Portrayals of Open Adoption

Stories that honor the real journey.

Stories are my work. My own story prompted me to begin researching adoption as a whole when, in 1995, I discovered the painful reality of changing minds and non-existent communication. I'd waited five years for an update letter from my son's adoptive parents and when I finally received one, was devastated to read, "We feel very strongly that Jonothan is ours until he's 21 and we hope that you will respect that." I spent another five years doing all that I could to communicate with my son's adoptive parents through the adoption agency only to finally face the reality that I was not going to receive what had been promised, nor was I going to be able to work towards having a relationship with the adoptive family.

From 1995 to 2000, I did all I could to understand adoptive parents and others who were in open adoptions. I ached to know what was working for them, how they did it, and why possibly my own adoption had turned out the way it did. I read every adoption book I could get my hands on, or every book at least that I could afford, and when I'd exhausted those resources I began going on-line meeting birthmothers and adoptive mothers who were kind enough to share with me. Through my experiences in research I began writing stories and articles from my own experiences and based on what I had learned from others. Yet still, I felt that something was missing. My questions had been answered from professionals in the field of adoption, those involved in healthy open adoptions, and from the vast many who shared their experiences with me. Yet, no one situation is alike, and I realized that regardless of how much research I did ... I would never fully know why my adoption turned out the way it did or how to repair it.

Even knowing now, through mistake, the identity of my son's family and where they are located, is bittersweet. How can I possibly introduce myself and the prospect of communication when in reality, despite the research I've done, I've no idea how they are feeling or why or even if I could make a positive difference? Would contacting them prove to be an even worse situation than my not knowing anything at all? These are issues that I find myself weighing over and over again. To do nothing ... or to risk it all?

I find myself lacking the courage to address many issues and concerns, not only in my own adoption but also in the adoption of my birth niece, the daughter my younger sister relinquished into open adoption shortly after my relinquishment of Jonothan. I fear stepping over boundaries that I assume exist, and instead of just coming right out and talking about things, I deny my own curiosity and ache to know more. My birth niece and her family live just a short distance from me, I could easily phone them, and yet I fear my involvement, or desire to be involved, would offend them. So I don't do anything.

Authors and professionals like Marlou Russel and Kathleen Silber have written outstanding books on adoption and openness in adoption, and I've read all of them. The tools lie in their words and throughout their chapters, yet applying them inside my situations proves to be a frightening task. I receive countless e-mails and phone calls from endearing people in all aspects of adoption who usually find the courage to ask me, "With all that you are doing in adoption, how do you deal with your own being the way that it is?" I feel perhaps that I do not what I preach.

I very well could finally send one of my letters to my son's adoptive parents. They may even open it and read it. What then? After twelve years they've no desire to know me or communicate with me and my crossing the line just might cause them to either become angry at the agency or even worse, pick up and move so that I would not know where they were. Could I risk that? I very well could pick up the phone and call my birth nieces adoptive parents. They may even express gladness in my calling. What then? Their adoption is between my sister and them, not I, and would I be causing greater stress to the situation? Could I risk that?

I find myself leaving the present and the future in the hands of others, believing that my influence would do no good. I deny my need to help things along because I feel insecure in my ability to do so. I shy away from the confrontation because I fear the outcome may be worse than the current situation. So I say nothing, do nothing, and through the years I begin wondering ... are we all doing that? What if in another ten or twenty years during reunion my son's parents say, "You should have written! We had no idea!" Could I live with myself for sacrificing all those years? What if my birth niece's parents say, "We would have loved for you to be involved!" How could I live with myself for missing out on so much?

On the other hand, my son's parents could develop resentment towards me for intruding into their lives and therefore not be supportive of a possible reunion. I may loose my son forever. My sister may be angry with me for getting involved in her adoption, resent me for it, and my birth niece's adoptive family may be annoyed that on top of everything else now they have to deal with another person from the birth family. I could loose it all. Or would I gain everything?

The one most important issue seems to get lost in the whirlwind of my own need, and that is what would be best for the children? Regardless of what I need, want, or assume to be the best situation is the over-riding factor of what my birth son and birth niece need in order to be healthy individuals.

Are they happy, loved, and cared for with or without my involvement? Are they struggling with their identity, unanswered questions, or are unnecessary assumptions causing them fear, anxiety, resentment, etc.? Would my involvement be a positive influence? In the letter I received from my son's parents, his mother wrote, "Jonothan is very happy and loved. He hasn't asked us anything about you, but if he ever does we'll try to answer the best we can." Many adoptee's have shared with me about this and the majority have told me that they never asked their adoptive parents about their birthmother because they feared hurting their parents feelings. The majority of those that did ask questions were given answers that left them with even more questions than before.

Would my involvement be a solution to that? My mother shared with me, when I asked why we were not allowed to introduce ourselves to my birth niece as "family", that her adoptive parents had said she had been struggling already with the lack of involvement from my sister and they didn't want to cause her any more confusion. Did she have questions that I may have been able to help with? Did she wonder if her birth family cared about her or loved her?

As I began outlining the aspects of this series, "Portrayals of Open Adoption," I felt that sharing the honesty in my own life in regards to openness was only fair. Despite the research, the books, and the learned knowledge I've gained over these years, my own truth is that regardless of how much I "know" ... applying the tools is never easy.

