Adoptee Search Leads to Pain, Joy and Surprises

Adoptee searches are fraught with uncertainty. Searching for blood relatives requires a certain amount of guts, grit, patience and tolerance for pain and discomfort. Brace yourself. Expect the unexpected. You have no way of knowing what you’re in for.

And so the adventure began for adoptee Laureen Pittman, who shares the ups and downs and twists and turns she encountered in an engaging memoir, “The Lies That Bind”  (2018: Amazon KDP).

Memoir details adoptee's search for blood relatives
Adoptee and blogger Laureen Pittman tells the story of her search to find her birth parents

Pittman’s remarkable story begins with her birth in a California women’s prison in 1963. Her birth mother was an unmarried 18-year-old woman serving time on drug charges.

As an infant, Pittman was adopted by a married couple and encouraged to think of adoption as nothing out of the ordinary. Being adopted doesn’t matter, or so she was told.

Adoptee Search Begins With Birth Mother’s Name

By many accounts, her childhood in sunny California was typical. Pittman grew up with an older brother, who was also adopted. She didn’t begin the search for her biological family until she was a young woman. Her adoptive parents provided her with the birth mother’s name and with that information, Pittman was on her way to discovering the truth, in bits and pieces.

She hired a private investigator, who dug up the non-identifying information about her birth mother and birth father. Later, she would learn that some of the “facts” in the non-identifying information were falsehoods.

Though Pittman approached her birth mother, Margaret, respectfully, Margaret rebuffed her overtures. The birth mother had created a life that didn’t acknowledge the baby she had relinquished. Margaret covered up Pittman’s existence. She had never told her mother about the pregnancy.

Margaret resented the intrusion, feeling as though her privacy had been violated.

In letters to Pittman, the birth mother spoke glowingly about her successes in life and never inquired about Pittman or her family. Hurt by her birth mother’s rejection, Pittman ended the correspondence with Margaret.

DNA Test Identifies Adoptee’s Birth Father

Years later, through an astonishing stroke of luck, Pittman would find her birth father. His name popped up as a close match on Pittman’s DNA test results. Through emails and Facetime, Pittman and her birth father, Jonathan, got to know one another and a warm relationship developed.

Pittman would not discover any details about her conception. Suffice to say, Jonathan and Margaret conceived Pittman in the drug-tinged, psychedelic ‘60s. Jonathan had no recollection of Margaret, had no idea he had fathered a child.

He took a DNA test not with the hope of finding a long lost biological daughter but for answers to nagging questions about his father, who died when Jonathan was 6. Jonathan’s secretive mother had refused to answer his questions even as she lay dying.

The story moves in an unexpected direction, as Pittman and her father work to unravel the mystery.

The book resonated with me on a personal level. Like me, Pittman was born in the 1960s, when people concealed out-of-wedlock pregnancies and adoptions.

Adoptee Searches Uncover Family Secrets

While Pittman is not a late discovery adoptee, she and her father Jonathan uncovered long-buried family secrets, much like adoptees who discover their hidden adoptions later in life. (My parents, Claire and Bob, went to their graves without telling me I was adopted, leaving not so much as a single piece of adoption paperwork behind. They kept the adoption hidden from me and my sister, Melissa, also adopted. Through Melissa, I found out about my adoption a few years after my father’s death.)

With sensitivity, “The Lies That Bind” examines issues that are important to adoptees. In recounting the painful experience of being rejected by her birth mother, Pittman explores adoptee rejection, one of the perils adoptees can encounter when they find biological parents or other relatives who want nothing to do with them.

“The Lies That Bind” is a thoughtful book that adoptees can relate to and a quick read. I finished it over a weekend.

 

 

Original Birth Certificates Mean Everything to Adoptees

Reading the adoptee memoir, “You Don’t Know How Lucky You Are” (2018: BFD Press), brought back memories of my own search for blood relatives and the importance of original birth certificates.

In his well-researched book, adoptee Rudy Owens discusses his difficult childhood and the obstacles he overcame to get the original birth certificate from the state of Michigan.

