Well before my daughters reached the age of reason (which I mark as that Easter Sunday they refused to wear those adorable matching dresses) their adoptions were a regular part of the daily conversation in our kitchen, right up there with nail polish and ponies and the tooth fairy.  Lucky for us, in our community they were surrounded by children from all sorts of complex, un-matching, created families.  Many of their friends are also adopted.  They attended adopted family picnics at their elementary school.   Now in their twenties, they are in the vanguard of the new generation of adoptees who have grown up with openness-in which adoption is definitely NOT a family secret.

Both girls came into my life as infants, both in closed adoptions.  I was told in both cases that the birthparents chose not to be identified, chose not to have contact. At about the same time as they arrived, I left practice as a civil rights litigator and turned my law practice to adoption, giving me some of the skills it took to identify and locate the birth families, just in case.  It took years, but I did locate the identifying information. Upon entering their twenties, both girls felt ready to make their first contact, and decided that personal letters would be the best sort of overture for them.

If raising children is really the process of guiding them and then, painfully, discovering how to let them go into the world as independent adults, imagine the challenge (especially for a control freak Type A parent) it is to surrender the decision-making around this delicate and potentially hurtful event.  But other than gently suggesting through the years that they might want to take the next step, I had to put this new phase of their lives in their hands, trusting that they would have the skills and knowledge to negotiate the relationships.  Throughout their childhood, I was on my toes, always tuned in for opportunities to discuss adoption whether or not I was ready or had any good answers for them.  In some ways, it is even harder now, as I step into the background having armed them with the information they need to shape their future contact with their birthfamilies.

Fortunately, both girls heard back from their birthmothers and were reassured in a uniquely poignant way that they always were and are loved by those brave and generous women.  The girls now have to find the right path forward, incorporating these new relationships into their lives.

After many years as both an adoption lawyer and an adoptive mother, I know better than most that adoptions can be treacherous.  But our family’s experience is that the gloom and doom and tragedy that so draws readers and viewers to adoption nightmare stories is fast becoming dated.  In this new era, we believe adoption can and should be treated with as much humor as reverence.  We even share a blog with our funny adoption stories.

Adopters, adoptees and birth parents may succeed or fail at incorporating the experience of adoption according to their own personal strengths, weaknesses, luck and effort.  But let us welcome with a smile this new critical mass of adoptees who are enjoying the benefits of the era of openness.

Author and Photo Credit: Paula Mackin, Esq.

This threw everything in to chaos. First off they were expecting a little girl, secondly they weren’t ready and finally this journey of adoption became a reality faster than their brains could catch up. So they made their way down and the worker took my brother who was 8 at the time to come and get me to bring me out to Mom and Dad. This was huge for my brother, he is developmentally challenged and has Cerebral Palsy and the whole idea of change has never been his strong suit. But to this day 35 years later Chris still talks about the day he was able to “get baby Cory.” Things went great, I looked a bit like them, family and friends celebrated. I was a healthy baby boy.

This brings me to the story my mom was telling this young lady. You see in public and to everyone that knew us all seemed like everything was so easy and that I just kind of fit in. But my mom was telling about the uncontrollable screaming and sadness that she would go through at night and how nothing she did or said would calm me down. I wasn’t hungry, didn’t need to be changes, and physically there was nothing wrong. So she would sit there and rock me singing and I’m sure crying along as well. I say that because that’s what I’ve now experienced with my son. They talk about it in adoption education classes but you are never ready for it when it happens.

When we got our little man he was just about to turn 1 he too was a healthy little boy, always smiling always curious and honestly just fit right in with our little family. But a few months after he had come into our family he was just overcome with sadness. We checked his temp, did everything we knew to do but, physically nothing was wrong. Then the tears came, in my time as a pastor I’ve heard these cries before, when a loved one has been lost, when a marriage has broken down, those moments where sadness has overtaken and the only thing we can do is cry out.

So I sat there rocking my son holding him to my chest as we cried together for hours upon hours. It was strange because I understood his pain I had been there so many years before and tough I have no real memory of that time, it just made sense to me. He had to mourn his loss so that we could now move forward. We needed to go through that together so that we could truly bond. He and my wife were already there but it was in that moment and from that point on that I became Daddy. Not just a name on a piece of paper or the guy who pays the bills but Daddy.

