Birth Fathers, First Fathers: To Acknowledge, Remember, Honor

Posted on June 15, 2013 by

I wrote last month about Birth Mother’s Day, observed by some on the Saturday before Mother’s Day.

I am a big advocate of birth/first parents, and work to include them in conversations about adoption policy. But I freely admit I rarely note the fathers specifically.

So here today, the Saturday before Father’s Day, I embrace, metaphorically at least, all those men, young and old, who have lost their children to adoption and yet still keep them in their hearts.

I acknowledge all those men who may not know that they have a child, and who may never know.

I honor all those men who wanted to provide a safe, stable home for their children, were unable to, and who did the genuine best they could.

I honor those men who work to connect with the adoptive family in an open adoption, who work to connect with their child’s mother in a complex situation, and who are a positive presence in their child’s life, whether the child is 2 or 32.

I recognize those fathers, dead and alive, who did not get the support they needed, who were left on the sidelines, whose hearts may have broken in silence and without tears.

I hold in my heart those men who no longer have a common language or culture with their child, who are separated by geography or prison or illness, who hold fast to their children nonetheless.

And I offer hope: hope that they are not forgotten, hope that their children are well, and hope that we can continue to enlarge our understanding of family, in a dignified and powerful way, for all the fathers in our lives.

Far Away, Always in My Heart

Posted on June 5, 2013 by

This post is written by my daughter Aselefech Evans. Thank you.

I assumed that once I (re)met my biological family in 2011, I would feel more complete and sure of whom I was becoming. Some hard questions were answered. And a lot of new ones are on my mind now.

I was 6 years old in 1994 when my twin sister and I arrived in the US from Ethiopia. We had memories, and family, parents, siblings, cousins. For years, I had this soft image of my mother, a kind, loving and giving individual who would just about give up anything in the world for her children to be happy and safe. That was the love that kept me strong. That was the love that allowed me to embrace my (first) (Ethiopian) family when I returned in 2011.

See, the thing was that distance never changed how much I love her. Although her face slowly started to disappear as I lost my native language, that tender feeling in my heart for her was always alive and burning. No one could ever tell me that I was not loved nor well taken care of before I came to the US. Because you see, my past says otherwise. I came from a poor family, but we all were rich in the sense of culture, unity, and love.

Embracing my mother upon arrival in Ethiopia, and looking into her tired eyes, I saw years of pain, emptiness, regret, and much heart ache. Although in that moment she was happy to see me, the sadness really never left her eyes. In front of me I saw a strong and resilient woman, one who had grown very weary of her circumstances but yet was still hopeful. It’s quite profound that hope and faith during times of destitution and despair are what give certain people purpose and meaning.

So where do we go from here? I really don’t know. We can’t change the past. I’m trying to figure out the future, without a common language but with lots of love.

Birth Mother’s Day

Posted on May 7, 2013 by

Birth Mother’s Day was created by Mary Jane Wolch-Marsh and shared with other birth mothers in Seattle in 1990, to help with healing from the loss of children placed for adoption. It is observed on the Saturday before Mother’s Day. This year, Birth Mother’s Day would be May 11, and Mother’s Day, May 12.

Is it on your calendar? A complicated, welcomed, loathed, non-Hallmark kind of day. However, there indeed are cards for it, some astonishing in their insensitivity. There are cards against it.

Controversy abounds around it. Start with the designation of “birth mother,” and find those who prefer “first mother” or “biological mother” or “natural mother” or “mother.”

Move on to the idea of a separate day: A rose by any other name is still a mother, and why should there be a distinct day? Alternatively, there are those who see it as a day to honor the realities of loss, grief, selflessness, coercion, courage, love that birth/first mothers may or may not feel.

If one does observe it, how so? Rituals? Cards? Flowers? Photos? Jewelry? So much depends on the relationship, the communication, the connections between the first family and the adoptive family, including of course the adopted child (teen, adult).

