Open Adoption Bloggers: Interview with Sally Bacchetta

I recently had the pleasure of interviewing author Sally Bacchetta, of The Adoptive Parent, for the Open Adoption Bloggers Interview Project. Sally is an adoptive mama to a daughter and a son. She's been involved in this crazy world of adoption for a few years more than I have, so I always appreciate hearing insight from those who are further down the road than I!

Poor Sally will likely keep having to answer questions from me, even though this interview project is over. I excitedly sent off my first batch of questions (yes, first), and within a matter of a day or two, I'd thought of more things I wanted to ask her. Now that it's all said and done, and I'm putting the final touches on this post... I've thought of more questions. My apologies in advance, Sally! :)

One really nifty thing about this lady is that she doesn't just blog... she writes books. Specifically, this one. Keep reading below to get a sneak peek at what's inside her recently released "What I Want My Adopted Child to Know."

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For those new to your blog, can you give a little background on you and your family?

Despair and my husband (Dennis) led me to adoption. After a few years of trying to conceive followed by a few years of the infertility circus, we called it quits. I had developed some serious complications that made it almost impossible for us to conceive and life-threatening to me if we did. So it was time to move on.

We meandered our way through the thoughts and emotions of healing from infertility, and eventually Dennis suggested adoption. After much discussion and prayer, we emerged together at peace and ready to embrace adoption as our path to parenthood. We had been married for 8 years when we adopted our daughter, now almost 5, and last year we adopted our son, who just turned a year old. I can’t imagine becoming a mother any other way.


Was there a moment in time that really drew you to open adoption over other types of adoption? Or was it something you sort of "fell into" unexpectedly?

I never considered (and would never consider) a closed adoption. Our children’s biological families are theirs. Their origins are theirs. I consider their birth families among the most important people in my kids’ lives, because it’s they who chose this life for my kids. We want our children to know their birth families as much as possible because that’s knowing part of themselves. We want them to be able to ask questions and share feelings as their lives evolve and their thinking about adoption changes.

Selfishly, I could never be at peace without contact with my kids’ birth families. I needed to meet their birth mothers, I needed to hold their hands and look in their eyes and ask them why they chose adoption. I needed to tell them that it’s OK to change their minds, that it doesn’t matter what anyone’s expectations are, it doesn’t matter what papers are waiting to be signed, it doesn’t matter how much Dennis and I want children… that this is their baby, and they are the mother, and no one else knows what’s in their heart or head, and if they decide to raise the baby themselves, then that’s the right choice. I needed them to look at my face and know that I meant what I said.

And because we had those opportunities, I can love my children freely. I can love them without guilt or uncertainty. I can love them without any insecurity about their birth families. All because of openness.

And I have to say that we use the term “birth mother” in our family because our children’s birth mothers asked us to. Our children call their birth mothers by their first names and refer to them in conversation by their first names or as “my birth mother.”


Do you feel that your family and friends are overall supportive of your family's open adoption, or have you encountered more questions and concerned statements from those close to you?

I guess they’re as supportive as they’re able to be. I’m fairly certain none of them really understand the unique relationships we have with our kids’ birth families, but I don’t expect them to. The only time it bothers me is when someone asks an ignorant question like, “Aren’t you afraid she’s going to change her mind after she sees him/her?” If you have to ask that, you really don’t get it.


If you could tell your children's first parents anything, what would you tell them?

Thank you. I love you. I love seeing you and my kids together. I hope you’re OK. I worry about you. I wish I heard from you more often. I’m afraid of sharing too much about how amazing the kids are because I’m afraid it’s painful for you. You inspire me. (I tell them those things already.)


Having been through the adoption process twice, how did your experiences compare or differ from each other? How did you process the emotions and the grief side of placement the second time around?