So as you read the upcoming stories, as you peek into the lives of those in open adoptions, you may find yourself screaming solutions into your computer screen. You may be faced with questions you never knew you had, and you might just discover that when it comes down to it ... each of us are called to search our own truths, walk our own journeys, and along the way we truly need others to reach out and help us along.

Stories can teach us, inspire us, and change the way we live. Perhaps this very series may be the encouragement so many, including myself, need to take that first step towards honoring the openness we at one time meant to keep, or even perhaps challenging ourselves to open our hearts to more than we expected in the first place.

A Miracle No One Even Knew Existed

Written by Courtney Frey as told to by the including non-fiction characters. Author has taken editorial freedoms and expanded corresponding interviews over several weeks time in order to cultivate the final draft.

*Julia knew by her doctor's face, before he spoke the words, she had lost another baby. Unlike the time before, her body slowly numbed as if rejecting the grief it knew was soon to ravage her. She whispered, without tears, "No more ... no more."

Julia told me, "I wanted to black out, to force it all away, almost wishing I would pass out, wake up, and hear the doctor tell me the opposite of what had really happened. I couldn't accept it. I just went numb. That's what I felt like when I lost my second baby."

Julia and her husband of eleven years, *Paul, had waited to have children until Paul was further along in his career as an attorney in a well-respected law firm. They had planned it to perfection, their marriage, their careers, their home, their friends and families, everything they'd worked for was, in the back of their minds, all for the moment in which they brought their first born home.

When Julia first became pregnant in 1994 they immediately planned a party with friends and family, thrilled to share the good news. The party was set to happen the day of Julia's first ultrasound. After dinner, Julia brought out a cake she'd baked for dessert. Inside the cake she'd placed a pink piece of paper with the words ... "It's a girl." She asked her mother to cut and serve the cake and after placing it in front of her, stepped aside. As her mother cut into the cake, she noticed the paper. Pulling it out, she said to her daughter, "Julia, what in the world is in here?" Julia laughed and replied, "Mom, I don't know ... it looks like it has words on it."

Julia's mother read the words and immediately everyone began rejoicing and crying with excitement. Five months later, little Sarah came into the world, but did not go into her mother's arms. She was born with a rare heart disease and was whisked away to the NICU for what would be the longest, yet shortest, four months of her life.

Sarah died in her mother's arms ten hours after her fourth surgery. When she took her last breath, Julia remembers, "It was as if she took mine as well."

Julia and Paul grieved the loss of their first child for two years before they could even imagine trying to get pregnant again. Paul says, "I felt like I'd lost Julia, those two years nearly ruined our marriage. She stopped working and every night I came home to find her sitting in the nursery we'd made for little Sarah. I never could find the right words to console her. It literally broke me."

Friends and family slowly separated from Julia and Paul, not because they didn't love them or even want to support them through such a terrible loss, but more so because they didn't know how. Finding the right words to say, the correct things to do and give, seemed an impossible task. One of the couple's closest friends had tried to be consoling by telling them, "Don't worry ... you can have another baby." It was the last time they saw that friend. Julia and Paul were alone for a long time.

One evening, Julia tells me, she was rocking in the white wicker rocking chair in Sarah's nursery as usual when Paul came home from work in 1996. Their routine had become normal, a silent acceptance of the grief that seemed to have taken reign over their lives. Julia expected Paul to change clothes, start dinner, and wait for her to come down stairs. Paul expected to hear the floor's quiet creaking from Julia's rhythmic rocking, her slow pace down the stairs, the long sigh she released before sitting down to dinner. The silent hour while they forced themselves to eat, never making eye contact with one another. The long, painful, cold nights.

Yet this night changed everything, and Julia tells me the story with a tearful sob in her throat. "I didn't hear the bedroom door open, and I listened for the dresser drawers to slide, but again, nothing. I continued to rock. Before I knew it, there was Paul, standing in the doorway of the nursery. His faced was stained with tears, his eyes swollen and red. He slowly walked towards me ... kneeling near my feet. He laid his head in my lap, and took my right hand and placed it on his head. And then he cried. I was in shock. Paul had never cried in front of me before. I just sat there, my hand limp on his head. I didn't know how to re-act. So I just let him cry. Pretty soon, he looked up at me, not even wiping the tears from his face, and he said, "Julia, I need you."

That night, Paul and Julia found one another again after a long two years of grieving. Finally able to share the pain together, they once more connected to everything important in their lives. That same night, Julia became pregnant again.

This time, things were different. Julia spent weeks taking apart Sarah's nursery, stripping it down to four white walls. They did not tell anyone, and rarely did they talk about her pregnancy. The fear of what might happen was too great. So when Julia felt that something was not quite right, she did not even tell Paul that she was going to the doctor. She went alone.

"In my heart, I knew I'd lost our second child. I couldn't bare for Paul to have to hear the words again," Julia says. "This time, I was caught between hating God and being mad at myself. I didn't know if I was being punished by something greater than me, or if it was my fault. Either case left me feeling devastated, helpless, and empty."

