# 49: A MOST IMPORTANT DETAIL: THE CONTINGENCY PLAN

PAGE # 49

Friday

12/16/11
8:03 pm

It was getting late.  Far too late for our toddler, for Kendra's boys, for all of us. Sara, who had been climbing and jumping alongside Alex only moments earlier was now resting on the floor, her hands clutching at her ear lobes as they always do when she's had enough.  People often mistake this as a sign of an ear infection, but it is merely our toddler's strategy for self-soothing, much like how another child might suck her thumb instead.

"We really ought to get going," Tom nudged me gently.

"Yeah, okay, but maybe we should get some pictures of all the kids together first?" I asked.  This question was not so much for Tom; it was for Kendra.  "Would that be okay?"

Kendra said it would be.  

I took a few quick photos.  These pictures did not include the baby--she was already sleeping peacefully in the bassinet beside her mother.  The pictures included Sara, TJ, Alex, and Logan.  I wanted to capture some physical proof that the adoption, if it happened, was about our two families joining together--not an abrupt separation of the baby from her actual family.

"Okay," I said, after I had put my camera back into my diaper bag.

We exchanged goodnight wishes.  Johnny and his boys escorted Tom and TJ out of the room.  I stayed back for a minute longer.  I held Sara.  

"Kendra," I started,  "I know you said it's not even a possibility, but I have to ask you something."

Kendra looked tired but her eyes opened a bit wider as she listened to my inquiry.

"What happens if Bobby [the biological father] contests the adoption?" I asked.

Kendra did not even pause.  She gave an immediate reply that was clearly uttered and rolled easily off her tongue:

"Then the baby comes back to me."

"Okay," I said.  "I just needed to be clear on that.  Goodnight."

I went over this contingency plan in my mind:

If Kendra chose adoption, and if the biological father contested said adoption, then the baby would go back to Kendra.

It made surprising sense--a kind of circular logic.  I felt like a little path had been carved out of all the uncertainty.  There were only three possible outcomes:

1)  Kendra would choose to keep the baby in the first place.
2)  We would take home the baby.
3)  Kendra would get the baby back if the biological father contested the
     adoption plan.

It felt like the baby had a 2/3 chance of remaining with her family.  And in the slighter 1/3 chance that the baby did not, Tom and I were 100% certain we would raise this child in a way that included her family of origin.

To Be Continued...

# 48: THE BABY'S BIG BROTHERS

PAGE # 48

Friday

12/16/11
Approximately 6:45 pm

We were in Kendra's hospital room again.  Actually, she had been moved into a new room and it was much smaller than the previous one.  There was a lot less seating and a lot less space to move around in, but at least Kendra didn't have a roommate to contend with (as is often the case in the postpartum maternity ward).  Then again, what kind of hospital would bunk a woman with an adoption plan next to another mother and her newborn?  

The room seemed dark to me.  There was some lighting, of course, but the dreariness of this new setting was a stark contrast to the room in which the baby had been born.

We introduced our children to Kendra and Johnny, to their boys, to the new baby.

TJ gave a high-five to Alex.  "What's up buddy?" 

The five year-old flashed him a wide grin.  He was a real cute kid with big eyes, long lashes.  

The 18 month-old was toddling around, his mouth sucking on a bottle of juice.  He was cute too, although something of a mess, with his face sticky from the apple juice.  Or snot perhaps.  Whether he had a cold or had been crying or simply squirting the contents of his bottle directly onto his cheeks, I couldn't tell.  But he was quiet the whole time.

Kendra tried to explain our presence there to Alex:

"These are the nice people who are going to take care of the baby."

Alex looked down.  There was some type of portable video game player on his lap.  I thought he was about to start fiddling with the buttons, that he was ready to start a new game.  But he surprised me by placing the toy carefully on the ground.  Then, he bent down again to get something else off the floor.  I couldn't see what it was he was reaching for--my view was blocked by a heavy chair.  But when Alex finally raised the shiny gold paper over his head, I recognized it immediately.  It was a crown from Burger King.  

Alex walked over to me, crown in hand.  He stood at my feet, lifted his head up so I could see straight into his brown eyes.  

"Can you please give this to my sister someday?  I want her to have it."

His eyes were full of tears, as were mine. 