This is something I often think about, yet being asked here, now, the question has proven much more difficult for me to answer than I originally expected. I felt very little grief the first time around, and there are several reasons for that. One, "M," our daughter's birth mother (herself an adoptee) was very young, and it was really easy to understand why she chose adoption. Two, we met her the night before we brought our daughter home, and we haven't seen her since. Three, our journey to parenthood had been terribly long and incredibly painful, and I was literally light-headed when we met "M" and later, our daughter. I was emotionally intoxicated by the "miracle of adoption." It was like falling in love... the world fell away... I felt nothing but pure bliss. Within a few days of homecoming my thoughts turned to "M," and I wondered how she was doing and if her life still fit. Still, she had been so clear and decisive about her decision I never imagined her grieving. Curious, yes... wistful, maybe. Not grieving.

I'm sure that's why I was stunned by the near-obsession I've felt for our son's birth mother, "J." We have a more open relationship with "J" (emails and visits in addition to pictures and letters), and we spent quite a bit more time with her before bringing our son home. "M" has always been sort of a mystical character in my mind, whereas "J" has always been real. Our relationship with "J" snares me in uncertainty - how much detail should I share? Why hasn't she written back yet? Does she ever regret her decision? The up-side about our openness is that I can ask her these questions, and she seems sincere when she says she does not regret her decision. I, of course, worry that she may yet, that she may be protecting herself from grief. But I take her at her word and trust that she will let me know if things change for her.

I know this is a long answer! I think about this a lot. I'm obviously definitely not anti-adoption, but I think the adoption industry can do a much better job educating prospective adoptive parents in this regard. I think most adoptive parents don't realize what angst and healing most birth mothers go through... for some, peace never comes again in this lifetime... and I think that piece should be in place before adopting. Otherwise, it's like having surgery without giving informed consent. Potential adoptive parents should know the WHOLE picture, and that includes talking to birth mothers (with both positive and negative experiences) and adult adoptees (both pro and con adoption) before making a decision. For me, the issue is general under-education by the adoption industry, not adoption itself. One of the reasons I wrote my book is to help change that. I think there's great value in partnerships between adoptive parents, adoption professionals, and birth parents... working together to make sure that "open" is really open for everyone involved.


What do you think has been most influential for you (or any member of the triad) in terms of support?

Maybe surprisingly, birthmother/first mother forums and blogs are the biggest influence on me. I find them generally difficult to read because of the intensity and prevalence of pain expressed there, but for that same reason, I think they’re vital to me as an adoptive parent. I think all adoptive and prospective adoptive parents need to actively cultivate their understanding of birth mothers’ experiences. I think Ann Fessler’s book, The Girls Who Went Away, should be required reading for anyone considering adoption.

Even at the time of our second adoption I was very naïve about the adoption industry. Both our children’s birth mothers had family support and no one pressured them into adoption. Both did consider raising their babies, and both would probably have been able to make it work. Each ultimately chose adoption for her own reasons, but since they were (and still are) at peace about their decisions, I never questioned the rhetoric that adoption is a “better” choice than single parenthood or unwed motherhood. At the time, I had no reason to question it.

Since then, through the writing of my book (What I Want My Adopted Child to Know: An Adoptive Parent’s Perspective), I have met and spoken with countless birth parents, extended biological family, and adult adoptees, and my understanding of adoption is much more comprehensive. Certainly, no one birth mother speaks for all birth mothers, and no group speaks for all people, but there are universal themes running through adoption that I think adoptive parents need to understand.


In terms of their adoptions, what do you most want your children to know as they grow up?

Several things – that’s why I wrote my book :), and each is a chapter in What I Want My Adopted Child to Know:

• I Would Do it All Again
• We Really Are Your Parents
• I Regret What I Can’t Give You
• You Are Not Different Because You Were Adopted. You Are Different Because You Are You
• To My Daughter/To My Son (“I can’t imagine any mother loving her child more than I love you.”)
• I Want to Be Part of Your Process
• I Think About Your Birth Parents
• Before You Search (“The truth is that your birth story has no real bearing on the opportunity you have to create the life you want.”)
• I Will Always Love You

What are some of your favorite traditions you enjoy with your children?

Cooking and baking. Reading! Making up songs, exploring the natural world, and writing love notes to each other.

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Thank you, Sally, for such a lovely interview! I've enjoyed getting to know you a little better. Thanks for letting me pick your brain!

Besides her blog, further information and resources can be found at Sally's website, The Adoptive Parent.

