The Declassified Adoptee

I will never forget the day my doctor said these words to me, "I didn't realize adult adoptees existed."  I had a meeting in Harrisburg about Adoptee Rights, and was suffering from one heck of a sinus infection.  After two weeks of toughing it out, I was still as oppressed by my illness as ever.  Begrudgingly, I visited my doctor to beg him for some miracle cure so that I would not be a ball of sniffles and yuck for my meeting with legislators. When I explained to him my need for the quick visit, he responded with a puzzled look, "I didn't realize that adult adopteees existed."  He paused.  "I mean, obviously, they exist.  I've done many health exams and those sort of things for adoption applications for adoptive parents--obviously there are adoptees.  Obviously adoptees don't just disappear when they become adults.  I guess it never occurred to me that adoption would still be relevant to adults." My reaction to his statement was one

Those of you with whom I tread this weary path know what I mean when I say that Adoption Reform is tiring and often frustrating work. In the short time that I have been engaged in the dialogue of change and ethics in adoption, I have seen the tired, the burn-out, and the frustration. I have felt these emotions myself. Essentially, we often have to battle so many misunderstandings people have about adoption, and the bias they may have against us adoptees who are in the "child" role of adoption, before we even get to present our causes. Every once and a while, things happen that let you know its all worth it. Sometimes it's correspondence from a legislator who understood your message. Each year for the Adoptee Rights Coalition, it's when people stop their cars in the middle of the street seeing our demonstration, and say in tears, "I'm adopted and no one knows I want my birth certificate. Can I please have one of your papers?"  Yesterday's t

Baby Batman Anyone who has ever read my blog, or has spent more than ten minutes with me, knows that I love to tell stories. My favorite stories to tell are about my children (especially my preschooler) and the wacky things they do. The story I tell most often occurred when my oldest son was about two-and-a-half. When we asked him what he wants to be when he grows up, he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. It was when we asked him what he thinks his baby brother will be that he had something to say. "M" replied, "He is going to be a doctor." He allowed a dramatic pause. "And I am going to take all of his money." We were immediately torn between laughing at his cuteness and being concerned astonished by his cleverness. I suppose we invented a new emotion that day. Don't worry, "M" has since changed his future vocation to "animal doctor." He also now claims his little brother is going to grow up to be

On the 27th, I will be headed to Washington D.C. for the privilege of meeting with some legendary adult adoptees and the Congressional Coalition on Adoption Institute.  We plan to bring some adoptee issues to the attention of Congressional staff, and establish an on-going dialogue for future meetings.   Of course, I can't go to this meeting armed without my papers, facts, statistics and all other necessary tools to share good information about Adoptee Rights.  I also indulged myself a little bit......

Guest Post by, Laura Dennis Even before I was completely sewn back together, I held my newborn. In those very first moments of hormones and love and crying baby, I knew with my entire being that I could not, would not , ever give her up. How could anyone give up such a precious, perfect little girl? How very devastated would I be if I had to give away this little person who I'd just made, who was mine, all mine. I tried to push those terrifying thoughts out of my head. Today was a day for joy, after all. But that act of giving away someone whom you'd carried with you for nine months, who was a part of you right down to a cellular level, it was mystifying and horrifying.

Jack thinks he helped me write this blog post. If you're not a blogger, have you ever wondered what goes into the making of a blog post?  For the first time, I share my secrets.  Do you blog?  Share your secrets with us too.

I am apologizing in advance because this blog entry has scarcely anything to do with its title.  I was reading through my last post where I noted that my adoptive surname appears oddly similar to an Old French word that means "to transfer" or "to make a copy."  When reading this, I couldn't help but comment to myself that the etymology of the name seemed prophetic.  I'm adopted and my last name means "to transfer" (actually, the OED says "to be transferred")--I mean, come on.  Furthermore, who better for a last name that means "to copy" to go to than someone who grew up to gripe about the incorrect copy made of her birth certificate?  I asked myself if it could be prophetic.  I decided the answer is "no."  The title of the post gets to stay though, because it is awesome.

Photo credit: worradmu I just finished reading the manuscript for the ”Adoptees as Parents” anthology which I used my incredible powers of persuasion to get my hands on (translation: Kevin asked me to review it and I said “yes”).  As you might already know, Land of Gazillion Adoptees has partnered with CQT media to bring you an anthology of essays written by prolific individuals from the adoptee community.  These are my impressions. The pieces that make up the ”Adoptees as Parents” anthology come from the minds of adult adoptees with a variety of impressive backgrounds. Several of the authors have a multi-dimensional view of adoption through numerous adoption connections, whether by having adopted siblings or adopted children, working professionally with the adoption community, or researching and writing about adoption. Themes that emerge from these combined essays include issues of race, gender, sexual orientation, domestic and international adoption, foster care, identity, at