If my Facebook feed is representative of the world at large (and it is, right?), two things seem to happen during National Adoption Month. People wax poetic about the beauty of adoption, often noting only the shiny, happy side of things or they rage against the machine that is adoption, citing a variety of legitimate concerns about child placement practices of decades past and days present.
Who’s right? Who should you listen to? Do you have to choose a side? Is it an all or nothing proposition? And, most importantly for me, an adoptive mom, how do I balance the insights of others who’ve gone before me — adopted children, birth parents, adoptive parents — with my personal experiences to date and my hopeful vision for the future?
I don’t yet know the answer to that — to any of this really — but I do know that I’m an avid consumer of the adult adoptee perspective because I believe it provides necessary education and insights that help to shape my perspectives on parenting. That perspective is not the sole guiding force, but it’s an important one. I follow, like and read many adult adoptee blogs, websites and articles. The adult adoptee panels at heritage camp are always the most insightful for me. And, I’ve sat side-by-side on panels with adult adoptees at prospective adoptive parent educational sessions at my adoption agency. Their voices are strong. Their perspectives are real. And their viewpoints are not always shiny and beautiful. (Although sometimes they are.)
I came across a particularly harsh and gut-wrenching story from an adult adoptee the other day and I thought to myself, “why do I read this stuff?” And I’ve been thinking about that pretty regularly for the past week or so. It can be hard to read the negative accounts of adoption — the hurt feelings, disrupted lives, confused identities. Especially when my reality is so different. My personal adoption experience has been largely positive. My daughter has blessed my life in innumerable ways and brings me joy beyond imagine…and I think that feeling is mutual.
So, given that, why read the negative stories? Why consider the anti-adoption viewpoints? I’m an adoptive mom, so obviously I’m “pro-adoption,” at least I’m in favor of ethical, uncoerced adoptions — I’d be hypocritical to take any stance but that. (I’m not one to espouse an “it’s OK for me but not for you” perspective.) Given that, why do I bother to care about any adoptee’s experience other than my own daughter’s? I consider those viewpoints to educate myself, to broaden my perspective, to prepare for issues that may arise in the future. I read the negative perspectives because the ability to see and understand an issue from all sides is a critical skill to have in many areas of life. And, ultimately, I listen to the not-so-shiny stories to honor the experiences of those who are willing to share them.
