# 31: MOTHER'S DAY (THE UNSENT LETTERS)

PAGE # 31

Saturday

5/12/12
The Night Before Mother's Day

Dear Birth Mother,


I've been thinking about you a lot, especially with Mother's Day being tomorrow.  I checked your Facebook page recently, and even though we are not friends there and your page is not public, I could see your profile picture and your friend list.


It looks like you changed your profile pic to one from when you were pregnant with Lily.  There is a man seated next to you, but the picture is cropped, so I can only see a fraction of his face.  I can't tell for sure, but it looks like it is Lily's biological father.


You look beautiful and happy in this picture.


Then, my gaze shifted down toward your friend list--I didn't click on it--I just saw the "featured friends" that a viewer sees on the side.  And I saw your name again, so I clicked on that.


I guess you have two Facebook accounts. 


This profile page, unlike the other, has the updated timeline feature.  The inset photo is one of you, your husband, and your two boys.  The large photo is a picture of a beautiful flower.  It's a lily.  Of course.


I started to feel a bit of panic, because having a therapist background, and a significant knowledge of complex trauma (both personal & professional), I could not help but view this as proof of dissociative phenomena.  NOT something severe like a multiple personality disorder.  Just that you might be fragmented now.  Like the pregnant mother you were got split off from the person you have to be now.  The mother you have to be without Lily.


I've felt a lot of anxiety since this Facebook discovery.  It's hard for me to figure out whether my concerns for you are accurate, or whether this is just some manifestation of my own PTSD.  My own transference issues, so to speak.  Perhaps it doesn't really matter.  Maybe it's a bit of both.


I had a vivid dream a few nights after this Facebook discovery.


In the dream, I had found Lily.  I was running with her.  I held her close; I was worried I might drop her by accident.  The landscape kept changing and it was hard to stay balanced.  I ran through fields of tall grass, through parking lots of empty cars.  I was looking for you.  I was trying to bring Lily back to you.  But I couldn't find you.  


When I woke up, it was still the middle of the night.  I was sweating and my toes were rounded and clenched.  My body felt weighted, like I was pinned down by some unseen force.  I wake up like this a lot nowadays, and I have to work really hard from launching into a full blown panic attack.  I'm usually okay during the daytime.  The panic episodes mostly happen at night.


My therapist has pointed out that my concern for you is a bit obsessive.  Perhaps.  I acknowledge that on some level, focusing on you has maybe protected me from feeling my own pain.  It is hard for me to give myself permission to cry about Lily.  I feel like I'd be usurping your grief somehow.  But during that therapy session, I was able to cry.  And I guess that's okay too.


Just today, the whole family was out shopping.  We were in the kids' department, buying new shoes for Sara.  I saw a baby--she had to be the same age Lily is now--so I got up real close to see if maybe she was Lily.  Remember the birthmarks Lily had under her nose?  The ones the nurse said were called stork bites?  I always look for those when I smile at babies.  The nurse said they would fade away eventually, but you never know.  


I guess I feel forever linked to you.  We both lost the same baby girl to the world of adoption.  She is your daughter, and I want you to know that we loved her too.


Happy Mother's Day to both of us.  


Jennifer 

# 24: HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE PUTATIVE FATHER REGISTRY?

WAKE UP DAD!
There's a man at the door who says you forgot to sign the putative father registry.
And now some weird family is gonna come and adopt me!

PAGE # 24

Monday

12/12/11

2:30 pm

"Jennifer!  Hi, it's Paula." 

 The social worker sounded enthusiastic.  I could practically hear the smile on her face.  I moved into the living room, the only spot in my house with decent cell phone signal. 

"Hi Paula," I replied.

"I just left my meeting with Kendra and Johnny.  Jennifer, I have to tell you, I believe she is going through with this," Paula stated.  "She has thoroughly processed this adoption plan.  She is so different from other birth moms I've worked with.  I'm telling you, she is the cream of the crop as far as birth mothers go.  I was so impressed with her..."

"Paula, wait," I interrupted.  "Hold on."

Of course I wanted to hear about the meeting with Kendra, but I had an unsettling conversation earlier in the day with the attorney, and it needed to take priority.  Immediately.

"Look, Paula," I started.  "I spoke with Shelley [the adoption attorney] earlier.  She told me that Kendra has a friend spying on the biological father's Facebook page.  And that the biological father is saying all kinds of terrible things about Kendra, about how she messed up his life, and that he wants to kill himself.  I'm very concerned about this," I explained.  "Everyone has been telling me that Bobby [the biological father] doesn't want anything to do with the baby, but now this?"