Owens found Michigan’s birth certificate laws confusing even to the authorities in charge. As an adoptee born in 1965, Owens fell within a group that could not get the original birth certificate without a court order.  Owens made numerous requests to the adoption record keepers. He got his birth mother to sign a waiver, which would have allowed the state to release his records. Yet the waiver made no difference. His unwillingness to take no for an answer earned him a reputation. Adoption bureaucrats had flagged him as a “problem” adoptee.

original birth certificates
Adoptee Rudy Owens fought adoption bureaucrats in Michigan to get his original birth certificate.

With no help from Michigan, Owens embarked on a search for blood relatives who could possibly help fill in the blanks about his origins. Owens’s search yielded new family connections and heartache. While his birth mother welcomed Owens when they met for the first time in Detroit in 1989, his birth father refused to acknowledge Owens as his son.

“Get off my property,” the father said, as he glared at Owens from the front door of an upscale house in San Diego. “You’re not my son.”

What painful words to hear. Owens and his father never met again.

Watch Out For “Dangerous” Bastards/Adoptees

Withholding original birth certificates from adoptees is discrimination. Owens believes discrimination against adoptees stems from lingering stereotypes about bastards, aka adoptees.

He experienced the bastard stigma himself. Without knowing him, relatives on his birth father’s side of the family regarded Owens as a threat to the family.

Owens even encountered an adoption supervisor from Wayne County Probate Court in 2016 who said that he had heard of “birth parents being tracked and killed” by their illegitimate offspring.

“He stated this as if it were fact—though it never happened—and highly relevant to his work to keep birth records sealed tightly shut to all adoptees,” Owens writes.

People who are not adopted don’t realize how lucky they are. They never have to battle bureaucrats for birth certificates. They know where their ancestors came from and the diseases that run in the family. Adoptees encounter roadblocks in their quest for answers. We have to wait for laws to change or get court orders just to claim a birthright.

Original Birth Certificate Reveals Hidden Identity

Owens’s desire to learn the answer to the age-old question, “Who am I?” brought back a flood of memories. My need to know where I came from took on great importance after I learned I was adopted in the early 2000s. Uncovering the truth was frustrating. My adoptive parents were dead, my adoptive cousins could not help me and my original birth certificate was not available. Illinois and most other states supported keeping original birth certificates sealed.

The law changed in 2011. In that year, Illinois adoptees born on or after Jan. 1, 1946 became eligible to request their original birth certificates.

The process was straightforward. I mailed in a request with a check for $15 to the Illinois Department of Public Health. I waited patiently. The original birth certificate arrived in the mail in the spring of 2012.

What an exciting discovery! My birth mother’s married name, maiden name, age, address, place of birth and even her signature are all there on the original birth certificate.

Adoptees Treasure Original Birth Certificates

The original birth certificate was the key that unlocked the door to my hidden adopted life. Who am I and where did I come from?  I needed answers to those basic questions. My original birth certificate made searching for blood relatives possible.

Without his original birth certificate, Owens took a different route. He worked like an old-fashioned detective to find blood relatives and learn about his medical history.

And he never gave up the quest for his original birth certificate. After fighting the state of Michigan for years, Owens received the OBC with the help of a court order in 2016.

“Good fortune had smiled upon me,” Owens writes. “The journey taught me that some efforts, even those that take decades, are worth it.”

In this well-written memoir. Owens skillfully weaves his personal experiences with interesting adoption history.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twin Identities – An Adoptee Reunion Story

It’s strange enough to find out as an adult that you are adopted. It’s even weirder to discover you’re not as unique as you thought you were. Hey, meet your identical twin.

That’s the strange and shocking scenario presented in Identical Strangers,  a memoir written by identical twin sisters and adoptees Paula Bernstein and Elyse Schein.

I read this book while on vacation near Cancun, Mexico with my family. (My recipe for a perfect vacation? Put me on a beach, add a good book with a couple of mojitos, and I’m happy.)

Good book with a mojito on the beach equals a great vacation.
Good book with a mojito on the beach equals a great vacation.

Paula and Elyse didn’t grow up together the way sisters normally do. They were raised by different sets of adoptive parents. Early on, they knew they were adopted but they had no clue about their “twinship” until they were in their 30s. Whoa!  I cannot imagine how strange it would be to discover as an adult that I had an identical twin sister. It was weird enough to find out the truth about my adoption as a woman well into my 30s. That’s when I learned that my sister, Melissa, and I had been adopted. Of course, this family “secret” was a secret only to Melissa and me. Our cousins, aunts, uncles, God knows who else, all knew about our adoptions. Ah, the joy of being a late discovery adoptee.

