Better than the alternative?

Don’t tell me I should be grateful I wasn’t aborted. Just button your mouth and listen to adoptees.

This week I had an adoptive parent suggest that being adopted was “better than the alternative”. She didn’t use the word abortion but given my age we can assume that is what she was referring to.

As this person knows nothing about my life or the circumstances of my adoption, I can only assume this is the chosen narrative she lives by. To pit adoption and abortion against one another as the only two options when faced with an unwanted* pregnancy is to deliberately not see the full picture. There are always other alternatives, from family preservation, to kinship care to a more open, humane way of raising someone else’s child.

Let’s break down the other “alternatives” to my adoption shall we?

1. My birth parents raised me together with the support of both sets of parents.
2. My birth mother raised me with the support of her parents.
3. My birth father raised me with the support of his parents.
4. My birth mother’s parents raised me.
5. My birth father’s parents raised me.
6. My adoptive parents raised me without the secrecy and shame of a closed adoption.
7. My adoptive parents raised me as a team with my biological parents and their wider families.

This list makes me cry, because as unlikely as some of the alternatives seem, they were still possible. There are at least seven ghost versions of me out there whose life was very different. None of those ghost versions of me feel half as much shame as I do for existing. And if you wonder why adoptees are angry, the reason that many of these alternatives didn’t happen was a mix of selfishness and a lack of education around the impact on the child. It was easier for both sets of parents if there was a “clean slate”. It was not easier for me – although I have to believe they thought it was, or where would I be? When adoptees speak up about this stuff, use it as an opportunity to educate yourself.

Being adopted is not easy. That is what I was saying when the “better than the alternative” comment came in. Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough when I said being adopted is not easy. Let me be clear about the depths it has taken me to. I say this not to elicit sympathy but to be as truthful as possible in the hope that my truth may help others feel less alone: there have been times when I have felt so utterly desperate that I wished I had been aborted. On bad days, the recurring thought that goes back and forth in my brain is: “You shouldn’t be here.” “You shouldn’t be here.” “You shouldn’t be here.” When I was asked by a health professional whether I had thought about suicide, I said “No, but I have thought that my husband and children would be better off without me.”

Imagine if you will, a very large, very grand restaurant with hundreds of demanding diners calling the waiting staff over to place an order, complain about a dish, ask a question, or pay the bill. Now imagine in this vast, incredibly noisy restaurant there is only one waitress rushing back and forth, trying to please every customer and almost fainting on her feet. That is how I experience life, this is a normal day in my brain – and even more acutely since my reunion with both biological parents. 

So unless you have a lived a “shift” in my head, please refrain from intimating that I should be grateful I wasn’t aborted. It’s one of the most dangerous and damaging narratives for an adoptee to hear.

Of course I am grateful to be alive and on this planet with my wonderful friends and family, but that does not negate my struggles.

Further reading:

Adoption Is Not a Universal Alternative to Abortion, No Matter What Anti-Choicers Say, Randie Bencanann

*I know many of the pregnancies in the 50s and 60s were very much wanted, but society made it impossible for the mothers to keep their babies. My own situation is that I wasn’t planned (read: wanted).

Top 5 take-aways from The Open Nest conference 2017

Myths and Monsters of the Child Protection System: examining truth, identity and belonging through poetry, film and photography. 

This was my first adoption-related conference, and what a banger! Sombre surroundings in the Foundling Museum’s picture gallery, with a line-up packed with talent and courage. We heard from adult adoptees and care leavers, adoptive parents, kinship carers and Professors Anna Gupta and Brigid Featherstone – all wrapped up with an improvised, impassioned speech from Lemn Sissay.   

Here are my top 5 take-aways, with tips for adoptees and links for further reading:

1. The power of stories

Storytelling is part of the human condition. A great story is more powerful and persuasive than facts and figures. Yet the dominant stories we hear about adoption and child protection are not the whole picture. Those in control of the narrative – professionals, policy makers and adoptive parents, create them.

This is why it’s crucial that we, as adoptees, tell our stories. And not just us but first families too. Birth mothers, in particular, deserve better stories. As photographer Lizzie Combes said If you don’t see yourself reflected (or you don’t see yourself reflected positively) this can be hugely problematic. It creates stigma and is very damaging to self-esteem.

The Open Nest project with birth mothers was incredibly powerful and I would love to see the Poem Portraits in a public exhibition, if not on a bus or tube poster. I’d also like to hear from first fathers, who rarely appear on mainstream programmes such as Long Lost Family.

2. The importance of language

For many looked after children, the only information they have about their early years is in their file. A file is a collection of documents written by strangers using professional wording (aka jargon).

Families can be misrepresented if social workers are not careful about the language they use in meetings and reports. This is people’s lives, history and heritage we are talking about. Once something is written down, it becomes more credible even if it is not a fact.

When negative language is used about birth parents, children can grow up fearing this “lurking” presence, which can bring on feelings of shame. If my birth parent is a bad person, does that mean I am too?

The advice for social workers is: remember the human in front of you. Can you switch to assuming the positive rather than assuming the negative about this person?

3. Movement and creativity can ease trauma

Trauma is held in the body, and in order to live fully we need to get it out. Rebekah Ubuntu said moving her body is not a “nice to have”, it’s what keeps her alive. She recommended sport and dance as good examples. I would add yoga to this list, and I would love to hear how you use movement to deal with trauma and anxiety.

Rebekah Ubuntu leads questions and answers

Creativity was one of the themes of the conference, and Lemn Sissay stressed the importance of art in all its forms. He said creativity is not “for someone else” or “just for artists”; it’s at the heart of who we are. Many of the speakers used poetry, imagery and Rebekah Ubuntu showed a heart-breaking film shot at her mother’s graveside.

4. All families are dysfunctional

I could have punched the air at this point. What a refreshing, freeing statement. Thank you Lemn Sissay!

As Lemn said, let’s not kid ourselves that adopted children are going from dysfunctional birth families into functional adoptive families. That all families are in some way dysfunctional is a universal truth that is not acknowledged.

So why haven’t some people made this connection? It’s too scary to admit we are all fundamentally the same.

5. Keep talking and hugging

Silence + shame = a dangerous combination. That the two are a lethal mix seems obvious, but both are incredibly pervasive in adoption. Lemn later added: “silence is not resilience”. It’s damaging to grow up in a family where adoption is rarely discussed; the elephant in the room.

Silence is the enemy / Clogged into throats

@anneghemwall

When Lemn Sissay went to live in a children’s home he was not hugged. Worse than that, he said, was the lack of acknowledgement that what he needed was a hug. Imagine the emotional resilience of a child who lives without touch. 

Now, if you’ve read this far go and give someone in your dysfunctional family a big hug.

Thomas Coram peeking out from behind Lemn Sissay in the Foundling Museum picture gallery

The Open Nest founders and trustees have big open hearts and I am so happy the charity exists. Please support them if you can, this is incredibly important work that truly makes a difference.

Useful resources:

Brene Brown is amazing on stories

AdopteesOn is a podcast where adoptees speak about the adoption experience

Lemn Sissay's Origin Stories on Radio 4

Kristen Neff on common humanity and self-compassion

Six Word Adoption Memoirs

The Primal Wound, Nancy Newton-Verrier