Paula made a slight sound--an indication that she was listening and that I should continue.

"Shelley is adamant that the biological dad does not want the baby.  She said that if he really wanted the baby, he'd be taking legal action to stop the adoption, not posting stuff on his Facebook page.  Does this sound reasonable to you?" I asked.  "I wondered whether perhaps Bobby does not know what legal steps to take, but the attorney claims that the specific directions are in the papers she served him, as well as her phone number.  She says that if he really wanted to try and block the adoption, he could just pick up a phone and call her.  That he's just trying to hurt Kendra with all the Facebook posts."

I was anxious.  Tom was away at a work meeting, and the attorney, obviously, had not been a comfort.  

"Look, Jennifer," Paula said.  "I know how Shelley comes across at times and you just have to remember that she's an attorney.  She doesn't have the patience for all the emotional factors involved.  I get it.  But she's right," Paula stated.  "If Bobby wanted this child, he'd call Shelley.  And sign the putative father registry.  He's not doing any of the steps toward parenting this child.  He hasn't even given Kendra any money.  In order to establish paternity, he needs to demonstrate financial support during the pregnancy."

"What about the suicidal threats he's supposedly making on Facebook?" I asked.  "I've worked in an inpatient psychiatric hospital, Paula.  It's impossible for me to just dismiss a suicidal threat without any kind of clinical assessment."  

"I know this is all very dramatic and overwhelming," Paula agreed.  "But this is just how adoption is.  Biological families are dysfunctional and they tend to act out all over the place.  I do not believe this guy is suicidal, not at all.  It's all posturing.  He's just trying to save face with his family and friends.  It's what a lot of these guys do."

"Save face?" I asked.

"Yes," Paula continued.  "He doesn't want the baby.  But he's not going to admit that to his family and friends.  This way, he makes Kendra the villain and himself the victim.  He gets everyone's sympathy if he loses this baby to adoption.  And he's done nothing to challenge the adoption."

Bobby needed to do 3 things to contest the adoption:

1. Sign the putative father registry.
2. Submit a signed affidavit attesting to his ability to parent the child.
3. Send Kendra some money.

According to the adoption attorney, Bobby had failed to complete any of these three steps.  Moreover, if he didn't understand what he needed to do, he simply needed to call her for clarification.  Her contact information was all over the legal paperwork he'd been served over  a week earlier.

I was calming down, for sure, but being an obsessive-compulsive checker, I ran the whole Facebook drama past one of my best friends, Crystal.  Crystal is also a social worker, who, like Paula, does adoption home studies.  She's spent years working with kids in the foster care system too--and has seen more than her share of abuses.  She is 100 % ethical and devoted to the safety of everyone in all her cases.  I've listened to her vent her own frustration about 'the system' and know she will take every action necessary, including testifying in court, on behalf of her clients.  She is also an adult adoptee with a significant trauma history of her own.  She was adopted out of the foster care system at the age of five, but you'd never be able to tell.  She is a true survivor and a success story.  Her opinion is everything to me.

Crystal was in agreement with Paula:

"It does sound like the bio dad is just saving face with his friends and family.  Obviously, you cannot know anything for sure, but given all the information we have, it's pretty clear he's not interested in fathering this child," Crystal explained.  "But," Crystal warned, "I think you need to go into this with a different frame of mind.  You need to start thinking of this as a foster-adopt placement, because the birth dad has not signed off on the paperwork.  And until his 30 days are up, you and Tom are officially a foster family.  And no matter what is going to happen, you should just focus right now on giving this baby a safe place for her first weeks of life.  You and Tom and TJ and Sara are going to give this baby all the love she deserves, and even if the adoption falls through, you will always know in your heart that you gave her at least that."

Crystal and Paula were probably right, but I logged onto Facebook anyway, and tried to access Bobby's profile page.  Though his pictures were public, his wall was limited to friends only.  Again, his profile picture made me shiver.  But it was worse than the first time I had looked.  Before, he was pictured holding the dead corpse of a deer he'd obviously hunted, but now, the photo had been cropped.  He had cut himself out of the picture.  In fact, most of the deer was gone too.  All that remained was the animal's head:  its vacant eyes, the blood gushing from its mouth, the stained fur.