As my mom shared that story to the young lady I share mine with you. Stick it out, realize that you can’t and won’t always have the right answers but you made the decision to be there and every day you get to make that decision again.

Written By: Corlin Buettner

Photo Credit: Corlin Buettner

On Jan 3, got a call from a man asking if Annette was there. I said yes and he said, “This is Joey, your birth son!” All I could say is OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG…. We must have talked for hours. The next day my husband and I drove to Redding, CA and met Joey for the first time. It was an experience I will never forget! We brought Joey and his fiance, Heather, to our home where he stayed and visited for a couple of days, meeting the family and just enjoying our time together! Joey then decided he wanted to move closer to us. Two days later he had an apartment here in my town, a job set up and is just as happy as can be!

I have talked to his adopted sister and his adopted Mom. They were both very kind and accepting that we have found each other. I am so thankful to my friend Carol and to many others for their help and support in locating my son…. I do hope that everyone who is looking , finds their loved ones and has such an amazing experience as we have!

Hazel Annette Crouse

Sadly, that was my mindset for quite awhile. And with a toddler and two elementary school kids, I stuck pretty firmly with that. But then everything changed with just one phone call.

One Phone Call, One Emergency

My best friend, Cassie, works at DSS, monitoring foster care cases. At times, Lake and I had thought about becoming foster parents. After all, we have this big old house and lots of love. But we had decided to wait until after Celeste, our youngest, was at least a teenager. We had been through the training and certification already, following the just in case protocol we are so fond of, but after we spoke to the other foster parents, we decided to wait. For a time, we believed that families should not take in foster children until after the little ones were old enough to understand. But Cassie called and told us about an emergency situation.

Maxie, a thirteen year old girl, needed a place to stay quickly. Though I can’t go into details about what all had happened to her, suffice it to say that she was in bad condition and needed a home right away. Preferably someone in the same county. “I didn’t want to call you,” Cassie said apologetically. “But you’ve got to understand that if we don’t find a place for Maxie tonight, she’s going to have to…you know.”

Yeah, I knew where she was going to have to go. And after all that poor girl had been through… As I held the phone to my ear, a thousand thoughts buzzed in my mind. Celeste was still just a baby. She needed full time care. And Devon and Miriam were both old enough to take care of themselves, but how would they feel about having a new sister? And what if something went wrong? Most of the thoughts buzzing in my head weren’t good, and the fact was that I was afraid.

The Final Decision

Even though it was an emergency, I asked Cassie to let me talk to Lake. Together we had to come to a conclusion about this. And after discussing it for over an hour, we decided that Maxie could come stay with us. Despite the challenges, we knew one thing, Maxie needed us now.

Because it was an emergency, most of the formalities passed quickly. When Maxie arrived, she came with her arm in a sling and her gaze on the ground. A thick tension hung in the air. Maxie wore a dirty T-shirt with some faded music group and dingy lounge pants. She kept her lips firmly in a line as if moving her lips might let some of the tears fall out.

After her case worker left, we took Maxie to her room. For a moment, her eyes brightened. The caseworker told us that Maxie hadn’t ever had her own room. She’d always shared it without about four other kids and adults at any given time. Sometimes she hadn’t even had a bed. But that brief look of joy soon faded, and she returned to her stoic expression.

A Silent Hurting Child

Since Maxie was our first foster child, Lake and I weren’t sure what to expect. We knew from the training that it would be difficult. What we hadn’t expected was how awkward it felt. The kids felt the same way. Though they tried to talk to Maxie, Maxie did not want to talk. For the most part, she just wanted to be alone. She seemed convinced that she would only be staying for the weekend, and she wanted as little to with us as possible.

But then, Monday morning came, and surprise to all, Maxie was not able to go home. “The situation hasn’t been resolved yet,” Cassie explained. “Can you keep her for awhile longer?”