"Of course I will," I promised.  "I'll keep it safe for her until she's old enough to play with it and I'll tell her it's from you."

Kendra was blowing her nose.  I needed a tissue too, but used my hand.  I folded the crown and placed it inside my diaper bag.  

Tom raised up the two gift bags, the ones with the teddy bears.  "We have something for you boys too," he said.

"And we brought homemade cookies," TJ added.

There was the usual commotion when young children unwrap gifts.  Plus, the chomping of gingerbread men.

"A teddy bear!" Alex exclaimed.

Sara, who had been darting around the room the whole time, ran to pet the bear too.

Out of another bag popped Logan's bear.

"Two teddy bears!" shouted Alex.

"Actually, there will be three teddy bears," I said to Alex.  "Your baby sister is getting one too, so all three of you will have matching bears," I explained.  

The idea of three matching bears occurred to me on the spot--I hadn't actually ordered a third bear for the baby yet.  But it must have been a fairly good idea because Kendra smiled and said:

"You hear that, Alex?  You're all going to have matching teddy bears.  Matching with your baby sister's bear too."

I imagined that someday, the three siblings would be reunited, teddy bears included.  

We all ate some more cookies.  Tom and Johnny took the small children to play in the lounge down the hall.  Sara was happy to run after Alex, while Logan stumbled along after them both.

When the room cleared, Kendra asked TJ if he'd like to hold the baby.

"Okay," he said.

"Sit in that chair," I instructed before passing the baby from Kendra to my teenager.

"TJ is great with babies," I bragged.  "He was in the delivery room when Sara was born," I added, feeling like I probably had already shared this fact with Kendra during one of our earlier conversations.

TJ was cuddling the infant.  I had hoped to have some time alone with Kendra again, but TJ was looking pretty comfortable.  It turned out a good thing, having TJ there with Kendra and I, as he was able to discuss the adoption plan with the kind of careless freedom only an adolescent possesses.   

"Wow, this must be so hard for you," TJ said.  

Kendra nodded.  "Yeah, but it's what I want for her.  I'm doing this because I love her so much."

I didn't know it then, but this type of explanation is common in adoption:

I'm placing my baby for adoption because I love her enough to do so.

It would be selfish of me to keep her.

I want her to have a better life.

Do these phrases spring forth spontaneously each time a new baby is handed over for adoption?  Or is the story more scripted?  Maybe these ideas get implanted by the adoption workers into the birth mothers' minds?  I can't know for sure, but it definitely seems like part of the adoption rhetoric. 

TJ was all ears that night.  He listened to Kendra with a mixture of seriousness yet casual ease.  I realized that the two of them are not all that far apart in age.  In fact, TJ is closer in age to Kendra than I am.

Later, TJ would tell me that Kendra was the strongest woman he'd ever met.   

But that night in the hospital, I wasn't certain of anyone's degree of strength.  I wasn't certain of anything at all.

The baby started to cry.  

"I think she's hungry," TJ said.  "I can feed her if you want," he offered Kendra.

"That's okay," Kendra said.  "I'm actually breastfeeding her," she added softly.  "I want her to get the colostrum.  I didn't know if I should tell you that," Kendra looked at me with an almost apologetic expression.  

"I think that's great," I replied.  And I did.  I also thought this indicated that Kendra might be changing her mind.

To Be Continued...

# 47: "WAS THE COOKIE TIN TOO FULL OR TOO EMPTY?" IT'S AN OFFENSIVE QUESTION IN THE CASE OF ADOPTION, BUT THE TRUTH IS, IT DID COME UP...

PAGE # 47

Friday

12/16/11
Approximately 6:00 pm






We were on our way back to the hospital.  This time, we took TJ and Sara with us too, along with some gifts, but not with the necklace intended for Kendra.  I had finally purchased something a few hours earlier, but I was not about to present it to Kendra just yet.  That felt plain wrong as she hadn't actually signed off on the adoption and might still change her mind.

The other gifts included some cookies and a couple of teddy bears.  I hadn't known what might be appropriate to give Kendra's two little boys, and the social worker had suggested toys, but just any plastic contraption found at Toys R Us seemed impersonal and cold.  I had settled on Vermont Teddy Bears:  they're warm and cozy and last forever.  The company will even repair them if needed.  When the bears arrived at my home, they came in one big cardboard box.  I was a little annoyed--I had envisioned a separate gift box for each bear, and I ended up placing either bear in separate gift bags, which was a shame as the box was really cute.  It even came with a cut-out "air hole" so the bears could breathe easy during shipment.