*** 

I could not stop myself from projecting every conceivable emotion, image, idea, etc. onto the biological parents.  They were mysterious, heartbreaking, terrifying, unknown lurking variables in this complicated equation of adoption.  And while I tended to thrust relational paradigms upon Kendra, I thought of Bobby, the bio dad, as some quantitative entity in my mind--like a pie graph.  Since I had absolutely no direct knowledge of him, I saw him as one giant circle cut into parts representing numerical possibilities.  I figured it was a 50/50 chance that he wanted to father the baby.  Out of the half a chance that he did indeed want to father the child, I divided this region in two parts (to account for possible reasons why he had not taken any legal action thus far).  According to my mental diagram, he was 1/2 deadbeat bio dad or 1/2 victim himself:  

The green half--Truly No Interest in Baby--requires no additional explanation.


The red quarter--Victim of Kendra Lying About Him:

Maybe he had sent Kendra money but she was lying?  

The orange quarter--Victim of Confusing Legal System:

Perhaps Bobby was struggling to decode the legal documents?  It seemed plausible that the man might be overwhelmed by the legal process and not have the resources to help him navigate the system.  

I mean, what the hell is a putative father registry?  I'd certainly never heard of one.  Where does one sign it?  Does one learn about it in public school?  Maybe the government gives you a pamphlet about it when you register to vote?  Or get your driver's license?  


Nowadays, it's not enough just to make the baby.  At least not for the man.  


If you:

1. Are male
2. And have had intercourse with a female in the last 9 months
3. And are not married to said female
4. And could have fathered a child
5. And even if you're not sure
6. And even if it was a one night stand
7. And even if you don't know said female's real name
8. And if you don't want your maybe baby adopted out

THEN...STOP READING THIS BLOG IMMEDIATELY!  AND GO SIGN THE PUTATIVE FATHER REGISTRY.


Of course, you'll need to know where to go sign--it's not so well advertised.  And God forbid your baby is getting adopted in a different state, then first you have to figure out which state.  Good luck getting that all accomplished in a short time frame.


Good luck indeed.

# 22: PLEASE KEEP YOUR BABY!

PAGE # 22

Saturday

12/10/11
10:00 am


My good friend, Tracey, who is also an adoptive mom, wanted the latest update.  I sent her the following text message:

The social worker spoke with Kendra over the phone.  She said Kendra sounded very put together, asked thoughtful questions, etc.  Kendra said at first that she only wanted to see the baby briefly after the delivery, but now thinks she should spend time with the baby to say goodbye.  She doesn't know what to do with her two boys.  Social worker said they should come to the hospital to meet the baby, take pictures with her, and meet us too.  Tom and I really thinking that there is no way she can give up her baby.  Can you imagine her taking pictures with the baby and her two boys?  There is no way the mom is going through with this!  

Tracey wrote back:

Ricky's birth mom took plenty of pics with him before she left and spent the night with him at the hospital.  Obviously know that she can change her mind, but any of them can.  It is impossible for us to imagine any of them giving up their kids, but it happens because they know it's best for the baby.  You can't put yourself in their position because you have never been in their position.  I can imagine giving the baby up.  She is 24 and can't afford the 2 kids she already has.  Plus, it's not the husband's baby!

I read Tracey's message a few times, but I wasn't convinced.  Kendra and Johnny (her husband) came from affluent backgrounds--they could definitely afford the two kids they already had.  The problem, financially, sounded more like a potential punishment from Kendra's in-laws. 


Johnny was not the baby's father.  His parents probably didn't want a grandchild around who was not their genetic lineage.  Since Johnny worked for his parents' business, perhaps his job and income were at stake?


Johnny had told us that his parents were not supportive of his reconciliation with Kendra.  They wanted him to divorce her.  But Kendra and Johnny were officially separated when she became pregnant with this baby girl.  They already had two little boys together.  This baby girl had two half brothers!  Even if Kendra's in-laws hated her, had they no compassion for their two grandsons who were about to lose their baby sister?  


I looked at Tracey's text message again.  The following line struck me:


You can't put yourself in their position because you have never been in their position.


This wasn't entirely true.  I had never been in Kendra's exact circumstances, but I did have a "crisis" pregnancy once upon a time.  I was unmarried, 20 years old, and a college junior when I got pregnant.  I was definitely not encouraged to keep my baby.  I did (TJ is now 16), but the hardest thing about that time in my life was not the actual baby--it was the attitude of other people.  I had to summon all my strength and courage to endure the judgment and constant criticism from society.


I felt terrible for Kendra.  How could she summon that kind of energy when she already had two children to care for?  Why didn't her own parents want to help her?  This was their grandchild!  I couldn't understand any of it.  