“Sure…” I said, glancing into the kitchen. Maxie sat at the table, slumped over her faded pink backpack. My heart broke for the child. The situation just wasn’t getting any better, and even though Maxie refused to talk, I knew she would be heartbroken. That evening I talked to Lake, and we agreed that something needed to be done. Maxie not only needed to know that she was welcome. She needed to know that she was loved and that we were excited to have her here with us. We needed to make this place feel like home.

The Plan

Lake and I talked about the matter at length. Even though Cassie and the case worker all said that Maxie was probably only going to stay for another week or two, we both knew otherwise. Something in our guts told us that she would be with us for a long time. And from the little bit that we had gathered, this dear child needed to know that she was loved and wanted. But how could we show her?

“I know what to do!” I said, jumping up. Surprised, Lake looked at me.

“What are you doing to do?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair.

“Let’s redesign the room. It’s still got that guest room feel to it. We’ll make it feel like her room!” As Lake and I pondered this option, we both decided it was the best one.

At that point, I knew only what the caseworker had told me about Maxie. So far, the girl had not shared a single bit of information about herself. So I went into reconnaissance mode. Maxie had arrived with only one backpack and a duffel bag of clothing and belongings to her name. She took the backpack with her to school, and we had already gotten her some of the supplies she needed. But she had not even so much as told us what colors she liked. I was going to have to guess.

Once inside the plain little bedroom we had set aside for her, I started looking around. It looked far too much like a sterile guest room, lacking any personality or identity. A quick look through her few possessions, however, revealed a consistent love of purple unicorns.

The hunt then launched to finding the perfect bedding set. With Maxie’s artistic abilities, I knew that this had to be as close to what she liked as possible or else it would fall short of the mark. I had recently discovered a site called Vision Bedding. It offered custom bedding for all kinds of bedroom linens and accessories. A quick search for unicorns revealed a wide selection that matched Maxie’s preferences. Within a few moments, I found the perfect lavender unicorn with purple background and ordered an entire set. Curtains, bed sheets, comforter, and banner all were different kinds of unicorns in girlish gem tones.

“Please come quickly,” I whispered. And then I pressed “order.”

As if they heard my prayers, Vision Bedding sent the order straight through. It arrived ahead of schedule but fortunately on a day when Maxie was meeting with her counselor. With some help of a few friends at church, we put her new room. We hung curtains, changed the sheets, put out the comforter, and rearranged a few extra knickknacks that I had picked up from a friend who carves fantasy creatures.

When Maxie returned from school, I felt like a child at Christmas. “Maxie,” I said, standing in the hall. “Come see our surprise for you.” Lake had returned by this time, and he hurried up beside me, his neck straining to catch a glimpse. When he looked at me, I smiled and nodded.

Maxie looked at us as if we were creatures from the planet Mars, her eyebrows raised and her posture slumped. But she shuffled toward the bedroom, curiosity pushing her forward. But her face changed the moment she saw the room.

For a moment, she paused, just staring. Then she wandered into the room. Her face puckered up with tears and her voice trembled. “This is for me?” she asked. “You did this?”

The room looked stunning with the silver unicorn dancing across the purple comforter. It was her favorite shade of purple. Leaning over the bed, she touched the printed unicorn muzzle, smiling. “It’s beautiful.”

“Everything in this room is yours,” I said. “We just want you to know how happy we are to have you here, and that we hope you feel welcome.”

Maxie nodded. For a moment, her lips trembled, but at last, she got out the words, “thank you.”

A Challenging but Good Decision

We’ve had our ups and downs with Maxie. It certainly hasn’t been easy, and the fact of the matter is that the stipend the government gives to help take care of the kids does not cover all of the needs. Celeste, in particular, has taken her time about adjusting, but now, even she latches onto Maxie and enjoys playing with her. It has all been worth it though.

The new space that we created for Maxie was the beginning of a new relationship. While one cannot buy a child’s love and I would never recommend trying, we were able to show her that we cared for her by creating a space that was uniquely hers. It turned out later that one of Maxie’s strongest love languages was gifts. The fact that she was unable to return home grieved her deeply, but that little safe haven and space we made for her in our home was an immense comfort to her.