Friends and family were unaware of Julia and Paul's second loss, yet even if they had known, things would not have changed. Julia says to me, "It's strange, when you suffer a loss that no one else has, it's like you have a disease and everyone around you is afraid they'll catch it if they come too close. We had everything we were supposed to have, the house, the cars, the vacation home, great careers, everything. Yet because we'd lost a child ... people feared us. We felt like nothing we'd done so far, nothing we'd accomplished mattered as much as what we'd lost."

Another difficult two years passed, but Julia and Paul only seemed to become closer through it all. Having lost so much seemed to make them stronger together, as if an un-known force willed them to become one united front. Paul says, "I knew then, that without Julia I would not survive."

In February of 1998, Julia was at a women's luncheon put on by a local charity trying to raise funds for the children's hospital near-by. She says, "I did not want to go. One of my co-workers had convinced me that it would be good for me, that maybe it was time I started coming out of my shell. Part of me knew she was right, and the other part of me was just grateful that someone cared enough, finally, to reach me."

The keynote speaker during the charity event was a woman who had adopted a little girl after her young mother had relinquished her rights due to circumstances beyond her control. The little baby had been born with heart problems, and the young mother, on welfare at the time and homeless, knew that the best thing for her baby was to surrender her with the hope that a couple could take care of her better. The keynote speaker was just visiting a friend of hers at the hospital when she saw the infant in the nursery. Curious about the tiny baby all hooked up to tubes and wires, she asked one of the nurses about her situation. The nurse had told her that the baby was waiting to be adopted, and that if she even survived the next heart surgery, she'd be placed into Foster Care, where the chances of her being adopted into a home were slim.

Needless to say, the woman continued visiting the small infant for weeks after. She was in the waiting room after every surgery, and soon enough the nurses began allowing her into the NICU where she would sing to the little baby girl, read, and pray whenever she could. Nine months later, the adoption papers were final and the woman took her precious baby home.

Julia says, "I was supposed to be at that charity that day to hear what that woman had to say. She was speaking right to me, and I knew it. I left that day and ran to Paul's office, tearing through his door I nearly collapsed on his lap as I told him everything I'd heard. He just stared at me, for the longest time. I asked him, "Well? What do you think? Isn't it a miracle?" I began to worry, he stood up from his chair and paced the room for a moment or two until he finally sat back down, crossed his legs, picked up his silver pen, smiled and asked me, "Where do we sign?"

That day changed our lives forever. It was like we were given a second chance, as if everything we'd gone through had led us to this moment. I began to believe that maybe Sarah's life, and the life of our second un-born child, wasn't in vain. That they had lived just long enough for us to learn how to love, to sacrifice, to experience the true heart and soul of what parenting was. I felt like they were both still very much with me, and in a lot of ways, trying to tell me that it was okay."

Five months later Julia received the call. There was a baby waiting for a family. Julia was shocked that it had happened so fast, as they'd been told it would take no less than one to two years. They hadn't even finished all the paperwork or the home study visits. Her caseworker assured her, "Don't worry, we'll make you Cradle Care Parents until you finish up all the paperwork and then once you're approved we'll move right into the adoption process."

On instinct, Julia ached to pick up the phone and call her mother to share the news. A sadness emerged as Julia was again faced with her parents lack of understanding. "They outright said, when Paul and I told them we were looking into adoption, "No way Julia. That's just not right." I knew then, that once again, Paul and I were on our own."

But that didn't stop Julia from rushing to the gift shop near Paul's office to purchase him "It's a boy!" cigars. She stopped at his secretary's desk and they created a plan to surprise Paul. Paul says, "I was working with a client on a pretty tough case when my secretary buzzed me. I'd told her to hold all calls, so I was a little annoyed and I replied back to her, "Not now Carolyn, I'm busy." A moment later, she buzzed me again and said, "Paul, you really need to come out here." I must have looked hilarious when I came charging out of my office! But once I looked up ... the entire firm was standing around smoking these cheap looking cigars with the weirdest smiles on their faces. Then there was Julia ... she said, "You're going to be a daddy!" I about passed out. I was excited, but at the same time, it brought up a lot of pain that I didn't expect it to. I just walked to her, put my arms around her, and I sobbed like a baby."

The next day Paul and Julia went to meet their baby for the first time. Inside the adoption agency, Julia hesitated to pick up the precious little boy, no more than three days old. Julia remembers asking, "Are you sure it's okay?" She says to me, "I felt like at any minute some woman was going to come charging in, yelling at me, saying, "How dare you take my baby?" I was petrified."

Julia says that despite all the classes she and Paul had to take, the frightened feeling of someone taking the baby still loomed above their heads. She says, "I knew that feeling ... better than anyone. At any moment a life can be taken from you ... even as prepared for that as I should have been, I became defensive. I still feared God's punishment, or my wrong-doing, and regardless of all the counseling sessions I'd taken, nothing had prepared me for the overwhelming emotion of holding that little boy in my arms."

