Adoptees ask: "Why Was I Given Away?"

Jane

“Why Was I Given Away? What were the circumstances of my adoption?” are often the first questions adoptees newly in reunion ask. We find that people Google such a question frequently. Lurking beneath these questions is the fear that
they were not good enough to keep. We birth/first parents try to answer in a way that comforts our children, that alleviates their pain that comes from being abandoned. We give brief simplistic answers often portraying ourselves as martyrs or victims or both.

We tell our children “I loved you so much, but I wasn’t ready to take care of you. I wanted the very best for you, and so did your birth father. I am proud of who you’ve become. I know I made the right decision.” Sometimes we sprinkle on a bit of religion: “I prayed and God told me it was the right thing to do.”

(That adoption is a loving, courageous decision is still a popular message. Dr Drew (Pinsky) repeated this at least half a dozen times on the MTV (Pro) Adoption Special aired July 12.)

Alternatively, we are victims. “I was pressured by my parents; your father refused to help me.” Often we are both: “I gave you up because I was told it would be selfish to keep you.”  

We frequently hear the word "decision" in the context of adoption surrender. The use of this word suggests mothers made informed choices as if they were deciding whether to buy a Cadillac or a Ford. In actuality, mothers rarely gathered information, weighed the pro and cons of  “parenting” and adoption, and came to a reasoned decision.

In actuality, every story is different and reasons are complex. In his just published memoir Becoming Patrick, adoptee Patrick McMahon describes asking his mother, Barb Shields, about the decision to give him up. “I know she told me that my father convinced her they weren’t ready to raise children, but there’s got to be more to it. I need to understand in order to quell the pounding beats: how? why? how? why?” …
“My mother hesitates, then begins in a more subdued voice, ‘Well, the truth is I was afraid to death of losing your father. He convinced me we were not ready to have children, and I thought he would leave me if I kept you. I was that afraid.’”

In my case, adoption was the default. When I became pregnant in 1966 and my child's father declined to marry me, I assumed I would not raise the baby (I did not think of her as “my” baby.) I did not ask anyone for help, including her father. This was my problem and my problem alone. And, like other women of the Baby Scoop Era, I wanted to keep my pregnancy a secret. 

I believed that adoption was the responsible and inevitable resolution to an irresponsible act. Placing illegitimate children for adoption was necessary to maintain a civilized society. I’m appalled now on how twisted my thinking was but back then I truly believed that giving up one’s baby reflected a higher culture. I did not know that closed adoptions were a recent invention of social engineers and adoption profiteers. Requiring that single women give up their babies assured male control over women’s fertility, reinforced concepts of proper families, supplied children for the infertile, punished women for indiscretions, assured some degree of protection for children who might otherwise be abandoned, reduced the welfare rolls, and provided jobs for social workers. (See Rickie Solinger's Wake Up Little Susie for an excellent history of adoption in mid-20th century America.)

After my daughter Rebecca (in earlier posts I referred to her by the name her adoptive parents gave her) was born, overwhelming grief forced me to consider keeping her.  I did not have a clue about how to do so. My social worker did not pressure me – but she provided no helpful information either.

I believed that adoptive parents were superior people, gracious, loving, wealthy even though I knew some who were none of these. At a time when just being divorced sullied a woman's character, I knew that having an illegitimate child would brand me as inferior--and being illegitimate would stigmatize my daughter. (“You are your mother’s shame and she is yours.”) I did not deserve Rebecca.

I worried that I could not provide for my daughter her as well as the fantasy couple. Although I had a college degree, I had worked only in low-paying clerical jobs. If there was subsidized day care then, I did not know about it. No matter how hard I struggled to raise her, I could never do as well as the fantasy perfect couple.

I thought that Rebecca would suffer by not having a father. If a mother could not provide the father, she needed to exit and give her baby to a woman who could. My parents divorced when I was in high school and my father had not been around much before then. I envied girls with Ozzie Nelson fathers.

When my heart cried out, “go get your baby,” I responding by concentrating on silencing my heart. Fear trumped love.

I argued with myself for a month, gave up, and signed the papers. I thought the sorrow, the stress, the anxiety would be over, done. I did not know that it was just beginning.

This is the best explanation I can give but I like many birth mothers, I can never explain fully why I did what I did. “Finding truth is like peeling an onion” one of my college professors used to say. The truth is that the truth is often inexplicable.

Adoptees sometimes try to comfort themselves and their mothers by telling them “Thank you for my great life. You made the right decision.” This can be hurtful, akin to a mother telling her child: “I’m glad I gave you away.”

If I were to give advice to adoptees newly in reunion, I would say: ”Don’t dig too deeply for reasons; knowing the reasons cannot fill the void left by the loss of your mother. Dwell on knowing the mother you see before you now.”
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Related posts: I did not give up my child because I loved her;
and Does God Care (about birth mothers) or Is God Dead? ;

A Birth Mother's Lament: Giving up my baby was like dying; 

The Grief of Giving Up a Child to a 'Better Life' ;

Shotgun Adoptions via Crises Pregnancy Centers;
Adoptive Parents: Not a Breed Apart.