Lake and I are now taking steps to adopt Maxie formally. That is sure to be another adventure, but most importantly, I am grateful that we did not let our fear rule us. It is not easy being a foster parent while having young children, but it is still possible. And if you can do it, there are many children out there who need you.

Written By: Jade Glass

Did you know that everyone does not like the same things?!?  Yes, I knew that was probable, bio or adopted, kids are all different.  I assumed a child with my DNA would be more likely drawn to the same activities that I was programmed to enjoy, and to some extent that is true, but there have been some surprises as well.  When we adopted I didn’t know what our kids’ preprogramming was and for all our kids I wanted to give them an opportunity to find what they really loved to do.  We have had some success figuring it out (and some “non-successes”.)

One of our 10 year olds I thought we had pegged right away.  He was coordinated, fast and athletic.  My husband played hockey and soccer and I thought our son would be perfect for either.  He tried soccer first (too much running) then hockey (liked it OK but was never that into it) when he was old enough to play football he didn’t express any interest even though a few of his friends were playing.  So we tried Boy Scouts (nope) then swimming (likes to swim but not take lessons).  Finally gave him the Community Ed booklet and told him to choose something, anything, “Karate!”  He started karate this fall and loves it!  Also started playing the saxophone for band and tried-out for the winter musical at his school.  So instead of high-fiving the other parents after a goal we will be standing and applauding, proudly shouting “Bravo!”

As for the other five kids, some have found “their thing” others not so much.  This fall I signed up the two little girls for their first soccer season.  I coached.  I was so excited; they were too…until game time…every week.  You know your kid’s not interested in something when you look for them on the field and find them instead thoroughly enjoying petting a dog on the sidelines. (They’re still young; they may still have soccer in their future… “Or dance” my mother offers.)

So yes, Rasmussen’s are soccer players…and martial artists, saxophonists, actors, gymnasts, readers, singers… and dog enthusiasts.

Written by: Cindy Rasmussen

Photo Credit

1. What physical issues could be contributing to the behavior?
2. Does the child have learning problems such as poor memory, or short attention span that could be contributing to the behavior?
3. Do they have certain over or under sensitivities to light, sound, taste, or movement around them that could trigger what seems to be defiant behavior?

The key is in accepting that their challenges are a direct result of their body and brain dysfunction, and not intentionally “pushing your buttons”.

Written By: Liz Lawryk BSW MSc.H.S. R.S.W. Chief Clinical Examiner, The OBD Triage Institute

There is nothing like that euphoria.

You fall in love.

However, when the child’s health or behavioral challenges surface, an adoptive parent’s imagination can easily drum up dark fears.   While a birth parent worries about the child’s issues, as an adoptive parent, you may also worry about the issue plus the unknown or known history of the adoptee’s background.

You may even hear the haunting voice from a family or friend who was against your adoption, “Why adopt?  You don’t know what that child has in her background.”

This is when you must stay strong.

Separate the facts from fiction.  Your egoic-mind will try to send you on a whirl-wind of worry, but you must only look at the issue presenting itself, without adding a story.

For example, if your child throws a tantrum, your mind may imagine that his temper may get worse as he gets older because someone in his family may have a psychological disorder. “Maybe my child has this disorder too.”

Only deal with what is in front of you, not your imagined story.  This creates more stress and takes away the energy you need to deal with the challenge.  You can’t think with a clear mind if it’s clouded with worry about something that you don’t know to be true.

My Mind Won’t Let Me Rest

The best way to deal with any fear is to look at it.  Suppressing or ignoring a fear only makes the energy stronger.

Thoughts are energy.

When a fear surfaces, ask yourself, “Is this true?”  If it’s not, let it go.

That same fear may come back a number of times, but if you just keep looking at it, instead of running from the fear, you will find that it weakens to the point of dissolving altogether.

Some people find it helpful to keep a journal and write out their fears.

This serves as a great tool to look at the fear, and to get it out of you.  Keeping a journal about your feelings is a wonderful therapy to help you along the adoption journey.  Just be careful not to let it fall into your child’s hands.  They may not understand that your fears have nothing to do with them.

Remember, your child is extremely sensitive.  Many adoptive children are super intuitive because they have been in various placements.  Out of survival, they know how to read the people in charge.