I had written out a small gift card for each boy.  The cards read something like the following (I can't recall the exact wording):

Please hug me if you are ever feeling sad!

In retrospect, I think those notes were rather depressing, and the bears should not have come with any instructions at all.  I was trying to fill the boys' arms with something to hold, if not a baby sister, for when they were sad about losing that sister, because I was certain that they would be.  Those bears were a poor substitute for human life, cute as they were, but I could think of nothing else.  I imagined Alex and Logan clutching their bears, at some later point in time, as they cried silently in their beds.  At least the 5 year old.  The 18 month old probably wouldn't miss his little sister at all; well, at least not right away.  But they would both likely miss her forever, especially if Kendra decided to have no future contact with us.   

In addition to the two bears, I had selected a bunch of Christmas cookies--the ones my mother had made with the children over the last several days.  There were chocolate chips and butter cookies and of course, the gingerbread people, all of whom were now clothed in full frosting.  I had tried to pick the prettiest ones, not the sloppy ones decorated by Sara or TJ.  I chose the ones hand-painted by my mom, the only family member with any talent for artwork.  

I had stood in the kitchen, carefully placing the cookies into a tin, while my mom peered over my shoulder.

"No!  Not that one!" she exclaimed as I tried to kidnap one of her loveliest characters:  a gingerbread girl with a pretty white dress and red hat.  "I want that one!" 

"Fine," I said, as I quickly grabbed a larger cookie frosted in green overalls with white buttons.  

My mom was about to protest again; I could sense it in her body language.  She loomed over the cookie tin, as if I were about to give away her actual grandchild--not a bunch of gingerbread people mixed with other, non-anthropomorphic cookies.   

"You're taking too many!" she exclaimed followed by a large sigh.  "Come on, there's not going to be anything left for the holidays."

My mom removed a few of the cookies from the tin.  I took them back.  We volleyed the cookies several more times.  I won and threw the cover down upon the tin before she could get back another one.

"Kendra might be giving us her baby!  Her own flesh and blood!  You're getting another grandchild  for Christ's sake!  I think we can spare a few more cookies."

I was upset.  Not so much about mom's reluctance to part with her baked goods--but with the fact that she was counting cookies when the future of a little baby was at stake.  If Kendra chose adoption, would our extended family, my mom included, love her the same as  they love TJ and Sara?  Would we be able to love her like our own?  It seemed like we could; indeed, I love my husband and we are not genetically related.  But, I started to worry.  I worried that the rest of our family--our parents and siblings (the baby's maybe adoptive grandparents and aunts and uncles) might not develop real love for the baby girl.  I was thinking about this on the ride to the hospital, when TJ moved my attention to more immediate matters:

"What am I supposed to say to her?" he asked, referring to Kendra.

"Just be yourself," I said.

"She's really nice," Tom added.  "I don't think you're gonna be uncomfortable at all."

"This is weird," TJ said.

And it was.  

There's simply no natural way to prepare for an adoption.  It is, by its very nature, unnatural.  

When we got to the hospital, TJ carried the two bags with the bears.  I held the cookie tin.  Tom carried Sara.

"Where we go-in?" Sara asked as we boarded the elevator.

"In the elevator," I told her.

"But where we go-in?" Sara asked again.

"To meet a baby and her family," I explained, unsure of how to tell my toddler about our maybe baby.  "But the baby might come live with us and be your baby sister.  We don't know yet."

But it didn't matter what I said then, because the elevator was already wide open and Sara had jumped out of Tom's arms.  She ran down the hallway.  And we chased after her, forgetting all about Kendra's baby for a split second, just long enough to make sure we didn't lose sight of our toddler who was sprinting away from us.

To Be Continued...

# 46: ADOPTION YIELDS INFINITE QUESTIONS & MIXED EMOTIONS

Adoption:  An Exercise in Battling Mixed Emotions

PAGE # 46

Friday

12/16/11
Approximately 1:00 pm

We left the hospital after eating lunch with Kendra and Johnny.  It was a quiet affair, except for when Johnny showed us some pictures of their two sons on his iPad.  I was relieved that the food filled any opportunity for more conversation. My head was spinning and I really needed to be alone with Tom.

