’d been dissecting our family tree and figuring out how everyone fit together.”

One day this daughter said to the author’s adopted brother – “You’re not my real uncle,” she said, keeping her voice falsely nonchalant and tossing her head so that her long black hair fell to cover half her face. “Because you’re not my mom’s real brother.” He quickly glanced up and caught the author’s eye. They both heard what she was saying between the lines about herself and her place in their family. The author realized that her brother knew better than she ever could, what this daughter was feeling, so she stayed quiet and let him respond. 

“Hey,” his voice softened as he leaned over to gently bump her shoulder with his. She didn’t budge. He playfully kicked her cheetah-print Converse with his mud-caked work boot and she finally looked up to catch his eye. “I’m here, aren’t I? Doesn’t get more real than that.” I looked up at the sky and blinked back tears. His voice, gentled by his West Texas drawl and infinitely tender heart, landed like rain on the brittle places.

Of course, as this girl matures, there will be more questions. It is good that there is another adoptee in the family that she will grow up close to as those questions demand answers.