Tom shared my heartbreak, but was more optimistic:


"Everyone is going to fall in love with this baby girl when she is born.  Believe me, her family is going to beg her to keep the baby!"


We agreed that this would be the best outcome for the little girl.  We talked about giving Kendra some money, as a Christmas present, for her and the baby.  We wanted to help them.  We imagined that we would remain in contact.  Tom was certain that an adoption would take place, just not an adoption of the baby.  He was convinced that Kendra was going to adopt us-- as an aunt and uncle for her baby girl!


We were back to our rescue fantasy.  During earlier times, when Tom and I had casually discussed adoption, we always envisioned ourselves providing a home for a baby who had nothing.  But this baby had a beautiful family!


I read blogs and message boards online, but could not relate to other prospective adoptive couples.  Other couples were literally praying to get the baby--not secretly hoping that the real mom would choose to parent instead.  


"That's because you guys are not desperate," Tracey told me.  "When I was adopting Ricky, I just wanted a baby.  It's all I thought about."


I guess that's why I didn't find any online camaraderie.  I already had two biological children.  Kendra already had two biological children.  I was more psychologically identified with Kendra than with other hopeful adoptive couples--and I felt sadness and confusion.  


If there had been more time.  If this baby hadn't appeared out of nowhere.  If I wasn't racing around to prepare for a newborn--I might have called my former therapist and scheduled some emergency sessions.  


Adoption is portrayed in the media as this wonderful event, but actually it is a time of tremendous crisis.  Adoption always involves loss, trauma, and grief.  It may even involve coercion.  And the transfer of a life, from one family to another, imprints layers of mystery upon everyone involved. 


The image of a stork bringing me a baby was definitely fading away.  

# 20: WHAT'S IN A GIFT?

PAGE # 20

Friday

12/9/11
2:00 pm


Tom and I were rushing around like lunatics.  We had already taken care of criminal background checks, and we still needed to obtain health exams.  The attorney had called earlier to report news from Kendra's latest obstetrical appointment:

"She might go any moment now!  Already 3 centimeters and having lots of those Braxton Hicks contractions!  Get on your list of things to do--no time to waste!"

Our next mission was to get our fingerprints taken.  We had almost arrived at the facility when I received a text message from Paula, the social worker, to inform me that she had scheduled an appointment to meet with Kendra the following Monday.  We sent a flurry of text messages back and forth, and then Paula simply called me.

"This is too much for texting," she said.

During the home study the previous day, I had expressed some concern about Kendra feeling obligated to give us the baby.  What if she changed her mind about keeping the baby, but then felt like she couldn't disappoint us?  I knew of a few people who proceeded with wedding ceremonies, even when they had doubts about the pending marriage, simply because they felt bound by wedding expenses and the expectations of family and friends.  Surely, it was possible that a similar effect could happen to a birth mother?  

"I wouldn't worry about that," Paula had assured me.  "When that kind of thing happens, the emotions are so high--a birth mother isn't going to be concerned about hurting anyone else's feelings."

I also fretted over the issue of birth mother gifts:

"I've heard it is customary to buy a birth mom a gift," I said.  "But what kind of gift?  What is appropriate?  How much money should be spent?"

I asked these questions because I was slightly uncomfortable with the whole notion of buying presents for Kendra.  This was likely on my mind because of my past profession as a clinical psychotherapist--the topic of both giving and receiving items/services to and from a client is one that is debated through graduate school and beyond.  


For example, imagine a therapist, who for whatever personal reason, gives something (say a free session) to a client.  Pretend it's for the client's birthday.  The potential danger is the establishment of a dynamic that renders the client feeling indebted to the therapist.  Moreover, the therapist is typically the person with greater power in the relationship.  


I'm not suggesting that the birth-mother & adoptive mother are dancing to the same tune as the client & therapist; however, the power imbalance is likely similar.  A birth mother is in a crisis situation.  An adoptive parent has resources (adoption is not exactly cheap--remember I was quoted the whopping price of $40,000).  The notion of giving a woman in crisis a gift, in exchange for her baby could be rendered problematic, in my opinion, especially given the power differential.  I did not want Kendra to feel obligated to us in any way.


On the other hand, I did want to give Kendra something meaningful and thoughtful.  I wanted her to have something concrete to hold onto--something that I had chosen specifically for her.  I wanted to give her a connection to me and the baby.  In fact, I wanted Kendra and I to remain in contact after the adoption.  I did not know at that time if Kendra hoped for the same.