And Happy Birth Mother’s Day? Some birth mothers note that Mother’s Day is almost as painful as is their child’s birthday.

Here’s one take on it from a birth mother’s perspective: “Birthmother’s Day Created Out of Love or Just More Adoption Propaganda?”

Here’s one from an adoptee: “Birthmother’s Day and Mother’s Day” One quote: “In my reconnection with my birth family, I’ve been fortunate to find myself in the midst of communicators…We have taken a moment to communicate with each other, to say with love some of the difficult truths.”

To me, the bottom line is the value of acknowledging that adopted children indeed had/have a mother before their adoption. The acknowledgement can take many forms. From loss comes healing, with luck, and love: We are all in this together. I believe in adoption, if it is done transparently, equitably, and with integrity. I believe that doing so is possible, and I know it’s complex. I have no magic words.

Here’s a post I put on the Facebook Adoptive Families page Sunday May 5, in response to a post that negatively portrayed birth mothers:

Children become available for adoption for a huge range of reasons. Some reasons include coercion, fraud, and trafficking. Some mothers are heartbroken and grieve deeply for the loss of their children. Some children are placed because of addictions, abuse, neglect. Some are placed because the mother did not have enough money to keep her children from dying. Some mothers have temporary short-term crises, and had they received even a small amount of help, might have kept their children.

We as adoptive parents have a responsibility to acknowledge the realities of our adopted children’s histories, including the fact that children can have difficult histories and still feel a connection to and love for their first mother.

We also have a responsibility to know that those histories can be complicated, and we may not know or have been told the full story–the options, the emotions, the choices.

And in any case, the first mothers of our children should be spoken of respectfully by us adoptive mothers to our children, regardless of how we view them.

Our children grow up. They can form their own views about their first families, and given technology and access to information plus the passage of time, they may learn much more about their first family, and they deserve to have all the truth, as difficult, simple, complicated, bittersweet as it may be.

I’ve known a lot of first mothers in the US and elsewhere, have heard their stories, held their hands, and shared their grief. It’s powerful beyond words. Few things are as simple as we might like to think, once we hear their truths.

My 4 children’s first mothers have always been a welcome part of our family. I’ve met only one. The others are with us in our hearts, and maybe those children–now young adults–will choose to search and connect. It’s their choice, their truth, their reality. I am grateful for my children, and to be their mother. I wish peace and healing and joy to all mothers.

Strong Love, and Slender Threads

Posted on May 6, 2013 by

Singer/songwriter/guitarist Kate Wolf died much too young, from leukemia in 1986 at age 44. I heard her in concert only once, about 30 years ago. One line from one song has stayed with me:

“Sometimes the strongest love hangs by such a slender thread.”

I’ve long thought that gentle sentence describes the connection between first families and adoptees, whether they were born and placed in Maryland, or arrived at 8 years old from Korea or Ethiopia.

Adoption is full of strong loves and slender threads.

That’s been true for quite a long time. In the 1700’s, in the midst of devastating poverty, mothers left their children at London’s Foundling Hospital, often hoping to return to get them someday. They would also leave some small token: a bit of fabric, a ring, even a hazelnut. Those memory tokens would be sealed away in the child’s file. When (if) the mother returned, she could use that to identify herself, and reclaim her child.

“Threads of Feeling” is a new exhibition opening at Colonial Williamsburg May 25. It will include a display of the Foundling Hospital swatches of fabric and other bittersweet items that were the only connection between a mother and child: such small objects, ragged and dirty perhaps, with such enormous significance.

My children arrived with various items from various sources: a soft blue bunny, a hand-crocheted baby blanket, black patent leather shoes, a sweet snowsuit. We know the stories behind some of the items: humble, valuable treasures. To think whose hands have held them, and chose them, and made sure they accompanied small children to unknown places.

And whose hands might again embrace.

What If Adoption Agencies Provided Top Quality Services–to First Families?