I'm in

By the skin of my teeth. :)

Deadline ends today for the Open Adoption Bloggers Interview Project.

Open Adoption Roundtable: Birthdays

I've been absent from the "roundtable" discussions as of late, not because of being uninterested in discussing important issues in open adoption, and not because of being unwilling to think through the complexities of such an intricate and unique relationship. It's simply been because of time restraints, and other things being a higher priority than blogging. :)

However, this topic is especially timely for me, as Sassy's second birthday is less than a week away. I really wanted to participate this time, and as life would have it, have been given much more "fuel for the fire" in terms of topics and events to discuss.

In response to two of Thanksgivingmom's questions, most applicable to us:

What do you/your family do to integrate open adoption and birthday celebrations?
We've only been at this thing for two years now, so we really only have one birthday (other than, of course, the day of her birth) under our belt, in the most technical sense. Of course, that will change within the week. Prior to Sassy's first birthday, I emailed FirstMom and asked her if she'd be open to receiving a birthday party invitation (which happened to fall on Sassy's actual birthday that year). She did not respond, and we understood that to mean she just wasn't ready yet. I was disappointed, but accepted that. She sent some very thoughtful gifts in the mail ahead of time so that Sassy could open her presents on her birthday. (She did the same for Christmas a couple weeks later, as a matter of fact.) We also received the most amazing card and handwritten letter in the mail on that exact day. She wrote to Sassy and told her how much she loved and had missed her, but that she was so excited she was turning one. Like any mother, she wrote about all the wonderful things she knew God had in store for her precious girl, and how she is uniquely loved, for always. I cried tears of joy upon reading that letter. It was like finding a brick of gold in my mailbox, and I promptly put it away in Sassy's "special box," where I keep all the little scraps of this or that from her biological family for her to have one day.

What do you wish you would see in future birthday celebrations re: involvement with your child’s adoptive parents/birth parents?
I have always wished for some acknowledgment from FirstMom on Sassy's birthday each and every year. I can't imagine going through that day without any sense of remembrance or recognition. I hope (and at this point, feel relatively secure in that hope) that Sassy will always be remembered by her first family on her birthday each year, whether that comes in the form of a phone call, a birthday card, or a gift sent. It has nothing to do with the amount that is spent on such items, but EVERYTHING to do with the fact that she is loved, and therefore time was invested to shop for, pick out, purchase, wrap, and send something to let her know they are thinking of her and loving her and that they remember it's her special day.

Additionally, if I were to hope for more than what I'd consider the "bare minimum," I would like to be able to celebrate Sassy's birthday with FirstMom, at least one year. I wish that someday she will be able to join us for her party, to sit amongst our closest family and friends as one of us, and to revel in the sheer joy of watching our daughter experiencing the thrill of her big day -- the cake, the presents, all of it. I can't say I've had the same level of confidence in this hopeful participation, but I've dreamt of it since the day she was born.

As I sat addressing FirstMom's invitation to Sassy's birthday party a few weeks ago, I noted to my husband that I was fully prepared to not hear a response again this year, but that at least she would know we remembered her and wanted her to feel included and welcome. Additionally, being aware of some very specific happenings in FirstMom's life right now, we could not have been more surprised to receive an email, just days after mailing the invitation, telling us that FirstMom was planning to make the drive that day and join us for the party! I cried again those same tears of joy, in awe of all that she will be able to experience by being here that day. Not just reading it in an update, or flipping through pictures, or watching a video, but to actually BE here and participate... it's amazing to me, and I feel so grateful for that opportunity! Sure, there are worries about her meeting our family for the first time, visiting our house for the first time, and just the inevitable emotions the day will bring... but I feel confident that it will ALL be worth it in the end, if for no other reason than I will have that one more memory for my daughter. Actions speak louder than words, and the fact that FirstMom is setting aside her current challenges to make the effort to be here for Sassy will ring much more clearly than my reminders someday to Sassy that FirstMom does love and care about her.

It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?