So much of the adoption process is speculation and fantasy.  


I had only met Kendra one time.  


I really didn't know her at all.  


But I had already projected a wide variety of relational paradigms upon this mysterious woman.  Just yesterday, I was imagining her as a victim who needed my rescuing (in the form of me convincing her to keep the baby).  Before Kendra had picked us, I imagined her as a 'glorified teenager' who might judge my physical condition since developing multiple endocrine problems. And now, while I chatted on the phone with Paula, during the car ride to our fingerprinting appointment, I was beginning to envision Kendra as my co-mother of this unborn child.  


How many times would I transform this imaginary relationship between the two of us?  Could Kendra and I ever achieve a truer sense of each other?  Did she even want to?  


I wondered what kind of relationship we would mutually construct if given the opportunity to do so.


But I was way ahead of myself.  I was still on the phone with the social worker, discussing birth mother gifts.  

"Sorry Paula," I apologized.  "I'm afraid I didn't hear what you just said."

"A necklace," Paula suggested.  "A necklace is always a great gift.  A lot of couples get something with birthstones as a sentimental gesture."

 I spent the entire following week trying to pick the perfect necklace.  


The gift should have been the easy part.  When I asked Tracey how they chose a gift for their adopted son's birth mother, she shrugged:

"I can't remember," she said.  "I think we picked it up at the mall right before we went to take Ricky home."

I should have known then, that if I was struggling profoundly over this one decision--I couldn't even pick out a freaking necklace!--I probably had no business in the world of adoption whatsoever.  


The decision making was only going to get tougher. 

# 19: SHAME, GUILT & PLAIN OLD SELF-LOATHING

PAGE # 19

Thursday

12/8/11
12:50 pm


The social worker arrived ten minutes early.  I was in my bedroom when I heard TJ, our 16 year old, open the front door.  I hurried into the foyer and introduced myself.  

"It's great to meet you, Paula."  I offered her water and led her to the dining room table.  "My husband ought to be home in a few minutes.  Should we wait for him?"

"I need to interview each of you anyway, so we can just start with you first," Paula suggested.

"What about me?" TJ asked.  "You need to interview me too, right?"  

 "Sure," Paula replied.  

 "I was in the delivery room when my sister, Sara, was born," TJ explained.  "And I've been helping take care of her ever since.  Especially when my dad has to travel for work.  That's when she really looks up to me like a father.  So, you see, I'm not just a brother--I'm my dad's understudy!"

"Well, then, I definitely need a full interview with you too," Paula smiled at TJ.

"Okay then, let me know when you need me!" TJ went to his room.

I liked Paula immediately.  She was warm and friendly, easy to speak with, and had a quick sense of humor.  She thoughtfully answered my questions and I never felt judged.  She was able to interact in a way that was personable and engaging, but still maintained appropriate boundaries.  

"How do I know Kendra really wants to do this?" I asked.

"Well, you can never know for sure.  There are birth moms who change their minds after delivery."

"No, I mean, how can I know she isn't being coerced into this by her husband or in laws?"

"That's part of my job, Jennifer," Paula assured me.  "After I leave here today, I'll be scheduling an appointment with Kendra too.  I'll be making sure that this is her plan, and that no coercion has taken place." 

"It's just that I don't understand why she is doing this," I explained.  "I mean, I'm so happy she picked us.  But I can't understand why she is doing this, so it just seems like maybe someone is forcing her into this?  You'll make sure and get back to me?"

Paula nodded.  "Yes, I will make sure.  I won't be able to share what Kendra talks about specifically.  That part is confidential.  Just as I am here to help you and your husband through this, I'm here to support and counsel Kendra as well," Paula said.  "But I can give you my overall general  impressions, just not the specifics."

I was comforted on multiple levels:  Paula would be looking out for Kendra's needs and providing support.  I was grateful that Paula would investigate whether Kendra's decision was self-initiated.  And...I trusted her because she promised not to breach confidentiality or make ethical violations.  This was in great contrast to the attorney, who had already revealed the birth father's identity to me.  I am not the kind of person who likes getting information on the sly; in fact, such proceedings induce anxiety in me and disable my ability to trust.


