Growing up, I remember seeing movies where billionaires had private islands and I thought it would be so cool. It didn't matter that I was a light-skinned kid who only burned in the sun and hated sand and salty water. I was more interested in the bragging rights and was drawn to the idea of living detached from the typical social rhythms of life in an advanced society. I was also intrigued by the lives of anthropologists like Dian Fossey and Jane Goodall. I loved the movies Tarzan and Crocodile Dundee. Michael Dundee was the coolest person ever in my mind, and Professor Porter had the best job in the world. As I got older, I realized I did not like the heat, bugs, or the lack of income that the field of anthropology seemed to come with. I settled for simpler, more mundane goals and honestly don't regret it. However, that isn't to say that I haven't had my struggle with feeling relationally isolated. There have been seasons where I have felt as emotionally detached from the world around me as those people were physically.
There are lots of things that can make us feel withdrawn or abandoned, that can make us feel attacked or push us to an offensive posture. Examples can be seen in the ripple effects of most current events. Anyone who isn't aware of the recent Supreme Court ruling to overturn Roe v Wade just might be living under a rock. Since that decision, the topic of abortion has virtually overwhelmed my social media feeds, filled all major news outlets, and dominated conversations across the nation. In a country that has become ever more polarized, this ruling has really highlighted our political and social differences. The topic of abortion and related issues like social welfare, the foster care system, and adoption are again front and center in most of the back-and-forth. So, as an adoptive parent who's worked within the adoption community for a long time, I wanted to share some thoughts about this trend of using these topics as the primary fuel for one's argument.
You may be wondering, "why did he start with anthropologists and islands only to switch to the Supreme Court and abortion?" Truth be told, there are important connections between the islands I dreamed about and the reality of a society that doesn't really understand the complex world of adoption. What I used to think would be peaceful, exotic, or adventurous became lonely, burdensome, and terrifying. For those of us who have actually adopted, especially those who've adopted from foster care or older children, the idea that is largely endorsed by society where adoption is this beautiful answer to curb abortions and rescue kids in need is one that honestly insults the lived experiences of both adoptive families and the hurdles of adoptees. Adoption is not the first-line answer to crisis pregnancy or for children in underprivileged and ill-educated homes. Adoption should be a last resort option in these cases, and shouldn't be seen as the way to fulfill someone's dream of being a parent. Adoption should serve the child and the child only. Two truths here make us adoptive families often feel like we are living on an island.
First, because so much of our culture poorly understands adoption, we are touted as heroes of our own stories, as the rescuer of the child in need. They see the journey as 'done' or the crisis as handled. Inadvertently, this leaves us feeling guilty when we struggle, especially when we are overwhelmed by thoughts of regret (yes, this happens a lot), inadequacy, ineptitude, or some other emotion that is not supposed to accompany the miracle of adoption. Birth parents are either seen as noble if they give their baby up due to pressure or fear, or as the ugly part of society if their children are taken from them later due to abuse, neglect, etc. But too many fail to realize that many of these behaviors are the result of poor resources, a lack of education and support, and/or mental health issues going untreated.
Second, adoption is not 'over' once you have the new birth certificate. The LONG road after the completion of adoption involves fostering attachment, dealing with trauma and missed development, responding to questions and comments from onlookers who often speak before thinking, enduring huge hurdles in marriage, handling trauma triggers and other negative impacts on siblings, and learning to parent in mostly non-traditional and unconventional ways. Everyone (mainly those who have not adopted) wants to give advice about how to handle behaviors, not realizing the amount of education we had to complete just for the home study and the adoption. Facing hardships that your friends and families don't and can't understand is ever so lonely, and the fact we can't talk about the mountains of difficulty we face post-adoption makes our loneliness feel inescapable. Welcome to the island living that plagues so many adoptive parents.
I talk to parents in the adoption community all the time who are struggling. I hear things like "honestly, I don't know if I can do this and may need to look into how to dissolve an adoption" and "we've gotten to a point where we are just keeping him alive until he's 18 and then can move out and move on." I coach parents of kids who can't handle transitions (like from playing a video game to sitting and eating dinner), kids who have broken virtually every item they've been given, kids who have become aggressive with family members, and kids who don't know how to receive affection or loving words. I've referred parents to psychotherapists, psychologists, occupational therapists, and more because of the complexity of issues they faced. I read commentary from adoptees who talk about their experiences and how hard it was feeling so different from everyone. I often see areas in that commentary where their parents could have definitely benefitted from the right support. This is not a fairytale, and one of the reasons so many adoptions are upset or dissolved is because society has convinced people of the myth that adoption is the answer to crisis or that it will fix the void in your heart from infertility. Don't misunderstand me. Adoption CAN be a wonderful story of redeeming insurmountable difficulty and hardship, and can bring great blessings to all involved. But the greatest misunderstanding I see daily is that adoption won't end in island living.
So, if you genuinely care about kids and families, let's be careful how we view adoption, and what ideas we support and perpetuate about it. Then, let's put rubber to the road and offer legitimate and effective support. If you can help families stay together by supporting them through housing, groceries, education, mentorship, education, childcare, etc, do that. If you know anyone adopting, don't forget them when it's finalized. Take them meals, check on them, offer childcare, go help them clean their house, hang out with them on their terms, respect their hurdles, don't offer advice on topics you haven't experienced, let them vent without judgment, validate their feelings (no matter how much you may disagree), help pay for counseling, help pay for a spa day, invest in their self-care so they can have the energy to parent kids with very special and intricate needs. This is not an exhaustive list. But if you know an adoptive family, I can promise you they often feel like they are living on an island - not the peaceful, pristine paradise we imagine, but basically they live in Jurassic Park and the power is out (or at least that's how it feels sometimes).
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