Two Tough Conversations With My Adoptive Mom

Julie McGue

Author

Before I was old enough to know what it meant, I learned that my twin sister and I were adopted. On several occasions during our formative years, my adoptive parents pulled my sister and me into the living room to discuss our adoption. During these talks I learned: that my folks waited six long years to become parents; how badly they’d ‘wanted’ my twin sister and me; and, that they would assist us should we desire to look into our adoption. I heard their words, but an inner sense told me that my adoption story was “better left alone”, digging into it would upset my parents. I had a wonderful childhood. I felt loved and cherished. My place in my family and the world was secure, so deferring an adoption probe was an easy decision. (see blog July 17: Three Things Adoptees Wonder About)

My perspective about “leaving well enough alone” changed when I had a breast biopsy at 48. I decided I not only needed to look into my adoption, but that my health outlook might depend upon it. The big problem was that I could not start such a quest without first speaking to my adoptive parents. My adoption papers were in their safe deposit box. They had never passed them on to my sister or me.

Tough conversation #1:

I knew my audience, so it was an easy prediction to make: my adoptive father would support my efforts, but my adoptive mom would be disappointed and upset. I suspected that Mom would feel threatened by our birth mother re-entering our lives. So, I decided the tricky conversation should occur in stages. This would allow everyone time to adjust to what was in the offing.

First step: I telephoned my folks and explained that due to my health issue, I wanted my birth family’s medical history. I needed my adoption papers in order to get started on that. Mom said she’d speak to Dad about pulling out the documents from their files. I’d dropped two bombs: my health was in jeopardy and I wanted to launch an adoption search. The conversation was short. I was counting on my mother’s concern for my health to ease the shock of my document request.

Second Step: I set up a date later in the week to come to their apartment and collect the paperwork. For five days, I prepared the words I planned to say: I loved them; my search was not about how I felt about them or the job they had done as parents; their role as my parents was secure; and, that I’d enlighten them at every stage. As predicted, Dad was quick to say he understood while Mom did not hide her displeasure.

The outcome: The search for my birth relatives had many starts and stops and I was forced to change search angels several times. These were some of the obstacles I faced: my birth mom used an alias on my OBR (see blog post on 3/27, “What’s On your OBR?”), Illinois adoption law changed in 2011, my birth mom was initially reluctant to connect, the incorrect spelling of my birth dad’s last name. Over the course of the three years I spent digging into my personal story, I made an effort to update my adoptive parents. Throughout the ups and downs, I had the sense Mom was relieved when my birth relatives seemed destined to be strangers.

Tough conversation #2:

There was a six-month period of time when my birth mom had denied contact with my sister and me and then abruptly changed her mind. Our reunion was swift. In two months we progressed from exchanging letters through an intermediary, to phone calls and then a face-to-face meeting. During these months, my adoptive father was in poor health.

First step: I decided to wait to disclose the contact I was having with my birth mom until my adoptive dad had recuperated. This meant that my parents would learn about the meeting with my birth mom after it happened. While I felt that delaying my news was the prudent option, it also felt dishonest. Sometimes wrong is right.

Second Step: Once again, I scheduled a time to see my folks at their apartment. I rehearsed the sequence of shocking news: my birth mom had changed her mind about connecting, we’d exchanged letters then phone calls, and had met in person.

The Outcome: I hoped that my adoptive mother would be relieved that I’d finally claimed my family background and health history. I also hoped that after all the heartache and years of obstacles I encountered, my adoptive mother might be pleased for me. I was dead wrong. Within minutes of learning that I had met my birth mom, my adoptive mother stated that she did not want this woman in her life.

My Dad and I were stunned. After this proclamation, I did not share any news about reunions or updates on the search for other birth relatives. Four years skipped by and Mom softened. She agreed to exchange letters with my birth mom. Throughout this stretch of time, Dad was overtly supportive. I believe he was instrumental in lifting my mother through her doubts.

In sharing these two very tough scenarios, I have two comments. First, I waited until middle age to begin my adoption search because I was content with my life, and I feared ruining my relationship with my adoptive parents. Second, I would absolutely tackle all of this again, in spite of the numerous difficulties. Having a complete picture of one’s existence is a treasure I didn’t know I craved, didn’t think was possible, and hadn’t known how to tackle. To have attained a full reckoning of my personal story is an achievement with which I am profoundly satisfied and tremendously proud.

“Having a complete picture of one’s existence is a treasure I didn’t know I craved, didn’t think was possible, and hadn’t known how to tackle.”

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