Tom arrived soon thereafter and Paula completed all the forms pertaining to each of us.  We had to answer questions about our financial capacity to support another child.  Provide information about our own families of origin.  The kind of stuff I expected.  Toward the end of the home study, after these more concrete details were ironed out, we had time to explore the psychological impact this adoption process was taking on us.  One of us, probably me, brought up our rescue fantasy:

"We just keep thinking that maybe we should be helping Kendra to realize she should keep her baby," I shared.  "I know that sounds crazy, and I know we are totally projecting stuff here, but I think we just feel so bad for Kendra."

Paula remained quiet.  She waited for me to continue.

"We just don't know how we can take her baby away from her!  How can we take home her baby and cause her so much pain?"  

The social worker looked me straight in the face and said:

"Jennifer, this is not your decision.  You and Tom are not making Kendra place this baby for adoption.  This is Kendra's decision.  And you are right--it is likely to cause her pain.  But she initiated this process--not you.  She needs you to be there for her baby.  To honor her decision.  To know that you are going to love her baby and take care of her baby.  That's what is most going to help her through this process."

I considered what Paula was saying.  What was I feeling just then?  Looking back, I think it was shame.  I was so worried about someone else manipulating Kendra into the adoption plan, I myself had completely failed to respect her very autonomy.  In fact, I was practically ready to talk her out of what was probably the most difficult decision of her life!  How could we have been so condescending and judgmental?  So self righteous?  


Paula seemed to read my mind:

"There's nothing wrong with your feelings.  Adoption is complicated.  It's normal to feel bad for the birth mother, even to feel guilty that you are getting a baby due to someone's crisis situation.  But you need to be able to love that baby, without any guilt over this.  I think once you have the baby in your arms, Jennifer, you are going to feel more empowered."

I felt like I needed to sleep for 100 years. 

"I hear you, Paula, I do," I said.  "It's a lot to process in such a short time.  We had talked about adoption, but we weren't even trying to adopt when this opportunity fell in our lap.  Exactly one week ago today, I thought I was going to Disney next week, not bringing home a new baby."

The social worker agreed:

"That is highly unusual.  People are usually waiting for a long time," Paula said.  "The other thing, too, Jennifer, is that you have two biological children.  Some adoptive families have never had a biological child.  But you have.  You know how hard this is going to be for Kendra.  And also," Paula continued, "a lot of adoptive families have already suffered through years of infertility and failed adoptions.  They've suffered so much loss, they might not be thinking about the birth mother as much as that they just want a baby.  It's going to be different for you.  You don't have that type of desperation."

Out of all the reasons we had hoped to adopt, desperation was not one of them.  But this too left me feeling somewhat guilty.  Like I was stealing someone's long awaited child.  I felt bad to take the baby from Kendra.  I felt bad to take the baby away from all the childless couples who were waiting for years.  I was having a hard time feeling good about any of this. 


My husband, on the other hand, had much more positive coping mechanisms.  After Paula left, he grabbed my hands and said:

"You need to stop doubting everything.  We are good people and we are a great family and this baby deserves the best life.  We need to start getting ready for our new daughter.  We've had our share of hard things to deal with, that's for sure.  Maybe we deserve to be lucky once in a while."

And that was the moment I started to let myself fall in love with Baby Lily. 

# 17: THE BABY MAY NOT BE IN MY BELLY, BUT WE'RE ALL IN THE SAME BOAT!

PAGE # 17

Wednesday

12/7/11

11:30 am

Tom and I were enjoying ourselves.  Our meeting was going well.  Kendra was pregnant with our future adoptive child and we liked her!  Her husband, Johnny, was not the bio dad, but he was great too.  I kind of wished it was his baby, but then, we wouldn't be in this situation, about to adopt a baby and all.  Or would we be?

Two married couples, a mystery baby girl in belly, no dying dog, and one adoption attorney:  We all occupied the same space, at the same time, brought together by specific, albeit unusual circumstances, and it started to feel, well, kind of familiar.  Not that I ever placed a biological child of my own for adoption.  Not that Tom and I ever suffered through multiple separations.  And certainly not that I had ever been pregnant with another man's baby.  But on that day, and under the conditions we were in, we started to view Kendra and Johnny as younger versions of ourselves.  As if they were just like we had once been; only we took a luckier path, and they, through poor luck or other misfortune, ended up in a bit of a mess.

I think it was Tom who asked the next question, and he directed it toward Johnny, who'd been silent thus far:

"So, what kind of work do you do?"

Johnny sat up taller.  He liked this topic.

"I work in my family's business.  Since I was a kid," he replied.  He gave a detailed description of his responsibilities and latest accomplishments.  

"Tom works in his family's business too!" I interjected.

