Connections

This past weekend, Molly and I, along with Molly's mom and 1F, drove down to visit our grandkids. We had a great time visiting with the family. AG, 1F's 'birth-daughter' (if that's the word for their relationship), is quite the little chatterbox these days, and quite the little charmer. She was also most anxious to demonstrate for all of her guests, most especially 'Auntie 1F', that she is well on her way to potty-trained. All together, it was a wonderful visit. Molly's mom came along so we could take a four-generation photo of her, Molly, 1F and AG all together (I love those four-generation pictures; they sorta remind me, in an odd way, of the big fish eating the middle-sized fish, who is eating the small fish, only in reverse). We took a bunch of those photos, including one in which AG laid on her side across the laps of the three grown-ups. Very, very cute.

And it got me to thinking about connections - the connections we have with other people. I actually think about that a fair bit, from time to time. I'm adopted, and I have connections to the family that raised me, and my birth-parents, and their families, and Molly's family. And, in the person of AG, we are connected to the family that adopted her. That connection would exist, whether they were willing to have any relationship with us or not; it is, of course, gratifying in the extreme that they are not only willing, but openly ,and warmly, and graciously so. And likewise, in my person, my birth- and adoptive parents have had a connection to each other for the past 53 years, even though they only met each other a few years ago.

A very heart-warming aspect of our connection to AG's family is the way that they've adopted us as grandparents for all of their kids, including the two boys they've had 'in the natural way' since AG came into their family. I have no idea how to explain the phenomenon, but they are not the first couple I've known (or even the second or the third), who have struggled with infertility for several years, finally deciding to adopt, and then the adoption seems to 'cure' the infertility, and the mother who couldn't conceive for so many years, suddenly starts popping out the babies like the fertile-est Myrtle you've ever known (AG's parents now have three kids, spanning less than two years in age). I don't know to what extent adopting AG 'brought about' the natural conception of their sons, but I am so happy for them that it happened the way it did, and that our family could possibly, by whatever convoluted stretch, have helped bring it about.

Connections. I think of some of the work that my dad and I have done, tracing our family tree. And the times we've found things like great-great-grandfather leaving his father and mother, as a young man, and moving three states away - and right across the street from the family whose daughter would become our great-great-grandmother. And then I look up and down our street; or, I look around the church at Sunday Mass; or I look around the room at one of our community's prayer meetings - and I wonder if any of the young people I see there might become my sons-in-law, or my daughters-in-law. Or if any of my friends might become co-grandparents of my grandchildren (I have a few friends whose kids have married each other, and the relationship of the two sets of grandparents, who were already good friends before their kids married, is just really, really cool).

My birth-parents, who hadn't seen each other, essentially since my birth, finally met each other a couple years back, when my birth-mother was visiting friends in birth-father's state, and called him up, and they got together, with their current spouses. That probably wouldn't have happened, if I'd never searched for and met them. And yet, that connection between the two of them has existed for as long as I have.

And of course, in the person of AG, 1F is forever, and unavoidably, connected to F-bomb. It is what it is; much as I might wish not to have that connection to that man, the fact that AG, and her family, and our connection to them, are the outcome of our connection to F-bomb, are more than sufficient 'compensation' for the aggravation.

I apologize for the 'rambly-ness' of this post. My thoughts on it all are pretty 'impressionistic', and not terribly well-formed, just yet. But I find myself thinking a lot, lately, about the many and various connections we have to other people. . .

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Edit, May 8 - It occurs to me that this post works very well in the context of the upcoming Mother's Day holiday - motherhood being the original and fundamental 'connection' in all of our lives. Having watched eight children grow in Molly's womb, I am sometimes envious of the deep physical connection that she has with them. Of course, they all have half my DNA, as well as hers, and I have done my best to be a sure and loving paternal presence in their lives, but they never had an umbilical cord connecting them to me, and they never kicked my spleen from the inside. . .

And that also touches on some of the wonder I've felt at meeting and knowing my birth-mother. Sometimes, as an adoptee, you can kinda feel like you fell out of the sky, into the waiting arms of your parents. But when I met my birth-mother, it was like, OK, this is where I came from - this is the woman in whose belly I grew, and between whose legs I entered this world. And it just made my life seem grounded to the earth in a way it hadn't been before. . .

So - rich blessings to all mothers - our culture doesn't value your rich contributions to its ongoing life, not nearly as much as it once did, and certainly not as much as it ought to. But, just speaking on my own behalf, I honor your role, and your service to your children (which we all are, in one form or another). Thank you all. . .

All My Grandchildren

I’ve posted before about 1F’s daughter, who she gave up for adoption (I called her AG – Adopted Girl, get it?). The adoption is an ‘open’ one, which means that the birth-mother and the adoptive family know who each other are, and at least the possibility of a relationship between the birth and adoptive families exists. This is a very different arrangement than my own adoption was, and it presents a few unique challenges.

