There is no shortage of adoption memoirs. One may ask what I think my story will add to the already abundance of literature available written by adoptees, adoptive parents and birth parents. My story is not particularly unique, I have not experienced an extreme trauma as a result of being adopted and in fact consider my upbringing to be fairly typical of any other child raised in a small midwestern town. I think it is the very lack of uniqueness that makes my story significant. Adoptees are people we see and interact with every day. We don't bear any physical indicia of our adopted status. We are simply person raised by parents other than those who gave birth to us.
What separates adoptees from biological children is not external, but internal. The quest to find ourselves, which is natural in all humans, is hampered in most cases by the fact that we do not have the chance to interact with our biological families. That is what my story is about.
I was born in the summer of 1971 and was placed in the custody of my adoptive parents eleven days later. They were a middle class, loving couple in their early 30s. Needless to say, they were the first, and to this date, the only parents I have ever known. For those who are not adopted, questions may arise about the relationship between an adoptee and his adoptive parents. I do not pretend to speak for all adoptees, but can speak from my experience.
The couple who adopted me are my mom and dad and they will always be so. Nothing in life can ever change the bond that has formed with my adoptive parents. It was them who provided me with the material needs in life. I never went without a home or food. The clothes I wore were often purchased from used clothing stores and were not always the latest style. Nontheless, they were always in good shape and I was well provided for by my parents.
More important than the material goods provided by my parents, they provided me with ample love. My mother and father were both involved with my endeavors in Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Explorer Scouts, youth baseball, basketball, soccer and the other typical activities of a youth in the 70s and 80s. When my younger brother (also adopted from a different biological family than my own) began to play soccer, his team was without a coach. At that time, soccer was not the "in" thing, it wasn't trendy to be a soccer parent and most Americans had a complete ignorance of the game. My father, notwithstanding his full time work schedule, volunteered to coach the team. He went to a local library and began to read everything he could find on the game, learning the rules, the positions and strategies. He spent time in our garage making equipment to be used in soccer drills. He used what I considered to be a rather innovative field positioning of four forwards, two half back and four fullbacks rather than the tradition 4-3-3 positioning.
When I was in Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts, I was always rather proud of the way my sundry patches were attached to my uniform. My mother did an excellent job of sewing them on, not only in the correct places, but with great care so they looked as if they had been professionally sewn.
I have read of adoptees who view their adoptive parents as temporary custodians until they could find their biological families, often times resorting to the strategy of "you're not my real parents" when family quarrels erupted. Although I may have said this in my adolescence when tempers flared, such statements were false. My adoptive family is my family. My adoptive parents are my real parents.
They never concealed my adoption from me. I have always known I was adopted. For me, adoption is a normal part of life, nothing to be ashamed of and something to be proud of. I had a biological set of parents who loved me enough to place me with a family who could provide things my biological parents, being only 18 at the time, could not. I have an adoptive set of parents who opened their house and hearts to me and expended not only financial, but emotional resources to raise me to adulthood.
My happiness with my adopted family should not be interpreted as meaning I had no curiousity about my biological family. For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to meet my biological family and thank them for the sacrifice they made on my behalf. I have always wondered if I looked like my biological father or my biological mother. I wanted to learn the family history and see where I came from. Like Alex Haley, I wanted to discover my roots.
My interest in finding my biological family has been a hot and cold affair. Sometimes the interest was stronger than others. Although I have always wanted to meet them, I have not always been compelled to search for them. Once, before I was 18, I called the hospital where I was born trying to get access to my records. I was told the records were sealed. When I called the county courthouse requesting my birth certificate, I was asked if my parents were married when I was born. I truthfully answered that they were not and was told such records were kept Des Moines and I would not be able to get access to them without a court order. I began to wonder why this basic information would be withheld from me.
When I was 21, married and expecting my first child, I contacted the agency responsible for my adoption and requested medical information about my biological parents. I was very excited when I received the information, although it did not contain much I didn't already know. I did learn that my biological mother had siblings. I asked the agency if my biological mother had ever contacted them about me and was told she had not.
This ended my first serious attempt to find my biological family. I had heard from other adoptees and seen on TV information about search organizations. Knowing that these cost money I didn't have, I resigned myself to the notion that "someday" I would search.
When I entered law school in 1996, my curiousity sat at the back of my mind. Perhaps when I was a lawyer, I could have the records opened. This was not, however, my priority. My main foci were on constitutional and criminal law. I did not take any family law courses. Television movies had equated family law with sorrow and emotional squabbles in my mind. I prefered to stay away from such topics. In the Fall of 1999, I registered for a seminar class on adoption. I thought it may provide me with information on how to get my records opened. The class was fascinating. I learned about issues in adoption I had never considered before. When it came time to choose a paper topic, however, I was firm in my resolve to write a paper advocating opening adoption records. My search for sources had turned up only a limited number. I figured that the paper would be a struggle to write.
As the paper began to unfold, however, I came across more and more sources. The majority of them agreed with my position that the records need to be opened. As I studied the legal, social and psychological arguments for opening the records, I felt my position strengthening. As I read about reunions, both sucessful and unsucessful, I realized I needed to do something about finding my own biological parents.
Doing a search was costly. As a student I did not have the resources to hire anyone to search. I also realized that a search may help me, but it would not help other adoptees in Iowa. Because I truly believe that closed records are a serious issue I decided to take a different approach. I contacted both my representatives in the Iowa General Assembly. Only one of them responded. I have put the correspondance with that representative on this page. My proposal was to change the law to reflect the needs of adoptees, adoptive parents and biological parents.
It was too late in the legislative session to introduce bills, but at least my representative was looking into the issue. Continuing with my strategy of using my knowledge of the law to my advantage, I filed a petition with the Linn County District Court to unseal my records on February 14, 2000.
On February 22, 2000 I contacted the court again to see what progress was being made on my petition. I was shocked and angered to learn that they had not even checked to see if my records where on file with them.
On Thursday, February 24, 2000, I checked again. I was rudely informed that Linn County had no record of my adoption. I then called the agency responsible for my adoption, Catholic Charities and was informed that the adoption took place in Johnson County, which is where my adoptive parents lived when I was adopted.
I contacted the Johnson County Court and was told that order hour was from 1-2 P.M. Monday-Friday, but that Tuesday-Thursday were the best days to bring in the order because Mondays and Fridays dealt with trial motions.
I anxiously waited five days until February 29, 2000 and took my petition to the Johnson County Court. Exemplary of the lack of a solid procedure for opening the records, the court attendant took my petition to a judge. Several minutes later she returned and told me I had to time stamp it with the Clerk of Court who would send it up to the judge and the judge would then decide if a hearing should be set. I complied and filed the petition with the probate division.
On March 9, 2000, I called the court to check the status of my petition. I was told that an order setting a hearing date had been sent out the day before. I rushed to the mail box and anxiously opened the envelope. The hearing was set for March 23, 2000 at 8:30 A.M.
On March, 22, 2000, I issued a press release.
On March, 23, 2000 I went to the courthouse with my adoptive parents and wife. I called all three of them as witnesses. MY adoptive parents testified regarding their feelings about my birth parents and that they did not fear reunion. My wife testified regarding my mental state and anxiety felt over this issue.
The record for the hearing remains open until I submit photocopies of statements from books on the psychology of adoption. The judge will then issue a written opinion. You can read a newspaper article about my case here.