And with that, the two husbands began an engaging conversation.  I heard mention of 'career goals' and 'entrepreneurship,' but Kendra and I were focused on our own exchange by that point.  

"Was it hard for you to find other friends?" she asked me.  "I mean, other young mom friends?"  She was referring to the fact that Tom and I had also been very young parents (once upon a time).

I laughed, remembering how other moms often mistook me for TJ's nanny or babysitter.

"Yeah, it kind of was," I said.  "Not that many people have kids in their early 20s nowadays. I was always the youngest mom everywhere I went."

Kendra was nodding her head.  "Yeah, I don't even know how to talk to the other moms!  I feel like they're looking down at me."

I was encouraging:

"Kendra," I said, "if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that everyone is feeling like she is the odd woman out.  I know plenty of moms in their late 30s who complain about Mommy & Me classes feeling like the social equivalent of high school all over again.  You just have to be friendly and put yourself out there."

Kendra was listening closely.

"Look," I continued.  "Tom and I have friends of all ages.  Of course, we have friends our own age, and some are even younger now.  But when we were young like you guys, raising a kid, we had no friends our age with kids.  But we made it our business to make friends with other parents.  We're still friends with those people.  We were going to 40th birthday parties in our early 20s, but those were the people we had the most in common with.  You don't ditch your other friends, you just wait for them to catch up.  And they will.  I promise."

Kendra glanced over at her husband, who was saying something to my husband.

"Sometimes I just feel like I missed out on stuff, you know?" she said.

I nodded.

"I see my friends going out, and..." 

"They're just out looking for what you already have," I assured her.  "In less than ten years from now, it's going to be totally different.  It's worth it.  Growing up before everyone else.  You'll see."

Tom and I looked over at each other.  After 16 1/2 years of marriage, I could tell we were both thinking the same thing:  Had the universe selected us to help this couple?  Were we supposed to help them decide to keep the baby?  

We discussed this shared rescue fantasy later, during our car ride home from the attorney's office.  Not only was I correct in reading Tom's mind, but by the time we arrived home, we each had the other convinced that our role was to help this couple keep the baby.  Of course, we wanted the baby if no one else did.  But in all honesty, at that time and in hindsight too, we always had some hope that Kendra would choose to keep her baby girl.

"We could stay in touch with them!" Tom suggested.  "Be like extra grandparents for the baby!"

"We're not that old!" I argued.  "Maybe we could be the baby's Godparents or something like that."

"You think they really liked us, right?" Tom asked.  

"Yes," I said.  "I definitely felt a connection."

to be continued...

# 16: ARE YOU OUR BABY'S MOTHER?

PAGE # 16

Wednesday

12/7/11

11:00 am

Shelley, the adoption attorney, welcomed us into her office.  Tom and I sat down and waited.  I looked for the dog, but didn't see him anywhere, so I browsed through the saved photos on my iPhone.  I was trying to find some good pictures of our family.  Shelley had recommended bringing in some photo albums, but I didn't want to reveal any identifying information (all of my photo albums have captions, etc.).  I had already provided the hastily made Shutterfly photo book--that and some cell phone pics would have to suffice.

"She's bringing her husband," Shelley stated.  "Kendra phoned a little while ago to say he'd be joining us."

I was surprised.  I couldn't imagine being him, and meeting us, while his wife discussed the adoption plan for another man's baby.


When Kendra and her husband arrived, Shelley went to greet them in the waiting area and quickly escorted them into the office.


Kendra was adorable.  She wore a simple black maternity dress and was all belly.  She was not exactly my younger twin, as Shelley had sworn, but we did share the same overall coloring:  dark hair, dark eyes, fair skin.  She had some freckles too, very slight, that painted an aura of sweetness.  She looked like a maternity model, but not the flashy, 'pregnant in heels' type.  She looked like she fell out of a Laura Ashley catalog.


Tom and I stood up to greet her and shake hands.  I think I hugged her, but I'm not sure if I was that bold.  Maybe the hug was only at the goodbye part.


Kendra's husband, Johnny, was just behind her.  He gave a warm nod, shook our hands, and sat down beside his pregnant wife.  He was dressed casually:  khakis and a polo shirt, a pair of flip flops.  He looked like a kid to me.  Johnny was quiet for at least the first half of the meeting.  He sat with his hands clutched between his knees, gaze aimed downward, one foot tapping the floor.  He looked like any waiting husband does--as if  he were sitting in a department store while his wife tried on clothes.  