As soon as we got in the elevator and the door closed, I started talking rapidly, as if the short descent down to the lobby was my last chance to say anything further on the matter of the adoption.  

"Oh my God, Tom, the way Kendra described Bobby [the biological father]...she said her dad bought a gun because of him!  What are we going to do?"

"Wait till we get in the car," was Tom's response.

We hurried out of the hospital, back through the parking lot.  Once inside the car, I quickly filled Tom in on all the details of my conversation with Kendra.

Tom did not seem afraid.  "Look," he said.  "I got to hear Johnny's side of the story.  It doesn't sound like Bobby wants this baby.  And we've been judgmental of Johnny, expecting him to want to parent the baby.  He's struggling real hard with this.  He told me that he has pretty much no one to talk to about this.  His parents don't want him to stay married to Kendra.  His friends think he's a total idiot for standing by her after she just delivered another man's baby."

"But they were separated when she got pregnant!"

"I know, but still, think of it from Johnny's point of view.  This is a really rough situation for their marriage.  I don't think we can truly understand what they're going through."

"But what about the bio dad?"

Tom shook his head.

"Look, he hasn't done anything to show any interest in parenting this baby.  He could have called the attorney by now.  And I'm not so sure that he's as dangerous as Kendra makes him sound.  For all we know, she's doing this to save her marriage, but has convinced herself it's all to save the baby from Bobby.  Maybe that's what she tells herself in order to go through with the adoption plan."

I thought this over.  It was possible that Kendra was utilizing some unconscious defense mechanism in order to carry out the adoption plan.  But how could we know? 

"We can't know the inside of Kendra's marriage and we can't know the inside of Kendra's mind," Tom continued.  "I still don't think she's going to go through with it, but in case she does, we'll be there to take care of the baby."

"She'll never go through with it.  She can't.  Maybe if she felt more secure in her marriage, maybe then she wouldn't be doing this?  I mean, Johnny is taking the two boys away for Christmas.  With his parents and without her!  Do you know how terrible she feels about that?  She told me all about it when you were getting lunch."

"I talked to Johnny about that," Tom replied.  "He's changed his mind.  He agrees that he shouldn't leave Kendra alone for Christmas."

I felt a jolt of relief for Kendra, as if this small change in plans was enough to defeat all the misery and loss associated with the pending relinquishment of her baby.

"I still think it's her in-laws," I stated.  "I think they're financially dependent on his family business."

"We can't know for sure."

"This could happen to anyone, you know.  This could have happened to us!  I was the same age as Kendra when we were most vulnerable--when your parents hated me."

"They didn't hate you.  They just didn't understand what you were going through."

"They didn't believe me!"

I was referring to the first time I was hospitalized for severe PTSD flashbacks of childhood abuse.  I had been overwhelmed at the time--and my in-laws did not believe the truth of my childhood.  I did not speak with them for nearly a year.  Our marriage almost didn't make it.  What if Tom and I had separated at the time?  What if I had become pregnant with another man's child? 

Readers of my blog often remark that my empathy for Kendra was somehow remarkable given my status as a prospective adoptive parent.  But really, I felt like I was witnessing some younger version of myself:  a woman in a desperate situation where her husband's parents treated her like a piece of shit.  It made me crazy.  I wanted to save Kendra from all of it, but I didn't know how. 

"We need to go to the store," I said.

"What for?"

"We need to pick out a necklace."

"I thought you had taken care of that already."

"It's harder than you think," I replied.  "I don't know what to give to Kendra.  I can't figure it out.  I can't figure any of it out."

Tom slowed down the car.  We were at a red light.  I remember the intersection.

"We're doing the best we can," he said.  "We'll find a necklace."

"Okay."

"Jen, you need to stop feeling so bad about this.  If Kendra gives us her baby, you need to be a mother to that little girl.  You can't go around feeling terrible--it won't be fair to the baby."

I shifted in my seat, considered what Tom was saying.  

I tried to stop worrying about Kendra.  I tried allowing myself to feel excited about the prospect of a new baby in our home.  A little sister for TJ and Sara.  