Several months passed, Julia and Paul re-decorated the nursery in moons and stars, their families began to come around again, though there still seemed to be a silent question no one wanted to ask outloud. Julia told me, "I really wish that the book, "Adoption is a Family Affair," (written by Patricia Johnson, Perspectives Press, Inc.) had been written during that time ... man, we were like deaf mutes trying to communicate about the situation. Despite some difficult issues, life seemed to take on an entirely new direction for them. Their home began to fill with laughter, joy, and peace once more. The finalization ceremony was to take place in September of that year ... just months away.

They'd survived the grief of loosing two children, and the humiliation of having to reveal all to strangers through home studies, classes, and the countless interviews. They finally had a child, *Michael, who was thriving under their adoration and loving care.

"Then the phone rang one day, just like any other day, until I heard our caseworker say, "The birthmother is having second thoughts and thinks she'd like to meet both you and Paul," says Julia. She thinks she dropped the phone, but can't remember. "I think I screamed too, just before I hung up on her. Then I ran to Michael's room where he was sleeping, and I picked him up and held him as close as I could. He started crying, and then I lost it. I sat down in the new rocking chair and just rocked ... for hours."

When Julia hung up on the caseworker, Paul's phone rang at work. He was told the same thing, and also was informed that Julia may not be handling it well. Paul raced home from work to find Julia sobbing, and rocking, Michael crying in her arms.

Paul remembers, "I took Michael, went to make him a bottle, fed him and laid him back down in his crib. Then I picked Julia up in my arms and carried her to our bedroom. She curled up like an infant, and I felt helpless again. I couldn't loose her to grief ... I'd come too close to that before."

Julia would not meet with the birthmother. She says, "I didn't want a face to remember. I didn't want to see her and have to look at the woman that gave birth to my son. It wasn't that I hated her, it was the opposite. I knew loss ... and I also knew I couldn't bear to see hers too. Yes, I was angry. Angry that I'd bonded with my son and became his mother only to have to think about having it stolen from me again. But not angry at her."

Paul took Michael and the two of them went to the adoption agency where they met *Christine. Paul says, "It was awkward and frightening at the same time. I had this urge to start telling her all my accomplishments, to tell her how great a father I was, how wonderful Julia was, to tell her how Michael had learned to roll over, and how he loved to take baths in the sink, but not the bathtub, and that Julia and I thought it was because in the bathtub the running water was too loud and it frightened him. I felt panicked, like I had to prove my case, like I was in court, she was the judge ... and I was failing miserably with so very much at stake."

They all took seats around the small worn coffee table. There was an uncomfortable pause as the caseworker introduced them. And then Christine asked Paul if she could hold the baby. Paul recalls, "I wanted to tell her no! I felt my face getting red, my heart was pounding hard enough to hurt my chest ... but I just nodded my head yes."

Christine took Michael out of his car seat with ease, as if she'd done it a hundred times before. She brought him to her chest and looking down softly at his face whispered, "Hey baby .. it's me." Paul was overcome with pain and left the room quickly.

He stayed in the bathroom for nearly half an hour, until finally the tears had run dry. He had prepared himself to leave empty handed that day as he made his way back to the little meeting room, almost expecting his son to be already gone. Instead, when he walked through the door Michael was peacefully drinking from one of the bottles he'd prepared for him, Christine was smiling and talking about how Michaels chin had the same little dimple as her own. When she glanced up and saw Paul, without hesitation she pulled herself up from where she sat, walked towards him, and very gently placed Michael back into his father's arms.

Paul tells me through a choked voice, "She said to me, "I can see this is where he belongs."" Christine reached out and embraced Paul, Michael curled safely in between them. Paul says, "I never imagined I'd meet Michaels birthmother, much less have so much love and respect for her. We'd made it clear to the agency that we wanted only a closed adoption ... but after that first encounter I was grateful they messed up."

Julia remembers that day, "I screamed at Paul when he left with Michael. I fell at his feet and grabbed onto his legs, begging him not to go. He was crying against my pleas, and I knew it was killing him to take the baby. He finally broke loose of my hold and sobbing just as hard as I, he left. I think I laid on the floor in our entryway screaming and crying for nearly two hours. I'd cried so hard I'd gotten sick all over the floor, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered to me anymore."

After Paul left that afternoon, once Julia had cried all she could, she went upstairs, closed the door to Michaels nursery, went into her room and simply laid on her bed staring at the ceiling until her eyes hurt so badly that everything went blurry. And that is how Paul found her when he carried Michael up the stairs, into their bedroom, and placed her son on her belly, his most favorite place in the world.

Julia says, "I couldn't see him, but I felt him. My eyes stung still from the tears, and because I'd forced myself to stare so long at the ceiling, I couldn't even make him out. I thought I had died. I honestly thought I'd cried and grieved myself to death."

Paul says, "She opened her eyes for a second, and then closed them again. I didn't know what she was doing. I expected her to be thrilled, but she just laid there! My first thought was total fear, honestly, I thought she'd taken some pills or something and was so out of it that she didn't know Michael was home. So I left both of them there and ran to the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet. But she hadn't taken anything. I walked back into the room and she had pulled Michael up to her chest, and it appeared that they were both sleeping peacefully."

Julia admits she did fall asleep in those moments. Holding onto Michael, she finally embraced everything that had brought her to that moment, and her heart and spirit so weak from loss, fear, and grief, simply needed a good rest.