Posted on May 2, 2013 by

In cognitive therapy, there’s a useful technique called “What If.” It’s used for taking fear-filled thinking down a notch. “What if I am fired?” “What if my brother keeps drinking?” “What if my child loses the scholarship?” The idea is that listing possible solutions calmly can give us a sense of control, and can ease the sense of helplessness. Sometimes fears are reduced, and possible solutions increased.

Ethiopian adoptions are at a critical tipping point. While the number of children being adopted from Ethiopia has decreased, signficant numbers of adoptive families are taking their adopted Ethiopian children back to visit their birth families. I wouldn’t say it’s common yet, but as a trend it’s on an upswing.

Among the lessons learned from these trips is that while some Ethiopian families are getting current information (and photos, maybe more) about their children, many other first families are not. US and Canadian families report that, during their visits to Ethiopia with their adopted children, they are often besieged by other, grief-stricken Ethiopian parents. These are not the families of their adopted child who is visiting, but of other children who have been adopted and never heard from again, despite assurances or misunderstandings that there would be word.

Two questions (at least) come to mind.

Were the children placed for adoption in an ethical, transparent way?

What were the families told about whether there would be future communication about the child?

The answers to both questions can be fear-filled, for first families, for adoptees, and for adoptive parents.

What if we changed the way first families are treated in the international adoption process?

What if the US adoption industry and US government saw the first families as equal to adoptive parents in the way that services are provided?

What if first families received the equivalent of the counseling and classes that pre-adoptive parents are required to have?

What if the counseling was provided to them by a well-trained professional social worker, who speaks their language?

What if the legal rights and responsibilities were clearly and consistently explained to the first families, with a witness? What if they had time to think over their decision before signing legal agreements? What if adoption agencies videotaped the explanation of rights and responsibilities when explained to the first family, and provided adoptive families with a transcript?

What if we adoptive parents insisted that adoption agencies made a much greater and more visible effort to ensure that first families received the letters and photos that adoptive families send to first families?

What if adoption agencies made sure that the letters were translated accurately, that the language of the translation was the same one the birth family used, and that the letter would be read to the birth family if they were illiterate?

That is, what if post-adoption services were considered as valuable, accessible, and viable for first families as they are for adoptive families?

What if adoption agencies provided equivalent services to wealthy American prospective adoptive parents as to poor uneducated Ethiopian birth parents?

Because that’s surely not the case now. Is everyone okay with that?

Save the Date: Angela and Aselefech Talk Together!

Posted on May 2, 2013 by

On Saturday, June 1, at 10am pdt (1pm edt), I will be hosting an on-line live discussion with Angela Tucker and Aselefech Evans.

Angela’s story is featured in the new, highly-acclaimed documentary Closure, about her adoption as an African-American baby from Chattanooga, Tennessee, to white parents in Bellingham, Washington, and her search and reunion as a young adult with her birth family.

Aselefech is an Ethiopian adoptee, who arrived in the US in 1994 at age 6 with her twin sister. She has also searched and reunited with her birth family in Ethiopia, as well as in Seattle. She has presented workshops and webinars about her story, about transracial adoption, about hair care, and more. Full disclosure: Aselefech is also my daughter. She was recently invited to be a columnist for the soon-to-be-launched magazine of Land of Gazillion Adoptees.

Aselefech with her brother (reunited in 2009) and her daughter. Photo: December 2012

As transracial adoptees, they have much in common. As a US infant adoptee and as an older child international adoptee, they have different experiences. Both are wonderful, thoughtful, amazing young women, and their stories are compelling.

I’ll post more details later about how to watch and participate. Meanwhile, please save the date!

Insisting on a Place at the Table for Everyone

Posted on May 1, 2013 by

Ethiopian food

If you’ve never had Ethiopian food, the first time can be challenging. The food can seem unfamiliar and strange. It can be spicy, raw, bland, mushy, crunchy. You tear off the injera (spongy bread) and eat with your hands. You share one big plate with your companions. You will probably ask questions about what is what, and watch how others eat. You might need some translation (see the photo above); it would be great if you learned some Amharic words. You dive in, hoping to be polite and to enjoy the experience.

