When is soon too soon for an international adoptee to go back to the country of his birth and confront the people and the circumstances behind his adoption? When does an adoptee decide that it’s time to puzzle together the pieces of his life pre-adoption and consider the possibility of a reunion with his birthparents and/or relatives?
The biggest, and most problematic, question, though, is should adoptive parents bow to the demands and/or wishes of their adopted child to go back to their country of origin and possibly meet the people who conceived him, even though the child is too young to understand the repercussions of his desires?
While working as a post-placement coordinator at a nonprofit adoption agency a few years back, my main task was to read adoptive parents’ reports they were required to send to their children’s respective countries of birth. Occasionally, the parents would report about their children’s desire to see the people who “made” them, especially if the children were having a difficult time acclimating to their new families or were in the midst of an identity crisis.
From my perspective, many new adoptive parents instinctively panic when this topic is broached because it immediately casts doubt on their own parenting skills and initial wisdom in adopting, as well as their cherished need for the adoption to be a “success”. Some parents will see their children’s desire to search and find the other half of themselves as a permanent fissure that will always taint their relationship with them no matter how many times they’ve acknowledged this to be an important phase of adoption. Other parents will see this as an opportunity to strengthen the bond with their children even more because they recognize every human’s need to know where (and from whom) they came from in order to establish their own particular space within whichever community they find themselves.
But, back to the problem I stated at the start of this post: When is it inappropriate for adoptive parents to take their adopted children back to the source of their children’s beginnings?
A couple years ago, as part of Vietnamese Adoptee Network, I got to know two single women who chose to adopt a child from Vietnam, a boy and a girl respectively. I would schedule playdates, lunches or dinners with them, mainly because I enjoyed playing with their kids. The kids were all around cute, intelligent, witty and rambunctious. The mothers were very independent-minded, smart and ambitious. At the time, they were great company. Our relationship, as I look back on it, was more of a service I was offering and the mothers were willing to accept for the sake of their children’s adjustment to being an adoptee. However, I never talked about adoption with their kids because 1) they were too young (not that they didn’t understand they were adopted from a country named “Vietnam”; good or bad, their mothers energetically fostered a self-awareness in their children about this fact); 2) I wanted to play the big brother role and be someone they could look up to, rather than a 30-something headcase who was still struggling with the intricacies and absurdities of his own adoption.
But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Cracks in the façade of mutual appreciation and selflessness appeared and I could no longer see any benefit in me hanging around, acting as if I were an ideal adult version of their children.
The mother who adopted the girl still kept in touch with her birth family by letter and had collected a small cache of photos, each showing her parents, siblings, cousins, etc. Some of the photos were on display around the house just like any other family portrait and her daughter could name each family member. This archive of photos and mementos that the adoptive mother was developing for her child to one day look back on and cherish was not only an amazing feat, but also a touching memorial to her daughter’s loss of her original family and homeland. But, before we get too maudlin about this extraordinary gift to her daughter, I have to tell you that I slowly developed severe reservations about the metaphorical crisscrossing of wires that could have been happening in her daughter’s mind. As she grows older, I can only imagine that this young girl, either in her private thoughts or in explicit conversations with people around her, will have a difficult time coming to terms with her two Selves: the affluent one that lives in the U.S. with a woman she freely calls “mother” and the one that, for reasons unbeknownst to her, was not allowed to stay with the two people who conceived her, along with the siblings whom those two people chose to keep in Vietnam. Think about it. How would you feel if you were in her situation being aware of these two competing facts and having to make sense of the reasons why you are here instead of there?
The situation with the mother who adopted the boy really touched a raw nerve in me when I received a letter from her a couple years ago. For New Year’s, this mother enjoyed sending a short letter to her friends and family along with photos regaling us with her and her son’s accomplishments and the milestones they achieved in their bonding process. However, this last letter I received from her described their visit to Vietnam and their trip to the orphanage from which she “found” her son. The thing that especially upset me was the photo of the boy standing in front of his birthmother, her arms draped over his shoulders, both lacking any perceptible expression on their faces, as if they were asking themselves and the people looking on, “Now what?”
When I read her letter and looked at the photos, a facetious voice suddenly popped into my head: “Look, here’s the person who gave birth to you (and gave you away because the family’s too poor to feed another mouth) and here’s the orphanage she placed you in. This is the country I was telling you about when I read to you during all those bedtimes. See all these people who resemble you! Now, you’re not a stranger anymore. Well, son, say goodbye, it’s time to go back home to the U.S.!”
Think of the hurtful message their visit sent to the birthparents:
“Hey, just visiting the old stomping grounds, and, oh, by the way, here’s your son, the one you gave up for adoption! Isn’t he swell? We’re only here for a couple of days, and we’ve got another temple to see and a plane to catch tomorrow back to the ol’ US of A. So, say your Hi’s and Goodbye’s!”
In fact, the above examples bring my generation and the newer generation of Vietnamese adoptees in stark contrast. Because the War was so unforgiving toward thousands of families in Vietnam, the bonds between us and our parents were, in most cases, permanently severed and we were, therefore, truly orphaned. The circumstances surrounding today’s adoptees from Vietnam are not as brutal, but they are no less unfortunate. Even so, today’s adoptees will have a better chance of reconnecting, if not with their birth parents, then at least their birth relatives, if they so choose (and vice versa). And, if I’m not mistaken, nowadays adoptive parents are given much more information about their children’s health and birth families.
Because of these fortuitous circumstances, I believe today’s adoptive parents need to consider long and hard the real, hardcore consequences of sharing information about their children’s birth family with their adopted children. Some pointed questions I would have liked to have asked those two mothers to consider are:
- What if any one of the child’s relatives emigrates to the U.S. in the future and asks to see the child? What if this relative asks to live them or even asks for some kind of assistance?
- What if one of the parents dies? If the child knows about his/her parents and is old enough to travel to Vietnam, what obligation does he/she have to pay his/her respects to the person who gave them life? How would an adoptive parent deal with feelings of guilt or remorse that the child might feel by not being with his/her birth parents in their last moments on earth?
- If the adoptive parents are currently communicating with the birth parents and/or relatives, will they allow their adopted children to continue this communication and, if they do allow it, how closely and for how long should they monitor this activity?
I’m sure you could come up with many more questions that adoptive parents should ask themselves before involving their adopted children in that other half of their life, which ultimately belongs to them, but if handled without forethought could cause a lot of pain and confusion for both the children and themselves, as well as the birth parents/relatives.