1F essentially chose the adoptive family herself. If it were possible, she wanted her baby to be adopted by a family from one of the Christian communities related to the one our family belongs to (and in which 1F was raised). So, she asked our community’s leadership to ‘put the word out’, to find a family looking to adopt. They found a couple who had been married seven years, with no children up to that point; they lived in a town close enough to OurTown to be reasonably convenient, but far enough away that we weren’t going to be running into each other, both of which were desirable parameters. The couple was even a fairly close ‘ethnic’ match to 1F and the baby’s birth-father. We knew roughly who they were – both the husband and wife had spent some time in our community before they were married – but we didn’t really have a close relationship with either of them.

Anyway, in order for the adoption to go through, they had to pass an evaluation by the agency which was handling the adoption, which they did, with flying colors. They were in the hospital for AG’s birth, and the adoptive mother cut the umbilical cord. When she was two days old, AG went home with them, and has lived in their house ever since.

The adoptive parents (I’ve called them AM and AF – Adoptive Mother and Adoptive Father; other than Molly and myself, clever pseudonyms aren’t my strong suit) have been extremely gracious about extending a relationship to 1F, and also to Molly and me. Early on, 1F was going for almost monthly visits, although lately, they’ve been more like quarterly. Molly and I were invited for AG’s baptism, and they pointedly called us forward to stand with the family during the baptism. It was very heart-warming.

Interestingly, having not conceived a child for the first seven-plus years of their marriage, virtually as soon as AG came into their home, AM was pregnant, and their son was born before AG was ten months old. They had another boy before AG’s second birthday. Give ‘em a baby, it seems, and they don’t wanna shut off the faucet. . .

The first and most obvious challenge of an open adoption is the simple matter of names and identities. From the very beginning, 1F has been very clear that they – AM and AF – are AG’s parents, and she makes no ‘parental’ claim on her. Their family has taken to calling her ‘Auntie 1F’, like one of those close-friend-of-the-family ‘aunts’ that many of us have grown up with. I don’t know what plans they have for letting AG know that ‘Auntie 1F’ is her birth-mother. But that’s a decision that doesn’t need to be made for several years yet, anyway.

Molly and I have tried to be especially solicitous of the integrity of the adoptive family. We’ve had, I think, four visits with them (AG is two-and-a-half). Molly would just as soon have no contact with them, I think, out of a concern to stay utterly out of their parental way. But, adoptee that I am, and having met my own birth-family, I’m too keyed-in to my genetic connection with AG to just leave it alone, if her parents are willing to let me have some contact with her.

The only ‘restriction’ that AM/AF have placed on our family has to do with our other kids – they’ve asked that we not bring our kids to see AG. I understand their concern. Our kids have friends in their community, who they’ve met at Summer Camp and various other places, and they’d rather not advertise to the whole community who AG’s birth-family is (even though, by now, it’s something of an open secret). Moreso, they don’t want our kids coming by saying things that would be confusing to AG (“Hi, AG, I’m your Aunt 6F”; for one possible example).

But, all things considered, the ‘open’ adoption has worked really well. AG is growing up secure in her family, her parents are secure in their relationship to her, and 1F, Molly and I are gratified that we can know her, and see her grow up. A lot of that depends on us – the birth-family – being clear on what our relationship to her is, and what it isn’t, and being utterly respectful of the integrity of her family. If 1F thought of herself as AG’s ‘real mother’, it could cause serious problems, but that isn’t remotely the case, and it’s worked really well.

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The last time Molly and I were down to visit with AG’s family, we were sitting and talking with AM and AF, when AF said, “We’ve got to come up with something for AG to call you guys, besides ‘Auntie 1F’s Mommy and Daddy’. That’s just too awkward, and we need to come up with something better.”

We agreed, and I was about to suggest something like ‘Uncle Desmond and Aunt Molly’, when AM said, “We’ve been thinking of calling you ‘Grandpa Desmond and Grandma Molly’; would that be OK with you?”

Was she kidding? I would LOVE to have her call us ‘Grandma and Grandpa’, but ohmigosh, are you sure?

She was, with one proviso – we couldn’t just be AG’s Grandma and Grandpa, we had to be ‘Grandma and Grandpa’ to the two younger boys, also.

We were stunned. We had come for a visit, being just a bit shy about our relationship with our ‘grand-daughter-who-isn’t-really-our-grand-daughter’, and by the time we left, we had three grandchildren. Such an amazingly gracious, generous offer to us. Honestly, they don’t have to have a relationship with us at all, but they’re happy to have us be ‘grandparents’ to all three of their kids.

I’m thinking, when 1F chose an adoptive family for her baby girl, she did even better than she knew. . .