Dialogue

Discussions are difficult in adoptoland. It's very easy to hurt people's feelings without even knowing that you're doing it, and certainly without intending to. When I first found my way to adoptee and first mother forums, I wasn't aware that "birthmother" was painful for some first mothers to hear. I witnessed debates between first mothers and adoptive mothers over the use of the term "natural." Some of these things are based in respect, and some are personal preferences.

Dialogue is important, but it's hard to sustain in such a loaded environment. People usually are dealing with very deep wounds. Adoptive parents don't want to hear how their children want to meet their first families. First mothers sometimes don't want to hear that adoptees love their aparents. Some first mothers don't want to hear that their surrendered children are potentially angry or sad about being adopted. Adoptees who are fine with being adopted become impatient with those who are struggling with loss, and vice versa. Once the walls go up, meaningful exchanges are done.

I've had my feelings hurt more than little over my many years. I find that when I am hurt I abstain from saying much, especially when I know that further discussion is going to end up in headlong collision between the other person and myself.

For example, I have a classmate from college whom I admire very much. She is intelligent and loving. I've known her a long time. She adopted a daughter some years back, and we were recently talking about what's been going on in my strained relationship with my first family. I began the conversation, rather excitedly, by saying, "I finally got to talk to my mom!" [She knew it was my fmom.] Her reply, "Do you really call her your mom?" Uh, yeah. Why not? She's one of my mothers. I get sick of using prefixes (amom, nmom/fmom) when talking about people, especially when it's clear whom I'm talking about. But her nervous answer, speaking to her own position as an amom, signaled to me that I had to back off from where I was going. At another point in the conversation, I was talking about my brother and how much I hope we can reestablish our relationship. Again, she said, "Do you really consider him your brother?" [For those of you who don't know, I was raised an only child but have a half-brother on my mom's side.] Yep. I don't know if she knows that she hurt me. She probably doesn't. I think I hit on a sore spot of hers, and she triggered my adoptee shut-down response. Take care of others at my own expense. Habits die hard.

In another case, I was following the blog of a young woman who is pregnant and planning to place. She asked for input from adult adoptees, who overwhelmingly encouraged her to parent her child. She didn't like this answer, and grew defensive. Snarkiness and anger ensued on both sides. She shut us down, and only wants to engage with people who reassure her that adoption, while difficult, is the inevitable path for her to follow. I find this sad. Again, it's a defense mechanism, but it does a disservice to all involved.

Adoption usually is the end result of an unhappy story for many different people. Adoption doesn't magically make everything okay for everyone involved. If it did, I would have been able to spend a hell of a lot less money on therapy in the past 30 years and my fmom wouldn't have had to lie to my brother about me or go on anti-anxiety medicine.

Just putting this out there: when adoptions discussions go south, it seems to me that adoptees are the ones who are punished the most. We were acted upon as infants by the adults in the equation. We were treated as problems to be solved and gagged, or conversely as "gifts." What we need and want is the last thing in many people's minds. It sucks to be silenced and invisible when when we open our mouths to say anything vaguely critical. What can we do to change this? Be persistent?