So Thursday afternoon I sat at my kitchen table for about 2 hours and babbled on about adoption as I do with Jesse Smith, the Ulster Publishing reporter.

It was actually quite enjoyable..Jesse being a cool mellow guy that he is..and, well, I am aways pretty happy talking about adoption. Anyhoo, he seemed pretty excited about it all, was going to do some more research, was happy it was a slow week so he could do more..and, joyous to me, seemed to totally get it. When someone leaves my kitchen table and has the appropriate heebie–jeebies over children as commodities..then I know I have done my job.

Blame the ( Adoptive Parent) Editor

The one thing he hinted at, or actually said right out, was that he was concerned about his editor as she is an adoptive mother. So while I was thrilled that he said the story could very well go “county wide” meaning not just the local Kingston paper, but the Woodstock, the New Paltz, and I think they do Saugerties too!I am thinking, I am ashamed to say, that if it didn’t go that way..it was because of this editor. In fact, in the realm of total honesty, I even thought,”Hmmp..probably why my letter was at the bottom of his in box!” And so yeah, I was already mad at this women I did not know, for doing things against me that I had no proof that she did, and really, they only basis for these judgements… her adoptive parent status.

And yes, of course, I should know better!!! I count adoptive parents among some of my good friends and closest allies! The Margies, the Lynns and Kelllys,, the Dawns, the Judys, PEAR..yes! I should know that WE A NOT AGAINST EACH OTHER! I mean, how often have I preached that! Mad as I am at myself, I still totally fell into the trap…totally head over heals! In my defense, I guess I had assumed that she was a “typical” adopter, not imagining that she could be anything else really. But you know.. adopted for the wrong reasons, believed the wrong things, fear based, etc. Yup, every freaking bad stereotype one could have!

So, I am lying on the couch Friday afternoon, watching America’s Next top model marathon (horrible guilty pleasure!), when the phone rings and it is the papers again. As Jesse forgot the camera on Thursday, they wanted to take some pictures for the article. Of course, I say yes and immediately start cleaning up the mess that those people who live in my house managed to make in a mere 24 hours, thinking that my hair is super useless and I am going to look like a monster…lol. But, I do manage to get it all together in time, the kids get home from school, I clean them up too as they might be photographed too, and wait.

Now, again, I will totally admit that I can be imagining things here, and it really could be just that she wears many hats being that it is a small paper, and even if that it is not the cases, heck, I don’t blame her.. I would probably do the same thing.. but the photographer was.. the editor adopter lady!( only using such terminology to demonstrate that my mental space was thus!) Not that I caught on to this fact immediately. I probably should have if I was the kind of person who bothered paying attention to names, but I don’t. First she mentioned that she was an adoptive mother ( another? I think), and then she inferred that she’s not usually the photographer or something..and THAT is when I went..ohhhhhhh.

But you know.. at this point I didn’t really care all that much. I was already in it…and it was really ok. She didn’t have horns and looked more nervous than I would think she should be. And of course, it wasn’t JUST pictures, but we got to talking. Turns out I was familiar with the agency that she had gone with to adopt her son. They were listed in the local phone book even though they are out of Vermont so I called them back a few years ago, did my pregnant and considering routine, and got their very yucky packet. And I told her that. How they were very, very aggressive in perusing me. They called on the phone at least four times “checking to see”. They sent postcards for months! And while she did defend them, she did not defend their activity in my case, but spoke of her own experience with them. And for her they worked.. and yeah, at this point..even though we are still being very civil to each other.. my internal cynical dialogue is making some nasty commentary. You know things like “oh course you like them..you got a kid!, etc) But really, she was speaking about their post adoptive services.. how the moms that go through there have counseling for life..and that the APs have to pay for it. How they really support open adoptions, etc..good stuff.

Internal Cynic is still having a bit if a field day, however, as they paid medical expenses, had a relationship for months pre surrender,etc. You know, the typical agency supported practices that people think are OK, but we do know how coercive they really are. So, my face is making the “yes, yes” smile while we stand opposite in the kitchen.. but at this point I realize that she really did mean well by all this and did think it was OK…so Internal Cynic holds it’s tongue a bit, though, again I have to admit, I am still thinking “adversarial”.

And then, something happened. She is speaking of contact that they have with their child’s mother and when contact fell off. Internally, I am ready to hear some typical blah-blah reasoning, but she speaks of how right before her son’s fifth birthday he communicated that he felt very sad as he missed his other mother..and they acknowledged that sadness..helped him write to her, and called to prepare her for his very strong feelings…..and she, standing in my kitchen, started to cry.

Adoptive Mothers Have Feelings Too

And became a real human being…crying standing in my kitchen..just another person who is hurt by adoption and the pain that it has brought to her child, whom she loves, who is hurting too.

And, it was at this point that I said,”Do you have some time? Sit down. Can I get you a cup of tea?”

And I made the tea, got the box of tissues out, and we sat down, together, on the same side of the kitchen table, and the real communication began.
And she really wasn’t so dern typical after all.. or maybe even she is, but I am so jaded by fighting these battles, that finding a regular A-parent who is educated with adoption issues, whom I do not know on line, that I cannot believe that more A-folks are really more evolved than I had thought. But proof is in my kitchen.

And she really was the real deal.. had read The Primal Wound and did not dismiss it as bunk, but was able to see it in her child, do the correct acknowledgement, and take steps to mitigate it. In fact, she expressed frustration at her child’s therapist who sees “anger” in her son, but doesn’t know why..even though they know it is the adoption! Which prompted a whole conversation on how most therapists are clueless to adoptee issues, why I am going into the field for that reason, etc. And of course, why it was, a that point, that the mother had fallen off the grid….how open adoption is way more painful than any agency seems to prepare mothers for, but how necessary and better for her child… which she could plainly see.

There was much said over tea, much agreement, and a real physical bridge built right there. Never underestimated the power of a shared cup of tea. We talked about searching..how I could help her find mom maybe, etc. And, when she said, at the end, how her son had two mommies..which wasn’t a big shocker to me, I could accept that just as easily as she did when I corrected her and said “No, three.. he has three mommies”…which she agreed to.

And an hour later, when she had to go and take the next picture, whether she had originally come to check me out or not, I felt really pretty good about the exchange… and I think, so did she.

Rye asked, when she left, if that was my first counselling session. I have to say that something about my kitchen and a cup of tea does wonders…everyone loves too sit at my table and spill their guts. In fact, it was later that day, telling the story to Eileen, that I decided that when O do have my own practice, I shall recreate my kitchen..the 1950’s Grandma feel that it is.. so people can relax, over the table, non confrontational like, with a cup of tea.

And though I am ashamed that I feel into the trap of stereotyping, this really did teach me a very good lesson… and for that, I am Thankful.