So. That was last week. And now it is this week. And as it turns out, we've gone from preparing our family members for our unexpected visitor, to hanging in the balance to see how the remainder of this week unfolds, and if FirstMom will be able to join us after all. This new branch of our adoption story has been an interesting one, and I've been contemplating when, or even if, I would feel "ready" to discuss it publicly. To be honest, I still don't feel ready. I still feel concerned, nervous, and anxious, but I know that life is about to change in a way I was not prepared for, and there's really nothing we can do about it but hang on for the ride.

Sassy is going to be a big sister. We've known this was coming for several months, but in some ways, it still feels as much of a shock as it did the day we heard the news. FirstMom will be delivering another baby girl as early as this week, though her due date is not until after Christmas. She will be parenting this precious little one, and for that, we are grateful. I cannot fathom FirstMom going through a second relinquishment. However, I would be lying if I said I was not nervous. Not about her mothering -- not in the least. FirstMom does parent in some different ways than we do, but I have no doubt whatsoever in my mind that she loves her children and cares for them in the best ways possible. But, I am worried about the logistics of many things, and the day-to-day changes it will bring for them. While some aspects of this pregnancy are different than her last, we see many similarities. It breaks our hearts. It's not how it's "supposed" to be. Some of it is circumstantial; much of it is choice. It's a rough cycle to try and break when it's just too "easy" to remain at status quo.

We love FirstMom dearly. We want the absolute best for her and her family. She's in a totally different mindset this time around. It's very clear that she IS happy, and we thank God that this family is being spared from the loss of a child a second time in two years.

But... it's still hard. It's still unfair. It's still a punch in the gut to a woman who couldn't conceive if her life depended on it. And, MOST importantly, it's heartbreaking to think of my daughter, my precious baby girl, who will one day ask why her mom placed her, and then parented her sister just two short years later.

Open Adoption Roundtable: One Small Moment

From the roundtable this time: write about a small moment that open adoption made possible.

When I first read this week's discussion topic, I must not have been paying close enough attention. I thought Heather was asking us to write about a small moment that made open adoption possible. My mistake. :)

But I think I'm on the right page now!

In thinking of our particular situation (and maybe others can relate), the entire relationship has been made up of a lot of small moments. In the past almost twenty months, we've had very few earth-shattering moments where our relationship with "A" is concerned.

And though I would still consider our adoption to be an open one, it is often more "semi-open," or even somewhat "closed" in practice. It's not for lack of trying; but, this is how things have more often than not played out.

So, maybe all the more because of that fact, I greatly treasure the one visit we have had since our sassy little girl was born. She was six months old at the time--the perfect age for still being a cuddly baby, and yet having so much awareness of her surroundings, responding to others, and being fully entertained (and entertaining) with smiles and laughter.

We spent the entire day with A, her family, and friends. We visited with those we had not see in six months, and we met others who had known our precious girl before she was born, not yet having had the opportunity to see her in person. She was passed from person to person, family member to friend, grandparent to grandparent, and mother to mother. She did beautifully the whole time, and on that day more than ever, I was SO grateful for her easy-going nature and flexibility in unfamiliar situations.

She was a baby, though, and naptime did come. I had wondered how we would manage to not push her past her limit, while still allowing A to savor every moment with her. I tried not to worry about it too much beforehand, and just decided we would take the day as it came.

It came time for a bottle, and A gladly did the honors. I loved that she got to snuggle her sweet baby as she ate. There's something so precious about feeding a baby--your baby. After mealtime was over, the room started to quiet down as others went into the kitchen to eat or went outside to chat and play games. People stopped coming and going as much, and the room became still for the first time all day. Maybe others sensed the need for a few quiet moments between A and the daughter she'd missed all these months, or maybe everything just fell into place.

She began to rock our sweet baby. She relaxed her arms so she would lay back in them. She cuddled her and stroked her face. She quietly "shhh'ed" her, just like all mothers do with their tired babies. It was the most natural thing in all the world, and in a way, I felt like I was intruding a bit by being present in the room. I quickly took a few pictures of the two, and then left to sit outside with my husband and enjoy the cookout. I told him what a precious thing was going on at that moment, and how I only wished our little girl would stop her attentive nature for just a few moments, so that she wouldn't be raising her head to look at me. We smiled at what a lovely day it really had been.