Paula and Elyse are late discovery twins. They discovered they were separated as infants for a secret and misguided study on separated twins. Speaking to each other on the phone for the first time, the women realize their voices are practically identical. The sisters both suffered nearly fatal reactions to sulfa drugs. They also suffered from depression.  Meeting in person for the first time, Elyse and Paula realized they shared the same mannerisms and even liked the same shade of lipstick.

Yet Paula and Elyse live very different lives. Paula is married, has a little girl and lives in Brooklyn. Elyse, who is single, lives a bohemian lifestyle in Paris.

As an adult, how do you fit a brand new twin sister into your life? Paula has reservations about a relationship with Elyse.  Still, they forge a bond. They laugh, they cry, they get on each other’s nerves, just like sisters do. Their many uncanny similarities, shared DNA and love bring the women together.

Elyse and Paula embark on a search for their biological parents. Hey, I can relate to the excitement and pain that goes along with the search for kin. Of course their search leads the sisters to painful realities. Among other things, they learn that their mother, Leda, tried to commit suicide when she was more than 5 months pregnant with them. Like me, Paula and Elyse never got a chance to meet their birth mother, who was long gone by the time they found out about her.

When she discovers Leda is deceased, Paula is relieved.

“A bittersweet mix of relief and sadness sweeps over me,” Paula wrote. “There will be no emotional reunion, no pressure to find a place for our birth mother in my life.”

I know many adoptees wish for nothing less than a happy reunion with their natural mothers. I’m like Paula. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found out Lillian was deceased. Though I still find it fascinating to learn things about Lillian’s life, and would have liked to have met her, I have never had a huge desire for a relationship with the mother who was absent from my childhood.

I remember how much it hurt to find out the woman who brought me into the world battled with demons in her head. Lillian suffered from bipolar disorder. Leda, who suffered from schizophrenia, was hospitalized several times for emotional problems.

Adoption searches force us to face painful truths. Paula and Elyse suffered when they learned the truth about Leda, but their search brought them even closer to each other. Adoptees in search of happy reunions will enjoy this story.

The Dark Side of Adoption

Childless couples rescuing cute little newborn babies from sad situations and giving them a wonderful life filled with comfort, joy and love — that used to be my impression of adoption. Adopting a baby was always a feel-good kind of story filled with noble characters. It starts on a sad note of course with a woman, usually young and single, learning she’s pregnant. She’s distraught, doesn’t know what to do, but ends up having the baby. She surrenders her infant soon after birth, realizing it’s in her baby’s best interests to be raised by a nice married couple who can provide a stable and loving home. Of course giving up her baby hurts but this brave, selfless woman sucks it up. She makes the best of the situation and moves on with her life. Meanwhile, those married couples willing to open their hearts and homes to a baby who wasn’t their biological offspring were nothing short of heroes. The lawyers, adoption agencies, social workers and other supporting players were the good guys who made the happy ending happen. Doesn’t this scenario put a smile on your face?

Call me naïve (or stupid) but I did know about the dark side of adoption. Journalist and author Lynne McTaggart opened my eyes with her book, The Baby Brokers: The Marketing of White Babies in America (1980: Dial Press).

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My husband, Tom, gave me a used copy of this book for Christmas. Born in the 1960s,  I know very little about my birth mother and absolutely nothing  about my biological father. I know I was the result of a private adoption so naturally the book’s honest examination of private adoptions in the 1970s intrigued me.

To uncover the reality of private adoptions in those days, McTaggart posed as a pregnant single woman wanting to give her baby up for adoption and as a prospective adoptive mother. She encountered unsavory characters who took advantage of legal loopholes and figured out ways to skirt the laws. The best interests of babies didn’t figure into their decisions. These characters didn’t waste valuable time investigating the backgrounds of people seeking to adopt babies. They were mostly interested in making a fast buck at the expense of couples with the money to pay their fees. Birth mothers were not always treated with kindness.

I found the book disturbing. It raised questions in my mind about the circumstances behind my own adoption.  It also makes me wonder about modern-day private adoptions, particularly private adoptions in Illinois, my home state. What’s changed since the 1970s? I would love to hear from adoptees and adoptive parents.