Paul waited several days before telling Julia about the meeting with Christine. He knew that his wife was still soaking it all in, and he couldn't bear to tell her everything until she had fully enjoyed, and accepted, being mommy again.

But Paul knew that time was running short, and he had set up a meeting with Christine to meet Julia just a short week away. So Paul decided, one day, to come home from lunch with a bouquet of roses and to force himself to tell his wife the whole situation.

He found her playing with Michael in the backyard. He says, "Julia has always been so adult-like with Michael. She never talked in baby talk, and she had Michael sitting up in the garden, telling him in extreme detail which flowers were which and how the entire germination process worked. I couldn't help but laugh, Michael was eating dirt and Julia was just going on about stems and seeds."

Paul handed Julia the roses, for which she glowed over, and he knelt in the garden next to wife and son. Paul says, "I don't remember exactly how I began telling her, but I do know that about half way through my measly attempt at it, she reached up to touch my cheek and she said, "I know honey, I know."

Julia tells me, "Maybe it's a mothers instinct, but as soon as Paul brought Michael home to me, I knew that his birthmother would be a part of his life. I didn't know how, or when, but I just knew. He'd seen his biological mother again ... and I'd seen her too, through his eyes."

It's now 2002 and Julia, Paul, Michael, and Christine now consider themselves a family. Once every two months Julia prepares a huge dinner while Christine entertains Michael. They sit around and share life's precious details, pausing often to praise and adore Michael. Julia says, "Christine has become one of my closest friends. She is the one person, besides Paul, who can truly understand what grief and loss is. It took me a long time to be able to open up to her, as I so feared her taking Michael from me. I often felt utterly guilty for the pleasure I'd been given to mother a son, and there were times I had to cancel visits with her because of this. Yet Christine, in her own unique way, is a healing force in my life. It's as if, through her loving Michael, despite the loss she's endured, allows me the freedom to accept my own losses in a way that allows me to embrace all I've gained."

Julia and Paul admit that the last thing they ever wanted was an open adoption. Yet Paul says, "I've realized that the greatest things in life are those we don't even hope for. They just sort of happen to us, and if we're paying attention to them and to ourselves as they come ... we end up with more than what we expected."

Julia tells me, as her story comes to an end, at least here, "I am still grieving the fact that I will not bear a child. I still cry when I think about Sarah and the baby I lost after her. I will never forget the days and weeks I had with my precious little girl, and it will continue to be a struggle to mother Michael without the pain of loosing my other children. The relationship we have with Christine is not always easy either, and I find that it's much like the grieving process itself. Some days are good, and some are bad. But when I get real honest with myself, when I'm at my most vulnerable, I can't deny what's most important. Michael. He will never have to wonder, he will never struggle with the what if's, and he will always know from where he came, where he is, and that wherever he goes ... he has the three of us right behind him all the way."

Christine and I spoke a week after I did this story with Julia and Paul. I wanted to give her the opportunity to tell me how she remembered things in the beginning and how she feels about how things are now. Christine's voice is soft over the telephone and I have to press the receiver tight up against my ear to hear her. I am taken aback by what she says to me, and afterwards I realize, I need not ask her anything more.

She tells me, "Michael has a purpose in life that I'll never fully understand. But it was my job two years ago to honor it, and it's my job now to help fulfill it in any way I can. I knew when I gave birth to my son, the second I looked at him, that his life would go in a different direction than I could provide. It was so painful at that moment that I simply walked away. I couldn't even look back ... the loss was so great. But then I remembered a charity dinner I'd attended for a local children's hospital in town ... where I heard this woman talking about the little girl she adopted ... and I knew in my heart that even though I let my baby go, I would always be a part of him. Even as painful as the loss was ... I owed it to my son to be there whenever, or if ever, he needed to know me. And just as wonderful as that was the fact that Julia and Paul needed to know me as well."

This story was an intensely emotional story for me to write. The losses suffered are so great that in my humanness I can barely comprehend them. Especially in speaking with Julia and Paul, the story became an entity on it's own, a symbol for human strength and courage. I didn't think the story could get any better, any more inspirational, until I then had the opportunity to speak with Christine. After the interview I asked her where the charity dinner she'd gone to had been held. When she told me the dates and the place I immediately began to sob. I'm sure she thought I was crazy. She asked if I was all right. That's when I asked her ... "Didn't you know that Julia was at that very same charity dinner and it was that same keynote speaker who inspired her to look into adoption?" Christine very calmly replied, "I wouldn't be surprised if that were true ... when there's a greater purpose at hand in our lives ... things just connect, even when we aren't aware of it." It turned out, little did Julia and Paul know that when Julia came storming into Paul's office that February day after attending the charity lunch to ask him, "Isn't it a miracle?" it really, truly, in every way ... was.

*The names have all been changed to protect family members. Julia and Paul feel that they have shared such intimate details during a very trying time in their lives and wish that to remain anonymous. They also expressed their concern for family and friends who though Julia and Paul know loved them, were unable to support them during the years of their losses and grief. Christine's family is still dealing with the relinquishment of Michael, and Christine felt it necessary to protect them from exposure to those who may not even be aware of the grandchild given to adoption. They have given me permission to write: If you have read this story and would like to send a letter or ask questions to Julia or Paul, please send them to Courtney_adopt_org@msn.com and in the subject line write: To Julia and Paul.