It felt a bit like trying to live with a multiple personality disorder.  It seemed impossible to integrate my sad feelings for Kendra with any joyful ones about growing our family through adoption. 

And then there was my fear of the biological father too!

"Enough with that," Tom said.  "I really think your anxiety is getting the best of you.  You can't let TJ or Sara hear you talking like that.  You're going to scare them.  They need to feel positive about all this, not terrified."

Tom was right.  I needed to get a grip.  We'd be taking our kids to the hospital later that evening, to meet the baby and Kendra's two sons.  I was looking forward to both families mixing together.  

"Let's go get a necklace," Tom said.  "Everything will be alright."

To be continued...   

# 45: JENNIFER'S LETTERS

PAGE # 45

Saturday
7/28/12
Late Afternoon


Dear Jennifer of December 2011,


I am writing from the future too late, but lost time is no excuse for further procrastination. And though this note cannot stop the events as they pertained to the adoption of Baby Lily, well then, perhaps it can prevent some other ignorant prospective adoptive parent from falling prey to similar grievances.


Jennifer!


You will not believe what I am about to tell you:  After so much worry as to whether Kendra was getting coerced into an adoption plan, YOU will feel coerced into an adoption plan.


A few hours after Baby Lily's birth, Kendra will tell you alleged stories about the birth father and you will become frightened of him.  You will believe these stories without question, at least for some time, because they will help you reconcile your own ideas about motherhood (how could anyone give up her baby?) with Kendra's decision (giving up baby equals saving baby).  Without Kendra's tale of terror, it will be near impossible for you to fathom Kendra's choice of adoption for her newborn.    


Unfortunately, as the tale of terror convinces you that Kendra has a valid reason for choosing adoption, the tale of terror will also terrorize you.  You will feel manipulated and lied to, as the adoption attorney certainly did not depict the birth father to be quite as threatening as Kendra will describe.


You will feel bad for both Kendra and her baby and want to help them, but you will also feel some resentment toward the whole situation--you, who have worked so hard to overcome a family history of abuse, will find yourself thrown into the domestic violence drama of total strangers.  You will want to run away, but because you made a commitment to Kendra and her baby, you will feel trapped.  A potentially dangerous and definitely volatile situation will collide with your otherwise quiet domestic life, and you will feel obligated to accept it into your arms, your home, your very heart.


You will be blindsided because you will have focused too much on Kendra's well being.  You will fail to consider your own vulnerability.  No--you will consider it, but far too briefly.


You will feel like you must take care of Kendra's baby, even though the situation with the birth father scares you.  You will feel like it's too late to back out.  And you will want to protect Baby Lily from any danger.  


You will take Baby Lily home and you will love her.  And even after that, the adoption attorney will victimize your entire family with more lies, manipulation, and emotional blackmail.  You will have to make very hard decisions without ever knowing the truth.  You will be morally tested and it will hurt.


You will wish it never happened at all.  


But it will happen.


And though it will be too late for this letter, you will write it anyway.


In fact, it will be too late for all of you.  At least one person will become lost.  And at least one person will not survive.  Your own brush with grief will be minimal, relatively speaking.


It will happen.


You must write of it.


Sincerely,
Jennifer of this very moment in time

# 44: ALL ALONE WITH KENDRA & SCARED OUT OF MY WITS

PAGE # 44

Friday

12/16/11
Approximately 11:50 am 

Anna joined us in the hallway.  She told us we could go back inside, the nurse was finished.  Mike said goodbye--he'd be back later--and Anna decided to leave as well.  When Tom and I reentered Kendra's room, it was just the four of us:  Kendra, Johnny, Tom and I.  Plus the baby of course.


Tom noted the time and offered to buy lunch for everyone.  He invited Johnny to go with him, and then it was just me, Kendra, and the baby.


Just before he left, Tom gave me a peck on the cheek and a quick wink.  This was my chance to be alone with Kendra:  no attorney, no Johnny, neither of Kendra's parents.  This was my opportunity to make sure no one had coerced Kendra into this adoption plan.  The social worker had claimed she made sure of that--but I needed to know firsthand if Kendra still felt the same way now that the baby had arrived.