I had a lot of questions, but the attorney was talking; I assume she felt the need to navigate both couples through any potential awkwardness:


"I've done this over 2,000 times!" she reminded us.  


I resented the lawyer's presence and wanted to go ahead with my own agenda (like make sure that Kendra wasn't being coerced by anyone, had received crisis counseling, etc.).  I was worried for her.  


But we didn't get to the serious topics just yet.  Kendra had brought a large photo album from her own childhood, complete with images from the newborn stage through her adolescence.  She narrated some family history as Tom and I turned the album's pages.


Of everything she shared about her family's background, the most interesting detail was that Kendra's mom had been adopted (that is, Kendra's mother was raised in an adoptive home).  I found this bit of information reassuring.  Since Kendra already had a frame of reference for adoption, it seemed to make more sense that she might choose adoption for her own, unplanned child.  I didn't think it would make giving her baby away any easier, but maybe the choice was available to her, more so than it might be to someone else, simply because her own mother was the product of an adoption placement?


After viewing pictures of Kendra's childhood, she presented us with professional portraits of her two boys:  Alex (age 5) and Logan (18 months). 


"They're so cute!" I exclaimed.


Kendra started to cry a little.


"Don't worry.  It's not me.  I'm not worried about me," she wiped tears from her face.  "I'm just really worried about Alex.  He doesn't understand why we can't keep his baby sister."


I was with Alex.  I really didn't understand it either. 


Kendra pulled herself together quickly.  "Do you guys celebrate Christmas?" she asked.  "I want the baby to celebrate Christmas."


I pulled out my phone.  I had a picture of last year's Christmas tree surrounded by tons of presents.


Kendra smiled.  "That looks like your mom's tree!" she exclaimed, referring to her mother-in-law.  She showed the picture to her husband.


I was feeling very sad for her.  And for her two little boys who wouldn't get to grow up with their sister.


Kendra gave me back my phone.  I showed her some pictures of our two kids:  TJ and Sara.  I felt like I needed to share something of ourselves.  How could she just give her baby to us without even seeing the baby's future siblings?


We chatted a bit more about the holidays.  About all our kids.  For a little while, it felt like we were making new friends, not planning the exchange of a life.  I even forgot that the attorney was still sitting there.  


It turned out, Kendra and Johnny had a lot in common with us.  At least it seemed that way at the time.     

# 8: IS SOMEONE FORCING BIRTH MOM INTO THIS ADOPTION PLAN?

PAGE # 8


Tuesday

12/6/11

10:09 am

Was Kendra, the birth mother, open to meeting us?  Our friend, Tracey, was curious too.

I sent Tracey this reply via text message:

Not sure if she will meet us.  Tom and I are worried that she might be getting coerced by her husband (not same man as birth father) and by her parents.  The attorney told us that Kendra is very worried about her 5 year old who is expecting this baby sister.  I mean, she already has 2 kids.  I don't know how she can go through with this.  If she doesn't, that's fine.  Of course!  But we are worried she will follow through out of coercion and then be traumatized.  I think it is a positive sign if Kendra requires meeting us.  Or maybe she wants a closed adoption because it is too painful for her?  I don't know.  I don't have any experience with this yet.  We are meeting with the attorney at 3:00.  I am feeling bad for the birth mother and her 2 boys who have been anticipating a baby sister.  I am strange.

Tracey texted me back:

I felt really bad for Ricky's birth mom too.  Being a mom, how can you not?  It is sad for her.  It's the worst thing she can go through.  I remember thinking that it was such a happy moment for us, but so sad for her.  It will be sad no matter who you adopt from.  There is no perfect situation.

I was thankful for Tracey's understanding.  Thank God I had a friend who had just been through this!  

Adoption triggers complex and ambivalent emotions in all of the involved persons.  The former psychotherapist in me later (much later) recognized that part of my concern for Kendra, was my unconscious attempt to bury any negative feelings I had toward her.  Because the truth, honestly, was that I could not understand.  I could not understand why any mother, in any situation, would give away her own child.  I would rather die.

I was uncomfortable feeling this way.  I strive to have empathy for others.  Plus, if she followed through with the adoption plan, and actually gave us her baby, I'd also be thankful beyond belief.  

How could I reconcile gratitude with contempt?  

I NEEDED to meet Kendra.  I did not want to hate this baby's biological mother.  I wanted to connect with her, to have some sense of what it meant to be her.  And more likely than not, this baby would someday want the same answers to the very same questions.