The joys and challenges of Ethiopian food for us ferenjis (the Amharic word for foreigners) made me wonder if there was a correlation with improving services to children in Ethiopia, whether through adoption or otherwise. (I think about metaphors a lot lol, and mix them wildly sometimes–such an English major.)

I recently posted about several significant challenges in Ethiopian adoption issues. The main points were the rise and fall of number of children being adopted to the US, the approximately $330 million that has been paid for those adoptions since 1999, the impact of Facebook groups, the instantaneous sharing of bad news about Ethiopian adoptions gone wrong, a new film and new book related to Ethiopian adoptions, and the increasing awareness of cultural understandings of adoption.

Big, complicated stuff.

I heard back from a lot of people (thank you!). I’m diving today into something that’s crunchy and fearsome: how to begin to address the huge challenges in Ethiopian adoptions.

One reader asked : What can we do to get the adoption service providers (ASPs, which can include home study agencies and placement agencies) and adoption lobbyists to listen to all the damage that’s been done, and get them to change? Good question.

Ok, put the berbere spices on the table. Chop the vegetables. Turn up the heat.

Keep talking and telling stories. Do not underestimate the power of effective stories in bringing about change.

“Stories” means candid, honest narratives. They are very powerful.

My 3-placemat strategy for effectiveness:

Who should do the talking? Adoptive parents, yes. Speaking only from my experience, perspectives change as children grow up and one has decades of parenting under one’s belt. I am not dismissing the valid and valuable experiences of parents of young children–keep speaking out. I wish, though, that more “seasoned” adoptive parents would share their stories as well.

That said, I encourage Ethiopian adoptees to speak up and share their stories, positive and negative. The adoptee community award for Most Vocal currently would probably go to Korean adopted adults: they are the oldest, largest group of international adoptees, and are leading the way in terms of activism, networking, socializing, lobbying. Look at their models and learn: no need to reinvent that particular wheel.

Unlike most other international adoptions, Ethiopian adoptions are increasingly “open,” inadvertently or purposely. Adoption agencies have had birth families and adoptive families meet at the time of placement. Adoptive parents have done their own searches, found birth families, and connected with them, via occasional letters or routine visits to Ethiopia. Adoptees themselves have searched and reunited with Ethiopian family members by traveling to Ethiopia or using Facebook and Google. Older child adoptions have often meant that the children themselves, while in the US, talk with birth family regularly in Amharic or Tigrinya or Oromiffa.

As a result of these increased and open connections, both adoptive parents and Ethiopian adoptees can be the key ingredients to providing Ethiopian birth/first parents with a seat at the table, to tell their stories and to be seen.

In all adoptions, birth/first families are usually the most marginalized. They are usually the weakest economically. Poor people have the least power in any society.

We adoptive parents have a tremendous responsibility to care for children who were placed with us, to know the truth behind the reasons for placement as best possible, and to share that truth with our children. I recognize the need for privacy and confidentiality. I understand there is tremendous complexity for adoptees in traveling the journey of loss and grief that is adoption. But we are in this together, and sharing the loss eases the burden. Acknowledging the birth family, connecting with the birth family, speaking out about the realities that cause children to be placed for adoption: it’s time.

And that to me is one of the keys to bringing about positive change in Ethiopian adoptions, to getting ASPs to listen (and the State Department, the lawyers, Congress, and so on): that everyone’s stories are heard.

Those of us who are connected by Ethiopian adoptions have a great opportunity right now, to share a meal, to talk together, and to bring all our truths to the table. It is crowded and noisy. Good listening and excellent translators will be important. But like any raucous family meal, it can offer connection, information, communication, and the possibility for nourishment and change.

Tomorrow: Some thoughts on the responsibility adoption agencies have to the birth/first families, and how they might bring about change.

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