If you enjoyed this month's, "Portrayals of Open Adoption," make sure to come back next month for another inspiring, heart-warming story. If you have a story of your own you'd like to share please contact Courtney at the above e-mail address. Anonymity will be respected if requested.

Loving Links: A Mother's Journey into her Young Daughter's Past.

Copyright by Author: Leceta Chisholm Guibault

Fall 2000

In October I had the opportunity to spend an incredible week with a wonderful friend visiting the country of my daughter's birth. My traveling partner, Ali, is an adoptive mother of a three-year-old daughter also adopted from Guatemala. To our advantage, Ali is fluent in Spanish!

I must admit that there were many moments when I felt guilty that Kahleah (9) was not with me. She made a good point..."I can't believe you are visiting MY birth country with out ME!" To be honest, I was not sure before my trip what to expect! Could I travel to Guatemala with a precocious pre-teen adoptee? Was it dangerous? Would the sight of poverty overwhelm her? How would she react? Now...I can't wait to travel with her to HER birth country! My photos, souvenirs and video are just not enough for my little girl.

When Ali invited me to join her on the trip, she knew from previous conversations about my disappointment in the fact that Kahleah was escorted in 1991, and that I *needed* this trip. Add to the fact that we are matched perfectly as traveling partners because of our shared desire to "experience" Guatemala on the same level. We both felt the importance of maintaining a relationship with our daughter's foster families, understanding this important link between our daughters and their first caregivers. We both were in search of more information on our daughter's birth families and were eager to meet a Guatemalan lady who provides a search service for adoptive families.

It was a dream come true meeting Morena, Kahleah's foster mother, for the first time. We have been corresponding for close to five years. While waiting for Kahleah in early 1991, we would receive monthly updates from our adoption agency. Besides a medical report, there was always included a photo of Morena holding infant Kahleah (Maria de Lourdes) in her protective arms. My arms ached yet it was obvious she was loved and cared for.

At the time, contact was not suggested between the foster family and adoptive parents and to be honest...I had not thought of requesting contact. This was probably due to the fact Kahleah arrived home escorted. We did not travel to Guatemala. Kahleah spent 5 months with Morena and her family. I remember a sigh of relief when Kahleah was home with us for SIX months because in my mind, well...she had then been with us longer than anyone else!

By the time Kahleah was old enough to really look at her LifeBook (album) it was obvious she wanted to know "who" the lady was holding her in the photos. "Did she love me? Did she take good care of me? Was she married? Was I good? Did I cry?" Who does NOT want to answer the questions of their child? I pulled out the Social Report from her adoption documents. A few of Kahleah's questions were answered but we needed to know more. Luckily there was a complete mailing address for Morena included in the documents. I decided to write.

The first letter from Morena was full of love and "blessings". She was so happy to hear from us! She sent Kahleah a birthday card and a number of baby photos. These photos were priceless! We continued to write once or twice a year with updates on our growing families. A year ago Morena's son contacted me by email. This came in handy when in October, a week before I left, I sent an urgent email message "I am coming to Guatemala!"

On our second day in Guatemala City Ali and I anxiously waited for a visit from Morena in our hotel room. Ali was teasing me...it was obvious I was very excited. It felt like Christmas Eve! When I heard the knock at the door my heart almost exploded. When I opened the door I was met by out stretched arms and the kindest eyes I have ever seen. We hugged for the longest time. We were not strangers. We were mothers. As strange as it may seem...hugging Morena made me miss my late mother more than usual. I cried. I could feel from her hug all the love she had for Kahleah.

After we sat down, I could not take my eyes off her. Thank God Ali was there and ready to translate!!! I found out that Kahleah was the first baby to be fostered in their home. They were not looking to be foster parents but by chance met a lawyer in Mass one Sunday who noticed Morena's love of children. He asked her if she would be interested in taking care of a baby girl who would be adopted "North". Morena's family agreed.

I asked Ali to tell Morena that while I was waiting for Kahleah to come home, I had an awful fear that Morena would adopt her. I even contacted my agency and was quickly reassured that Kahleah was our baby and not to worry (of course there WAS the chance that her birthmother could change her mind..."don't worry!") Then...for some reason I was not surprised, Morena told us that because of their overwhelming love for Kahleah and the fact that she immediately became a part of their family, they approached the lawyer about adopting her!!!! My "feelings" were confirmed. The lawyer told them that Kahleah had a family "Up North" and it was impossible for them to adopt her. Morena said they were devastated but continued to love her and give her the best care possible. She said that she used to rock Kahleah and "talk to her spirit" and tell her how much they loved her, would not forget her and that God had a plan for her. Her family truly mourned when Kahleah left. They had already promised to foster another baby shortly afterwards but could not bring themselves to foster a child again. It caused all of them too much pain. (At the time, Kahleah had a 12-year-old foster sister and three foster brothers between 13 and 16 years of age.) Morena gave me a photo taken at the airport of her family and Kahleah moments before Kahleah was escorted onto the plane. I can not describe the obvious pain in their eyes. After Kahleah left the lawyer only gave Morena two photos of Kahleah and when she requested contact he said no. He said that "due to the economical differences between foster families and adoptive families, it was not advisable. This statement saddened me. We ALL loved Kahleah.

