The Birthmom Conundrum
A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to attend a support group for birthmoms. At first, I wasn’t going to go. Mainly because I didn’t feel I needed any support. Not from an arrogant standpoint, but simply because I feel emotionally in a good place, I’ve had the chance to reconnect with my son, and there wasn’t anything I was trying to work through (at the moment, lol).
I decided to go anyway, because you never know what you might learn or what new friendships might pop up. It was eye opening to say the least. Several things stood out to me during the two hour meeting. One thing in particular was very clear within the first twenty minutes:
There was a lot of pain, anger, bitterness, unknown, and unresolved within those four walls. It was uncomfortable to be there.
To back up a bit – there always seems to be an air of mystery, judgement, guilt, and awkwardness – on both sides – when finding out someone has placed a child for adoption. I would know from first hand experience. A teen pregnancy at the age of 15. An adopted son who’s now 18. Equals a few years of experience. Which is probably why I was so flabbergasted while sitting in the chair of the group meeting listening to all the other women talk. I, oh so wrongly, assumed most people in my situation would have access to the same things I did.
“All The Feelings”
At first, I felt immensely blessed that I had an awesome support team (mainly my mom and a Christian counselor) to walk through those dark times with me. Blessed I’m able to be open with my husband and his family about my experience. Blessed I’m at a mental/emotional state where I can talk about what happened. Super blessed the adoptive parents stayed true to their commitments.
And then I felt anger. Angry our society has done such a poor job of making these women feel worthy. Angry work places still think they can get away with discriminating against a pregnant woman. Angry these women felt they couldn’t talk about their experience in society. Angry some women have to pay money to either update contact forms within adoption agencies and/or search for their birth child. Angry the vast majority felt like a social pariah despite the fact that adoption has been around in some fashion since 1851!!!!!
Then I felt shame, because as one of those women, I’ve probably contributed to some of the stigmas surrounding us. By choosing not to talk about it and acting like I have something to hide; I add to the mystery, judgement, guilt, and awkwardness. By not being open with those around me I set the precedent for reactions when I do finally tell others. It’s a trend I/we desperately need to break.
In an effort to raise awareness about common themes I noticed women were dealing with at the support group; I thought I’d address some of the elephants in the room! Please keep in mind these are simply my own thoughts, observations, and experiences. Everyone is different and I was reminded just how different each situation can be in a short time.
1. What should you call someone who has placed a child for adoption?
A birth parent, more specifically a birthmom or birthdad. Some people put a space in between the words – either way I don’t care. The important part is being recognized as someone who played a very important role in an adoptee’s life. They may not help raise the child, live with the child, maintain contact with the child, financially support the child, etc. But they are the people that physically formed the child and loved them enough to continue the pregnancy, and in the birthmother’s case, gave birth to the child.
Down the road, if a personal relationship is established between the birthparent and adopted child, it’s up to them to decide what the birthparent should be called. If you hear the adopted child called us by our first name, it’s ok! No need to be weirded out. I understand I’m not my adopted son’s mother in the traditional sense. I wasn’t there for him every day like his adoptive mother was. If I’m writing him a letter or signing a card I usually sign it: Love Peggy/Mom. It’s ok to be both.
2. Is it selfish to place a child for adoption?
People answer this one of two ways. I’m here to say: heck no!!!! The people who think it is, may not fully understand the situation, have probably not been a birthparent themselves, and most likely don’t know a birthparent. Even if you had an “easy” pregnancy – there is nothing easy about forming a child in the womb, carrying the child, giving birth to the child, and then walking away empty handed.
The guilt some of the women in this group felt due to callous and derogatory comments along this line left me wanting to give them hugs and assure them that no, placing a child for adoption is one of the most selfless things a person can do. Our pain is real. Our decision was hard. Yes, we are able to move on in some fashion with our lives. But there are scars and a lifetime of memories we’ll miss out on. Adoption is us giving our child a chance to have what we can’t provide.
3. The Grieving Process
Yes, placing a child for adoption is similar to losing the life of a child. Our grief is tangible. Everyone handles it differently.
For me, the grieving started the day after giving birth to my son. It finally hit home that I would be leaving the hospital with out him. We had formed a bond. I had been talking to him, singing to him, writing letters to him, enjoying his kicks/punches and summersaults for the last several months. I held him as a fresh newborn. Inhaling his scent, memorizing his face, holding him tight to my chest. And after just 48 short hours I had to walk out of the hospital with nothing. I cried for days straight.
It’s been over 18 years since that day and grief has continued to hit at various times. And just when I think I’m healed and everything’s good, something new comes up and triggers hard emotions all over again.