If you come unhinged, your child could become anxious and maybe act out this uncomfortable feeling they are too young to understand.

Be gentle with yourself, and stay calm.  Have confidence that you and your family can work through whatever you are facing with ease.

Written by Janet Alston Jackson

I remember my sweet-sixteenth (the same age of my mother when she had me). My sweet father had planned a surprise party for me; there were bowed gifts, sprinkled cupcakes, and friends and family waiting for me at home. But I was nowhere in sight. Somewhere between Algebra class and the bus stop, I had plunged straight into a dark abyss of despair and self-pity, and wallowed in it. They found me lying in a neighbor’s backyard; face down in the dirt, eyes stained with black mascara, and a stomach full of pink Boones Farm. Oh, I was in trouble, deep dark trouble. I knew from that day forward, my salvation hinged upon finding her.

It took me fifteen years. Fifteen more stinking birthdays to do it, but I prevailed.

The day I met my birthmother was the day that void within me closed forever. Today, birthdays are as they should be: celebrations of life.  Yes, another birthday is approaching, and I’m free from the fear that I will jump into an abyss of my own making. I’m happily awaiting my birthday, and my next, and my next…I cannot wait to hear my family, including my birthmother, wish me another year of happiness. My only regret now: never having said I’m sorry to my dear old dad for being such an unruly teenager! Sorry Daddy.

Written by:  Bunny Christine Arlotti

Photo Credit

Due to my adoption being a closed adoption the only information I had to go on was the details my parents told me about the paperwork that my adoption agency gave them at the time of my adoption (paperwork my birth mother had filled out up to the time of my relinquishment). The adoption paperwork gave me hope since both birth parents stated they did want contact with me in the future. The forms contained a basic family history, but nothing very useful to search for them 20+ years later; I did not even have their last name. I had a real fear that I would never find my birth parents and would not be able to fill that particular gap in my life. While doing research on the process of finding my birth parents, I encountered numerous stories of other adoptees unsuccessful in their searches; some with terrible outcomes. These stories greatly fueled my own fears.

After I turned 18 in the fall of 2006, despite my fears, I began my search for my birth family. Due to laws in Colorado (the state I was born and adopted in) I had to wait until I was 18 to initiate my search. So I contacted the agency that handled my adoption, to get the process started. I was told at that time the only option they had available was to contact the last known address of the parties, it was worth a try so I agreed to it and waited. Within a couple of weeks I received a phone call saying both letters sent out had come back undelivered, I’d hit a brick wall and my heart fell. Being in college at the time neither I nor my family had the funds to pursue a private investigator and my search fell cold.

I had decided that hopefully by age 21 I would have more options available to me and that my birth parents might take up the search making my search easier to find them and vice versa. So right after my 21st birthday I again reached out to the agency I was adopted through in hopes that this time my search may lead me somewhere. I was told they didn’t have a program in place yet to do in depth searches , however, they were in the process of getting certified to do so and if I would wait they would put me on the list to be contacted when their program was in place. I agreed to be put on the list and continued to check back with them every month or two.

I was so anxious, any time that went by made me worry that my fears really would come true or that something horrible would happen to keep me from meeting my birth family. After a few months went by, I felt like no progress was being made, so I began researching other avenues to search for my birth family. I signed up on free registries, I even put a listing on Craigslist to see if it helped at all. Nothing was coming to fruition and I was held back by finances.

Finally, the summer of 2011, the agency had their program up and running; I was so excited! It took around a month or so after that to finalize everything (paperwork, fees, phone interview, etc.) before the actual search began. Letters were first sent out in an attempt to find my birth mother. Within a month my dreams started coming true, I received a phone call that they had contacted my birth mother and she wanted contact with me. “She wanted contact”. Those three words and I was ecstatic! Words really cannot encompass the emotions I felt! I really thought I would burst at the seams!

Soon enough we were emailing and getting to know each other. Don’t get me wrong, there were fears and doubts in this stage too. I mean it’s not hard to find horror stories of adoptees and birth parents – unneeded pressure, misunderstandings, misplaced anger and guilt. I didn’t know what to expect, I just knew I had to go into it without expectations and just needed to find out who this person was, not who I would need or want them to be.