Days later, as A and I were corresponding via email about the visit we'd had, she noted that, among other things, she loved being able to rock our daughter in her sleepy state, and how it brought her such relief to see her craning her neck to watch Mommy. She commented that, as a "birth mom," she was so happy to see our girl safe and secure. She had been worried that their strong connection as a family, similar physical attributes, and other characteristics would make us feel sad or upset on that day, and how she hoped we understood that our parenthood wasn't being threatened.

I wrote back immediately and told her that, first of all, I had been worried that she had been upset by the neck-craning, and second, having a sense of acceptance and biological heritage for our daughter on that day was the thing I had most been hoping for on our visit. How funny that the things we were each fearing for the other were the very things that meant so much to us.

I will never forget the image of A rocking our baby girl. It was as if they'd never been separated. I'm so thankful to have the pictures from that day, but I'm also so thankful for the quiet moments between a mother and her child.

Open Adoption Roundtable: Wish List

The theme this time is: share your wish list for your open adoption. See the other responses here!

I feel like someone has just given me the permission to dream of my "ideal" situation, all that I hope for our relationship with our daughter's first family to be, and even some of what I fully expect it will not be. I'm continually learning (and re-learning) that this relationship -- not unlike any other -- is a two-way street. I am only in control of my half of the road, but there is a great responsibility in that.

If I could make a wish list in our situation, it would include things such as:

• More frequent visits
• Consistent and reciprocal communication
• Sharing my daughter's birthdays with her first mom in person rather than via letters, cards, packages sent, and late night emails (but, I feel I should note that I AM thankful for those things as well)
  
• More honest and open discussion of feelings and emotions -- a throwback to what it once was
• Clear answers for my daughter about some fuzzy areas of her story
• Communication from her biological father that comes with a pure intent
  
• Medical, social, and family information from the paternal side
• An open relationship with her biological father's side... someday... maybe...
• The ability for my child to pick up a phone, write an email, or send a letter to either of her first parents, and the expectation that her communication will not go unanswered
• A feeling of acceptance and love for her in ANY part of her biological family
  

My wish list for our open adoption is fairly extensive (I am a particular person, after all!), but my ultimate wish, prayer, and hope can be summarized into one basic thought:

That my daughter will be completely fulfilled, happy, and at peace with her life and its unique circumstances.

That's really all any parent could ask for, isn't it? We all want our kids to be happy, healthy, well-adjusted. We want them to be kind, respectful, honest, and responsible individuals. We do our best to mold them into the people they were born to be, and to be what God created them to be. We never, ever want to see them hurt from something outside of their (and our) control, and that is often times a real and present fear in the adoptive family.

So, even if our adoption never achieves the new heights of openness that I myself would desire, I wouldn't change it, as long as my sweet girl can understand why she was placed, who she was meant to be in life, and how much she is loved by all who are blessed to call her part of their family.

Open Adoption Roundtable: The Beginning of Openness

Heather (on whose blog you can find the list of Open Adoption Bloggers) has organized a great idea to start a discussion on various open adoption-related topics periodically. The first discussion prompt: recall the beginning of your experience with open adoption.

2006 was a difficult year. Having received an infertility diagnosis and trying to come to grips with life not at all turning out the way we "planned" it, we were now additionally trying to muddle through the initial thought process of adoption.

Adoption was honestly never on our radar screen until a fertility doctor suggested it, knowing our severely low chance at conceiving a biological child. At the time, I thought "What? Us? Adopt? That's what people who are rich or famous (or both) do! Not ordinary people like us!" It just seemed so against the grain of everything I'd ever imagined. Would I be able to love a child who wasn't biologically mine? Wasn't adoption horridly expensive? Would we be able to afford it? Would I regret not experiencing pregnancy? Would others view us as less of a family, or our child less valuable in some way? And worst of all -- what if the real parents came back for the child?

It's a tough place to be in, for sure. But within a few weeks, I was throwing myself into researching adoption. I read books, browsed message boards, listened to others' experiences, attended seminars -- anything to just try and gain some knowledge about this topic of which I truly had NO clue or experience!