Please don’t ever assume a birthparent is done with their grieving process just because the baby’s already been born or is older or they’re reconnected or whatever. Some of the women’s adopted children were 35 plus years old and they were JUST starting their grieving process. Like any other loss in life – it takes time to grieve.
4. Do birthparents want to talk about it?
Each one will answer differently. Not only due to personality differences but also because everyone is at a different stage of healing. I didn’t want to talk about it at all for the first two to three years. Sure people knew it happened, but I certainly didn’t bring it up. I didn’t want every conversation about it to end with me going through yet another box of kleenex.
Once my son was around eight/ten years old I felt more comfortable talking about it, but by then my group of friends had changed. The ones I felt comfortable talking to knew about it, others didn’t. Besides, it can be a little awkward to introduce yourself like “Hey, I’m Peggy, Nice to meet you, by the way I’m a birthmom!”.
That being said, if someone has questions, I love answering them! I sometimes speak on a birthmom panel for adoptive parent training. I’ve talked to groups of teens and women about it. In my experience, the more I started opening up about it, the more healing I found. It was/is therapeutic.
The experiences of others in the room surprised me as some women haven’t told anyone – and it’s been 20 plus years for them! I can’t imagine keeping something like this repressed for so long. But their own family, society, and their experiences have caused them to stay silent. And that is unacceptable. We should be creating safe places for these women, not shunning them.
5. “Generations” of adoption.
Like everything else there has been an evolution with adoption. I found it interesting how the women who had closed adoptions seemed to be struggling the most. There is something to be said about knowledge is power. Power to assist birthparents in moving on and power to assist others in knowing what the different types of adoptions are.
The Baby Boomers (1946 – 1964) and Generation X (1965 – 1976) most likely only had one type of adoption available: closed. This means you most likely don’t know who the adoptive parents are, where they live, if they have other children, what your child is named, etc, and you do not have any further contact with them.
Half way through the Millennials (1977 – 1995) something called semi-open adoption started happening. Typically, you had the chance to pick out the adoptive parents, have met them, know generally where they live and about their lives, and can make commitments for future contact (such as regularly sent pictures and letters).
The Centennials (1996 – TBD) broadened the scope even more to form open adoption. This usually means you have some form of “in person” contact with the adoptive family. Birthparents sometimes join the adoptive family for birthday celebrations and/or holidays and can have other gatherings with them. They may exchange phone numbers, emails, and be friends on social network platforms. The birthparent almost takes the role of an extended family member.
6. Don’t ever assume!
This may seem like a given, but considering I held many assumptions going into the support group meeting, and was wrong, I figured I’d remind everybody else.
Each woman came to be a birthmom in a very different way. Some were teens, some were in college, some had other children, for some it was their first child. There was a variety of closed, semi-open, and open adoptions – and each of those had their own twists. Some women were able to move on and get married/start a family. Some were frozen in a state of indecision, fear, and the unknown.
Some reconnected with their children and others didn’t. Some had a good experience with their adoptive family and others were misled and hurt. The women who now have other children have had mixed reactions when siblings find out and meet one another.
You just absolutely never know what a person’s story is unless you take the time to sincerely ask and then offer a listening ear. We all share a common thread of being a birthparent, but that is where it ends and the weaving of different paths begins.
7. We need Support!
As mentioned before, the situation doesn’t end after the adoption is finalized (aka:Termination of Parental Rights Hearing). The pain doesn’t cease, relationships don’t automatically go back to normal, memories don’t stop circulating, and scars still run deep. The support group meeting I went to was a first for me. And it’s actually the first time I can remember being invited to one. 18 years after my son was born!!! Why hadn’t I heard of something like this sooner. They’ve apparently existed for a long time. If you hear of something similar – share it! – you never know who it might reach!
Please don’t be afraid to converse with us! If you want to ask questions – go ahead – just be respectful, open minded, and don’t be offended if we’re not comfortable answering everything. It may seem awkward at first, but things generally smooth out, especially if we feel your honest desire to be a friend.
In some ways, our story is a special treasure, a treasure that’s only shared with select few. Usually those we feel most comfortable around and completely accepted by. Want to get in that circle of friends? Be patient, create a positive environment, and most of all withhold judgement. If it doesn’t happen – again please don’t be offended.
Know of a birthparent but don’t know them personally? Pray for them! Know someone personally but not able to help them directly? Find a local support group or adoption agency and see how you can help out there!
Bottom line, when we’re ready to talk, we need a safe place to go and it’s up to us (birthparents and society) to create those safe places. Safe does not equal secretive. So let’s get rid of that stigma, celebrate the birthparents out there, and support them in all areas.
Perhaps then, adoption will become more prevalent, and more people will consider it as an option in a difficult time.