An interesting point. Although Morena and her family are educated (Benjamin is a Dentist and professor) they still feared the "baby organ transplant" rumors and were more than relieved to finally hear from us and receive photos of Kahleah.

Anyway...we exchanged gifts and photos in the hotel room. Morena took the time to examine every photo, just as a parent or grandparent would. It was as if she could not believe her eyes. It only got better when I shared with her a video clip of Kahleah, filmed only days before. Kahleah prepared a special message for Morena and Benjamin and it warmed my heart to watch her "see and hear" Kahleah. I was so proud of my little girl.

Morena had presents for all of us including Ali. It was obvious that she took a great deal of time to choose just the right gift. She loved the gifts that I brought, especially the Christmas ornaments and a snow globe with a beautiful church and a song that played "White Christmas".

We finished our first visit with a special video recorded message from Morena to Kahleah. It was not my last cry of the trip!

Before Morena left the hotel, she invited Ali and I to dinner at her home. I was so excited! I was finally going to meet the rest of the family and see with my own eyes where my child lived for the first five months of her life...plus, I promised Kahleah lot's of video tape!

Morena's son Juan Pablo picked us up at the hotel. I think that next time I visit, I would prefer to visit in the Spring or Summer, when the days are longer. It was a little unnerving traveling all over Guatemala City after dark (5 PM!) yet always felt safe with our hosts.

Morena's house was not what I expected...yet, I didn't know what to expect anyway! I probably would have thought they were "poor" until I saw true poverty. It was that evening that I discovered that Benjamin was a dentist and professor at the university. It was obvious that one could not compare the financial success of dentists here in Canada to dentists in Guatemala.

When we walked into the home we were warmly greeted by foster dad Benjamin (what a sweetie!), foster sister Carla, her husband Ronaldo and their year old son Diego and foster brother Flavio. Flavio and foster brother Juan Pablo still live at home. They are all now in their early to mid twenties. Older brother Jorge had to work so we did not meet but I was presented with a great photo of him as a macho teen with baby Kahleah in his arms.

For a moment I felt like Princess Diana with all the camera flashes going off right and left :o) They were video taping every move Ali and I made too! It was clear that they were very excited to have us in their home. We were a link to Kahleah. I felt the same way. What I could not get over was how "comfortable" I was! Even though I did not speak the language...each hug, eye contact, holding of hands...even breathe...felt like being with family...close family. There were moments that I would just stand facing Morena or Benjamin, holding their hands, looking in each other's eyes. We would not say a word and just smile, gently squeezing each other's hands with tears in our eyes and Kahleah on our minds.

Morena prepared a delicious typical Guatemalan meal. Benjamin first said Grace and again brought me to tears. He included in his prayer his overwhelming emotion at finally having us visit after "years" of promises to come to Guatemala. For that moment...although Kahleah was not with us, Ali and I were enough.

It was a precious gift to have each family member record a special message for Kahleah. All were filled with emotion while "remembering". After dinner I showed the family the video of Kahleah and her 6 year old Colombian born brother Tristan at home. They could not stop smiling and laughing at their (Tristan's actually) antics. Then it was time for a tour of the home. It was quite large with two stories. It was warm and spotless! We visited Benjamin's dental clinic and it was like walking into a museum.

The family is very talented. Morena is a painter and she presented Ali and I with beautiful paintings and one for Kahleah too. They will be hung with pride in our homes. Benjamin plays the guitar and has a melodic voice. He performed numerous songs for us in Spanish and I am blessed to have them all on video. Flavio, Carla, Ronaldo and Juan also played the guitar and sang! Flavio also played the Sax for us.

While Benjamin played the guitar, Morena went upstairs and returned with a box full of photos and "souvenirs" of Kahleah...including all the letters and photos I have sent over the years. She presented me with more photos of Kahleah taken her first 5 months. She also showed me a handmade dress of Kahleah's. It was lovingly made by Morena's elderly mother. Included was a little baggie with the tiniest finger nail clippings I have every seen!!! Kahleah's first...

THEN the shocker........Morena handed me a document and said, "I am sure you have a copy of this". At first it looked familiar...like most of Kahleah's official documents. I started to turn the pages THEN almost fell off the couch when I realized that, in my hands, I had a copy of...........Kahleah's birthmother's "cedula" (resident card) including a photocopy of her photo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Our first...

We have ongoing contact with Tristan's birthfamily in Colombia but have been unsuccessful in contacting Kahleah's birthfamily. We have a lot of written social history but at Kahleah's age "who" she looks like has become very important.

I was a little disappointed when I first laid eyes on the photo. It is small and in black and white...a photocopy. Kahleah does not resemble her birthmother in the least. The physical resemblance's between Tristan and both his maternal and paternal birthfamily, including cousins, is uncanny. I "expected" Angelica to look like an older version of Kahleah. Still...I held a precious document in my hands. I then tucked all my precious photos and such into my backpack.

