Creed - With Arms Wide Open

Being "Chosen"

There is a great myth propagated by the adoption industry and supported by many adoptive parents that adoptees are somehow “special” because they are “chosen”.  I found myself wondering today if I might feel less bad about my experience as an adoptee if I actually had been chosen as opposed to being a single offering; take him or leave him.  Obviously that isn’t something I can find an answer to, but it is an interesting question.

There is a book called “The Chosen Baby” that is about adoption and is aimed at adopted children.  It was (and perhaps still is) recommend as a way to tell ones’ adopted child he or she is adopted.  I suppose it is possible that at some point in adoption’s past there we so many babies available for adoption that adopting parents had a choice of babies.  That was not the case when I was adopted in 1973 and it certainly isn’t the case now (I am speaking of infant adoptions, for older children there is likely some ability to choose).  The only choice my adoptive parents had was whether or not to say yes when I was offered.  Saying no was technically an option but they likely assumed (and would have been correct) that couples who turn down babies don’t get offered babies again.  They did not get to go to a home and pick out the “best” infant from a multitude; they were offered me and accepted.   They made no choice past “yes” or “no”.

Infants are given up for a myriad of justifications.  They all basically boil down to one reason though, we (the adoptees) were not as important to someone who would have been instrumental in keeping us with our natural families as some other concern.  In my case the people who should have had my best interests at heart but didn’t were my father and grandmother.  Other things were more important to them than I was.  They didn’t “love me so much they gave me away” (a justification we often hear from the adoption industry), instead they didn’t love me enough (or perhaps at all) to keep me.

So, was I or are any of us “chosen”?  No, that is simply a cover word used to deny reality.  The reality is that in order to be available for adoption the people who were supposed to care for us decided something else was more important.  The only choice made in relation to me was the choice to make “not being embarrassed” and “not being tied down” more important than me.  That is, unfortunately, the reality of adoption and adoptees live with it every day.  In many of us it creates lifelong feelings that we are not good enough or not worthy.  That is the reality behind being “chosen”.

The Verve Pipe - The Freshmen

Purchase or Person?

There have been a couple of interviews posted to AdopteesOn since mine.  I’ve listened to all the interviews there and all have had an impact on me in one way or another.  I’ve also heard a little bit of my story in each of them.  The more recent of them, as of this writing, was the second male interviewed, Davis.  His interview was very interesting and parts of it sounded very familiar.  However, he also recorded a reading of something he wrote earlier entitled “Am I blood or am I Water”.  I’m linking it here because I found it to be very powerful.  It also sounded very familiar.

It occurred to me after listening to Davis’ interview and reading that I have always felt like property rather than family when it came to my adoptive “family”.  Something was always wrong there.  It was more than just having a different sense of humor, a different way of looking at things, and not having physical features in common with them.  I never felt like a real member of the family, or any family.  It has taken me a long time to even start to figure some of this out and I have to provide special thanks to Davis and Haley Radke for helping bring it to my attention.

I’ve written before that I had a hard time, and still have a hard time, conceptualizing my birth.  I know logically I must have been born like everyone else.  My mom has told me the story, the story I didn’t have for 42 years, so I know it happened.  Even so, I spent the vast majority of my life feeling like I had just popped into existence at 3 ½ months.  Knowing how it began hasn’t helped that feeling to go away and I think that is part of the reason I always felt like property.  My adoptive mother was (and still is unfortunately) fond of saying that I “Cost $15”.  Given my inability to believe in my birth and constantly being told I was purchased by my adoptive mother I developed this feeling that I wasn’t a person but a purchase.  Purchases, unlike people, get returned or discarded if they don’t work out.  I never felt like I worked out in my adoptive “family”.  I also never felt like I had a family.  Go figure.

Davis can be found here:

Am I Blood or am I Water

Little Things

I was watching a movie recently where a guy around my age was taking his son, about the age of my twin sons, to see his newborn sister.  He said something to the effect of "Come on bud; let’s go meet your sister".  I started tearing up when he said it.  My two sisters were 34 and 31 when I met them.  I wasn't there to meet them when they were born thanks to adoption.  I'm nearly nine years older than the older of my two sisters; I would have clear memories of both of them being born if I had been around.

Something is always creeping up on me like this.  It is usually in the form of something pretty innocuous like the movie I was watching recently.  There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what sets me off and what doesn’t.  Likely that means it is more dependent on my mood than on the specific things that get me going.

I was out visiting my family again last weekend.  As usual it was a great visit.  As usual, leaving was very hard.  My mom found a picture recently of her with my biological father and she gave it to me.  I don’t suppose a lot of adoptees get to see pictures of their natural parents together and I am glad I was able to see it.  So far as she knows it is the only such picture in existence.  I was struck by how much she looked then like my oldest sister does now.  I suppose such things are not surprising to most people, but most people don’t spend the lion’s share of their lives without any contact with biological relations.  I wonder how long it will be before I start taking these similarities for granted?

I spent most of Friday with my oldest sister.  I felt like we had a great time and I think she did as well.  It was nice getting to know her a little better.  I still have no idea how to be anyone’s brother but perhaps I am starting to learn a little bit.  We celebrated her birthday, her son’s birthday, and our other sister’s birthday on Saturday night.  So, I didn’t miss those celebrations like I did the last set.  I was very happy to be there for them.  I spent most of Sunday afternoon playing outside with a niece and nephew and think I managed to bond with them a little bit more in the process.  As much as I enjoy my time with all of them I still have no idea how to act most of the time.  Awkwardness, the story of my life…

My Adoptees On Interview

The little black monster

My youngest sister turned 32 on Saturday.  Much like the last set of birthdays this marked the 32nd time I've missed it.  I've been trying not to dwell on all I have missed, and continue to miss, since there is nothing to be done about the past. It works for a while, then hits me out of nowhere.  I suppose that is an improvement of sorts but it doesn't feel that way when it hits me unexpectedly.

On Saturday night we went to my wife's mother's house for dinner and such.  I was having a pretty good day for me, especially considering it was my sister's birthday.  Most of my wife's siblings were there so I got to see a little bit of what might have been for me.  It got me wondering if I will ever have that sort of relationship with my siblings.  They have been nothing but accepting of me and the things we have in common are almost spooky.  However, we lack that shared experience my wife and her siblings have.  As much as people like to say it there is no making up for lost time, only making the best of the time one has.

So, the little black monster that rears its head all too often decided to hit me again just as we were leaving.   My wife noticed my mood had shifted suddenly and asked me what was wrong.  My response was "the same thing that is always wrong".  She said "But you were fine inside".  Yes, I was and now I'm not.   It happens without warning.

Adoption, the gift that keeps on giving...