We talked casually at first.  Mostly about how she was feeling physically from the labor and delivery.  I don't remember how I asked the question exactly.  I was very intimidated to do so (because I also did not want to upset or insult her; remember, the social worker had warned me to respect Kendra's decision), but I distinctly recall Kendra's reaction to whatever it was I specifically asked:

"I'm doing this to protect her from Bobby!"  Her arms flew up in the air as she referred to the biological father, then dropped back down to wipe the tears falling from her face.  "I'm doing this to protect her from him!"

I handed Kendra some tissues.

"Do you know that my dad has a restraining order against him too?  He bashed up my father's car windows!  My dad hates him!  My dad even bought a gun because of him."

Kendra sobbed into the tissues, blew her nose.  I listened to all this and began to feel utterly terrified.  If Bobby was so dangerous, why was it any safer for me to take his baby home?  I had been concerned about the birth father's potential for violence previously (when first learning that Kendra had a restraining order against him), and Shelley, the adoption attorney, had said the following:

"Oh, it's not like that.  I think she [Kendra] is the kind of woman who provokes men.  I mean, I think they provoke each other.  It was just that kind of relationship--very dramatic, very emotional.  He's not dangerous!  They both drove each other crazy!"

That had been the attorney's opinion on the matter.  Now, I was hearing a less benign account from Kendra herself:

"He wanted me to get an abortion!  I told him I was totally against that and he called me a cunt!  In front of his parents too.  They don't even know how to handle him.  I think they're afraid of him too.  They just sat there while he tore me apart."

"That must have been awful for you."

"And when I was 6 months pregnant, he punched me right in the stomach!  That's when I ended it.  He grabbed me by my hair and punched me straight into my stomach.  I had to go to the hospital and thank God the baby was okay.  But I called the police and I'm pressing charges and I got a restraining order against him.  I told his parents how he hit me and they didn't even believe me.  But I think they just don't know what to do with him.  He's a terrible, terrible man and I need to keep her [the baby] away from him."

"I'm so sorry that he hurt you like that, and Kendra, I hear you saying how scared you are of Bobby," I said.  "But Shelley told me that legally, Bobby has no right to the baby because you are married to Johnny.  So technically, you could keep her and Bobby has no say, right?"

At this question, Kendra seemed a little defensive and I thought maybe I had pushed too far.

"I want her to have a good life!  She deserves to have a good life!  She needs to be protected from him!"

I was beginning to feel a little scared myself.  No--I was downright horrified.  If this woman was giving away her own flesh and blood because of Bobby, then it seemed he must be truly life-threatening.  I began to think that Bobby might be capable of murder.  It was the only plausible explanation for why Kendra would choose to give away her baby girl--her sweet, beautiful, perfect baby girl.  She wanted to protect her newborn, as well as her other two children.  And herself.  It was making sense.  Miserable, dreadful, gut-wrenching sense.


But!


What anxiety!


Bobby lived only about a half hour from us.  The attorney had accidentally let me see his name on one of the documents.  How could I be certain that Bobby would not find out our names?  I imagined him coming to get back his baby, and shooting my entire household in the process.  My imagination is vivid.  It was like a movie playing in my mind.  I couldn't hide my own panic from Kendra.

"What if he comes after us?  What if finds us and tries to hurt us?"

"He won't," Kendra insisted.  "He's not interested in the baby.  He just wants to mess up my life."

"But you said your dad bought a gun." I could feel my hands shaking.  I think I sat on them.

Kendra seemed calmer than me now.  

"He's all talk," Kendra said.  "He wouldn't hurt you or your family or the baby.  But I need to protect her from the things he does.  From the things he says," she emphasized that last word.  "Plus, he doesn't even want the baby.  Like I told you, he wanted me to get an abortion in the first place."

To be continued...

# 43: "SHE WAS FORCED TO GIVE UP HER BABY"

PAGE # 43

Friday

12/16/11
Approximately 11:35 am 


We waited in the hallway while Kendra was examined by the nurse.  I moved away from Kendra's room and walked down the corridor till I reached some windows.  Tom followed close behind me.  I think Anna stayed in the room with Kendra.  I can't remember where Johnny was at the time.  But Mike, Kendra's father, joined Tom and I.


Mike seemed eager to make conversation with us.  He brought up the adoption attorney:

"That Shelley is one good lady, don't you think?"