It was time to say good-bye to our Guatemalan family. I hugged everyone once...and then again! I did not want to let go! It felt too good. Just one more time, looking straight into their eyes. Adios! As Ali and I got into Juan Pablo's car, Morena decided to come along for the ride back to the hotel. I waved good-bye to Benjamin and family until I could no longer see them. Once again, with the ever-present tears in my eyes and translation help from dear Ali I had something else in my heart to share with Morena...

After spending the evening with Morena and her family it became obvious to me that Kahleah did have a "place" in Guatemala and Kahleah could feel it. I told Morena that it was comforting to know that "if" for some reason SHE had been able to adopt Kahleah...I know she still would have had a wonderful life full of love, family, education, nurture, culture and music. She would not have suffered in her country of birth. She would still be the loving, intelligent, talented and spiritual child she is today...the child she is meant to be regardless. Morena told me that she now knows that Kahleah IS where she is supposed to be. With her family...

I hate good-byes. We said good-bye at the house and then outside the hotel. It was difficult. THEN on Saturday morning 6:30 Ali and I were in the line-up for Continental Airlines at the airport. Morena and Flavio arrived, carrying with them the three painting from Morena which she had rushed to have framed. Each painting had a loving inscription on the back. They waited until we cleared Security and we turned to wave one last time. I was on my way home..

Both Kahleah and Tristan were very excited when I returned home. This was the longest I had ever been away from them. The house was clean and they presented me with a flower! What more could a Mom ask for? (Plus I have a WONDERFUL husband!)

Kahleah was more anxious to hear about the trip than Tristan . I was smart. I knew Tristan would not be too impressed with any of my purchases from Guatemala (except for the tree swings) so I bought the video Toy Story 2 for him during a stop-over in Houston. In his mind...it IS from Guatemala!

Kahleah, Daddy Jean and I sat on the floor and started examining all my purchases! She loved everything...just for the fact they were from her birth country. She cherishes the gifts from Morena and Benjamin because they have even more special meaning. I showed her her baby photos that Morena gave us. Her eyes were wide! She could not wipe the smile off her face. Then she kept asking me if they were "nice" people...following up with, "I know they are but I want to know what YOU think!". It was time to hook up the video camera!

I can not describe Kahleah's expressions fully while I watched her watch the video of her foster family. I guess I should have taken her photo at that moment. It was like she could not believe her eyes. She immediately "connected" with the foster siblings calling them HER brother's and sister. She beamed at the realization that IF Carla is her foster sister then THAT means that Diego is HER nephew!!!! She then jumped up and down and hollered to Tristan, "I'm an AUNT!!! I'm an Aunt!!!!" While watching and listening to the special recorded messages...just for her...I thought I could see her heart pounding out of her chest. She was proud!!!!

Later that night, while lying in bed, we discussed her birthmother. I told her that Morena gave me a document with a copy of a photo of Angelica. I shared with her that it was very unexpected on my part but also a true gift. She asked to see it and I explained to her that it might not be what she expects and mentioned that it is not a great photo due to the fact that it is small, B&W and a copy. She is used to all the family snap shots from Colombia. I did not want to tell her that I did not see a resemblance because I wanted her to have her own reaction. I also knew my daughter was more than ready after years of preparation. Maybe SHE would see a resemblance?

I brought the document into her room and for a minute we both sat with anticipation. She was silent for a minute after first viewing the face of her birthmother. She then looked at me and said, "She is not how I imagined but that does not mean I am disappointed. I wondered for a long time, most of my life, what she looked like. I guess I look like my Birthfather!" She then started to list all the kids she knows that do NOT look like their mothers! She even commented on the fact that *I* do not look like my mother! Good point!

Kahleah and I now enjoy making plans for a trip together to Guatemala in the near future. I can't wait for the privilege to see Guatemala through her beautiful eyes.

Update:

February 2001

Kahleah turned 10 years old today. We enjoyed a family dinner (just the four of us) and sang Happy Birthday as she blew out the candles on her cake. About half an hour after both Kahleah and Tristan were tucked snugly into bed I heard a faint whimper from Kahleah's room. When I went in to check on her she fell into my arms. She looked into my eyes and said, "Mommy...I miss my birthmother! I think it is because it is my birthday. It is so confusing sometimes! I love her. It is not enough to know her name....I want to KNOW *HER*!" I rocked her and explained that I felt her feelings were perfectly natural and normal. She was so relieved! She told me that she loves me with all her heart but feels that she must meet her birthmother. She also told me that she is happy that we can talk about anything and that she knows that I know she loves me and that I will always be her Mommy.

Kahleah asked me to think about how much I miss my mother (Mom passed away from cancer two years ago) and how I still "feel" her with me and in my heart. She said, "It's hard to explain Mom but I think I feel the same way about my birthmother. I can feel her in my heart." We hugged as we both mourned the mothers that gave birth to us. Kahleah then mentioned that she is "lucky" because she still has a mother to love her, take care of her and make her feel safe. She then told me that she could not replace my mother but we will always have each other. We looked at each other with tears rolling down our faces...she wiped my tears, I wiped hers. She then said, "Like mother, like daughter!"