Within a couple of weeks of being in contact with my birth mom, my dream completely came true. In October of 2011, the agency called me again and said they had found my birth father – a lucky occurrence – and he was over ecstatic that I was looking for him. Within a month I had found and contacted both birth parents and both were on the same page that I was. Talk about an everyday miracle. My family, friends, husband, extended relatives, and coworkers were nothing but supportive! We all took it slow, began with emailing, then after some time started talking on the phone. We exchanged small gifts at Christmas and shortly there after my birth father asked if it would be okay if he and his wife could fly out to meet me. Wow!! Something I never imagined! He was so thankful to have me in his life again that he was willing to fly to where I was to meet me! I agreed and we started making plans.

In April of 2012 I had a full house! My adoptive parents, my birth father, his wife and his mother graced my doorstep in our first ever reunion. For me it was an awkward, but exciting experience! I mean here is this event that I have been dreaming about right in front of me. There were so many emotions I really didn’t know which one to take and go with so I just tried to take it all in and go with the flow. It really felt like a first date, not knowing really what to do or say with your parents telling embarrassing stories about you growing up.

I won’t tell you it’s been all sunshine and butterflies since starting contact with my birth mother and father. There is still conflict between my birth parents; conflict neither of them wishes to speak about or resolve, but that doesn’t concern me. Each relationship is different and it is overwhelming at times trying to process the ebb and flow of each. I keep in mind that this situation isn’t only difficult for me; both my adoptive and my birth parents are also dealing with this new relationship. We are all trying to get to know one another and figure out how we all fit together. My birth father has another visit planned to see me already, and I am working on finding the time and ability to go meet my birth mother (for which my Mom will be present for as well). I know it’s not going to be easy and there’s still a lot of figuring out to do but I wouldn’t change any of it. I have been blessed beyond measure and am grateful for the life I live.

Written by Teal Hunter

I’ll never forget the look in Boipelo’s eye when we told her. Boipelo, who had waited so long and so patiently. Boipelo who had asked almost every day for a year when she was getting her “new” family. Boipelo who dreamed about the princess bedroom her new parents would prepare for her. Boipelo, seven going on eight, who was classified as mentally retarded with no clear diagnosis. Boipelo who had seen her other children adopted into families before her. Boipelo who was deemed by almost everyone as “unadoptable.” Boipelo who waited.

Amy laid a book before her. A book with wonderful pictures inside and a little story her adoptive family had created to tell her about themselves.

She looked at Boipelo and asked, “Boipelo, do you know what this is?”

A slow smile spread across her face, she breathed, “my new family,” almost casting a spell over the book laid in front of her, at the same time wishing and knowing. Wishing and knowing.

“That’s right, Boipelo. You’re new family.”

Light began to dance in Boipelo’s eyes. Dancing a dance of wonder and excitement mingled with the slightest shadow of fear and unknown.

Amy opened the book and turned the pages one by one while Boipelo stared down, unmoving. Her smile unchanging. Only her eyes dancing.

They flipped through the book twice before Boipelo picked it up, set it in her lap and started turning the pages herself.

I think Boipelo knew she was handling a miracle.

The deepest desire of every child is a place to belong–a family. There’s something in them crying out for family and belonging and when family goes wrong the something in them gets a little chipped, a little broken. It doesn’t matter how many times I see the scene above, it always plays out in a similar fashion, even with younger children who have not quite figured out what the thing they’re missing is.

And it’s not to say once everything is final it will be all roses and rainbows and happiness. There were many days before Boipelo went to live with her new family that she changed her mind and told her house mother she was not going to live with her new family. And there were many days, for many months after, that Boipelo would start packing her belongings and tell her adoptive parents she was going back to live with her house mother.

But still you can see it.

The change from a child who has no place to belong to a child who belongs is almost a physical one. There’s a change in the way they bear themselves. A change in the light in their eyes. Sometimes a change in their whole personality and demeanor. Adoption is their deepest desire met. There will be hard days. There will painful days. There will be easy days. There will be joyful days. But all will be days with a place to belong.

Written by: Amanda Erin Peterson