I did not agree, but contrary to my typical behavior in instances of differing opinion, I actually kept my mouth shut and let him keep talking.

"You know, I went to high school with her," Mike explained.  "She had been in an all girls' Catholic school but got herself kicked out of there.  So, she ended up in the same school with me."

"So that's how Kendra knows Shelley?  She's your friend?" I asked.

"Well, not exactly.  I did some investigative work for her some years back.  Prior to that, I don't think we'd spoken since high school."  Mike lowered his voice a little.  "I was lucky to know who to call when Kendra decided on the adoption.  Really, I'm very grateful for all her help with this and to you guys too.  You guys seem like real nice folks."

Mike went on to explain that him and Anna were no longer married.  I did not ask when they became divorced, but it sounded like the dissolution of their marriage happened many years earlier.

"Oh, I could not tell," I said.

"Yeah," Tom added.  "You guys don't seem divorced."

"Well, we're still good friends.  I'm remarried now."  Mike took out his wallet and showed us a picture of a very attractive blond woman.  "This is Lori.  She would've been here--she gets along with Anna and Kendra--it's just that this situation is triggering some personal stuff for her."

Mike seemed to want to share more, so I waited for him to explain.  I could sense that we were about to learn something that might make us feel uncomfortable.  And...I could sense that Tom felt it too and was moving away, slowing backing up, making himself very busy with text messages or emails or something.  I, on the other hand, was wide-eyed with curiosity.  Mike continued:

"Lori is real good to Kendra and she would've been here to support her and meet the baby, but, you see, she was forced to give up her baby when she was a teenager.  You know, it wasn't like this.  It wasn't her decision.  Her family made her do it."

"Oh my God!" 

"Yeah, it was a real tragedy for her.  She couldn't come here.  This whole adoption thing is just too triggering for her."

"Oh my God," I repeated.  "I've never heard of anyone being forced to give up her own baby.  How could that happen?"

Mike shrugged his shoulders, tilted his head a bit.  "Back then.  The shame.  The stigma."


At the time, I was not aware of this country's notorious adoption history known as the "Baby Scoop Era."  In just the 1960s alone, about 2 million mothers lost children to adoption.  And of that number, 80% were sent away to special maternity homes.  For more information, please see:


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baby_Scoop_Era

http://www.amazon.com/The-Girls-Who-Went-Away/dp/1594200947

http://babyscoopera.com/

As for Mike's second wife, Lori, I never did meet her.  And as far as I was told, her biological daughter hasn't met her yet either.

***

At some point after starting this blog, I began to analyze the dynamics of Kendra's family as they pertained to adoption.  I've already pondered whether adoption runs in families.  And if Kendra's relinquishment were in any way "encouraged" by her own mother's adoptee status, I cannot ignore the interesting fact that Kendra's father is remarried to a birth mother.


Consider it:


Kendra's parents divorce.

Anna is now in close daily contact with her birth mother.


Mike is now remarried to a birth mother.


If Kendra chose the adoption option, she would become, at least symbolically, just like these other two women.  The act of relinquishment would render her similar to the most important persons in each of her own parents' lives.  Anna had searched for her biological mother for 18 years!  Mike had married a birth mother!  The force was likely unconscious, but given the family history, it's plausible that Kendra was at least partly motivated by a desire to be loved by her parents.  Or at least to become somehow equal with her dad's second wife, as well as her mother's long sought after object figure.  A twisted psychology, for sure, but possible nonetheless.


While waiting in the hallway that day, I really didn't know what Kendra would choose to do.  And I personally hoped she would keep the little girl.  But now, it's hard for me to even use the word "choice" with any sense of real meaning.  Legally, Kendra was fully able to sign off on adoption papers.  But emotionally?  I don't know if Kendra and her baby ever stood a chance against the formidable adoption theme running through the family.  Certainly, Tom and I were ineffective to alter the course of events.


And we were waiting for the opportunity to make sure Kendra wasn't getting coerced into this.  How naive!  I'm not sure exactly when Tom and I decided we were powerful enough to make sure Kendra was okay.  Maybe our ability to balance out each other's superpowers caused us to carry a special arrogance, an over-confidence of some sort.  We thought our good intentions and carefulness would be enough.  


We would be wrong.