As I started to gain head knowledge, I came to the realization that I already had "heart knowledge." Years prior to beginning the adoption journey ourselves, I had completely fallen in love with a three-year-old boy in my class at a daycare/preschool where I had been working at the time. He started in my class and brought with him a fair share of baggage. This sweet little hearing-impaired boy had an unstable home situation. He acted out quite a bit, but I began to see that he had no sense of stability or consistency. I loved that little boy with all my heart, and he developed a trust in me. He responded uniquely to me in a way that even co-workers noticed. The end of the day would come, and he'd go home. It broke my heart, and I would literally think in my mind of how I could provide for him, if opportunity arose. I imagined tucking him into the bed in our spare room, watching him sleep and knowing he was safe and sound. I knew I couldn't love him any more if he'd been born to me.

All these years later, I saw how that experience had already shown me that it didn't matter if your children were biologically yours or had no genetic ties to you. What mattered was the love that is unique to a parent and child.

So... I could love a child that wasn't "mine." And it could be 100% natural, in a way that you truly almost "forget" that your child has someone else's nose and funny little quirks.

So, I could adopt, as long as we did so in a closed or semi-open fashion. Because, my 2006 self thought, open adoption means you are co-parenting. And we won't have any of that.

Do you ever look back on things you always said you'd NEVER do, only to realize some time later that not only are you doing them, but that it's also just a normalcy in your life?

More research, more reading, more studying, more exploring... but possibly most importantly, keeping an open mind. I honestly DIDN'T think we'd pursue an open adoption in the beginning days of our adoption experience, but we also didn't shut the door completely. We left ourselves open to how God was leading us, and that is what makes the difference.

I began to listen to stories of women who'd relinquished their child. I listened to adoptive parents who were in open relationships with their child's first parents. I saw how many adoptees truly desired some level of openness, knowledge from their past and heritage.

And I started to realize... it's not about me. It's not about what I want or what I am comfortable with. It's about what is in the best interest for the child, ironically the triad member who has the least say in their being adopted.

So as we started to move out of our comfort zone, we realized that most women who place children are doing so for various reasons, but similarly because in some way, they feel that this is the best choice for their child.

We began to see these parents in a new light. Thinking back to the questions we'd had at the beginning of the process, I could turn around all of those questions to the fears that someone else might be having in a very different situation. "What? Me? Relinquish my child? That's what drug addicts or teenagers (or both) do! Not an ordinary person like me! Could anyone else ever possibly love my child the way I do? Isn't adoption horridly complicated? Will I ever get over losing my child? Would I regret not experience parenthood? Would others view me as less of a woman, or my child less valuable in some way? And worst of all -- what if the real parents shut me out of their lives?

Certainly, it's against the grain of everything anyone's ever imagined.

Eighteen months into this open adoption journey, and I honestly don't know where it will lead. We've had varied levels of contact and openness, at the choosing of our daughter's mother. We have gone through times of daily contact, and we've been through periods of communication drought that can last months at a time. So in that way, I am still learning, still feeling my way through it all.

I assumed when we checked the "open" box on our paperwork that doing so would equal a consistent, ongoing relationship. I had lofty dreams of frequent visits, weekly telephone chats to catch up as we would with a family member, and being guests in each others' homes. I envied adoptive parents who spent holidays with their child's first parents or even went on vacation together. I expected to be braiding each others' hair and having pillow fights by this point (well, maybe not quite that extreme!), but it just isn't like that for us right now.

And that's okay. It's just different from what I imagined. I wish I had known then how I feel now, and know that sometimes relationships can wax and wain, and that it's all a normal part of life.

The one thing I would tell my 2006 self, if I could, would probably be that life DOES become normal again. Life will be good again. You will not forever live in this barren land of childlessness, and although it will be through a manner you'd never expected, it is wholly worthwhile and satisfying. Don't feel as though you have to force your way through the challenges of adoption (of any kind), but take life as it comes. Be on guard that your relationship with your husband and with God doesn't deteriorate, but remember that (as much as you hate to hear this cliche) everything truly does happen for a reason.