Navigating the Triad

Triad here means the three parties involved in an adopted family: the child, the birth family, and the adoptive family. Most of the time, having an adopted child is much like having a biological child. He has similar needs. He needs much of the same parenting as any child, but there are times when you’re reminded he is adopted.

 

On an Errand:

As a mother, I can’t help but be proud of my two sons adopted and biological. When people compliment them, I beam and say thank you. One day, I was caught off guard when a stranger asked me this question about Matthew, “What is he, half Filipino and half what?” The immediate answer is half Irish, when I’m on automatic pilot. But at this particular time, I had a chance to think. “Yeah, I guess.” was my answer. Why? So technically, he is not half Filipino, half Irish. So what difference does it make?

 

It was one of those times when the information gap made a momentary distinction in my mommy brain that this child was adopted. It doesn’t happen often, but the fact is, he is adopted and there are certain realities and implications we have to live with. In this case, the truth doesn’t matter.

 

At the Doctor’s office:

We had a slight concern whether he was color blind. The doctor asked if there was family history of colorblindness. The immediate answer is yes, on my husband’s side but no, wait. I don’t know since he’s adopted. We don’t know if either of his birth parents have any medical history of any kind. My immediate inclination for an answer halts as the answer is important. This is a case when truth does matter.

 

In the Car after School Pick Up:

Our eldest son is pretty quick witted for his age. He is very inquisitive and asks many questions. One day after school, as he climbed in the car he asked if a mommy and a daddy make babies together (after learning that certain animals mate to procreate). I said yes. He then proceeded to ask who Matthew’s birthmother’s husband was. I told him she wasn’t married. “Then how did she have Matthew?” He was eight. This son of mine asks so many tough and yet very valid questions that I had it coming Matthew or not (He’s since asked about divorce and why parents divorce). Nevertheless, how do you answer these questions? First, is it age appropriate? Then answer honestly and sensitively. We make it a rule not to give too much away of the birthmother's story because that is her story. 

 

At Home During Birth Mom’s Visit:

We have been very blessed with our birthmom because not only do we love her, but we also really enjoy her. She visits every three months and on occasional last minute request. Our eldest is at an age where he realizes the routine/schedule. He looks forward to her visits. Matthew is still so small that he is clueless most of the time, but there will be time when he will be aware of the routine/schedule, if it continues. Our eldest asked, 

“What should I call her?”

“By her name, as you would anyone else.” 

“But I mean, is she like family or something?”

“She is, in a way a family, like our church family (she doesn’t come to our church but she is also a Christian). She can be your Auntie.” (In Filipino culture, we call close family friends aunties and uncles).

“But I mean, would Matthew call her mommy?”

“No, honey, I’m his mommy. Remember that you and Matthew are the only two who can call me Mommy and your daddy, Daddy. It’s a privilege” (which is also the reason why we don’t let him call us by our given names).

“So what should Matthew call her?”

“_________ (her name)”

 

At Family Get Togethers:

It’s the usual scene for most of us. Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays – we see family. These days, we are more than usual. The most obvious time is Matthew’s birthday. My family wonders why his birthmother and her family have to come to the party. My family has been wonderful at accepting Matthew as one of our own, and understandably don’t want to feel like we’ve adopted his extended family. We have to explain that it’ll be good for Matthew in the long run. When he’s grown and questions why his birthmother chose an alternative plan for him, he’ll see in pictures how much his entire birth family loves him so much and it is in this love that they’ve chosen an alternative plan. We are hoping that the discomfort of today will avoid a whole lot of heartaches and confusion later for Matthew.

 

These are just some of the examples that add to the dimension of an open adoption. It’s different, but it’s reminiscent of our family in Christ – we are all one big family.

The Paper Process

The Paper Process

Woohoo!! We have Matthew! The relinquishment papers have been signed and sent! We’re done with the bureaucracy!!

Or are we?

It turns out, we had to wait 6 months, within which three visitations from a social worker occurred. Then we could go through the actual paper process within the court system.

So what exactly is the paper process?

Originally, I envisioned the paper process to involve the birth parents’ relinquishment statement to be signed, sealed, then sent to Sacramento. We then just wait for verification or receipt and a court date. It turns out that was just the initial process, the easiest, and the quickest. The relinquishment papers were actually filed the day we left the hospital with the baby.

From the time the baby came home with us, we officially became foster family. At least that’s what I think we were. We had three visits from our social worker, mostly just checking up on us and how we were doing as a family. I actually liked the visits. Our social worker was also our counselor. We received numerous advice about how to manage/cope with another baby after having such a gap between the two boys. I was instructed to allow Alan to go on his bike rides for his own sanity while I was allowed to subscribe to a weekly meal delivery. As difficult as it was (those who’ve had children know that infancy is the most trying part- sleeplessness often gets the best of you) we felt we were much more relaxed this time around and we really enjoyed each stage knowing well how fast it ends. Not to mention the full strength I have – not having to recover from delivery and nursing. The first six months were what I call baby moon phase.

After six months came, alas, the paperwork from hell. Alan did most of it, filling in various paperwork, dropped it off at the court house, only to get it right back in the post instructing us to fill out parts that did not pertain to us. Mind, it took them about six weeks to get this back to us – to fill out one line. Did I mention a line that did not even pertain to us? We then had to drop this back off again.

Why not post the papers, you ask. Well, it took six weeks for us to get the paperwork back from the court house. Could you imagine the thoughts we avoided about the postal service and proper stamps or mailing address? This way, we knew it was only clerical scheduling we were waiting on.

The unnecessary painful part, though admittedly, makes for a good story – dropping the paperwork off. The first time around was a  breeze. The second time and the third time around were a mess. First, Alan had dropped by on his way somewhere, which was a bank holiday (one of those bank holidays that no one really ever has so to everyone else was a normal day except for banks and government offices). He wondered why the parking was rather empty. The second time around was me dropping it off on a Monday. As I arrived at noon, I thought the place was closed for lunch so I decided to take Matthew for lunch. We came back an hour later and it was still closed. It was, yet again, a holiday (I didn’t realize President’s day was also on the Monday). 

Do they ever work? 

I came back the following week, this time was not a holiday. This one took another two months before we got a court date, after which, another paperwork was to be filled and filed. Back to the courthouse we were. Although, this time we’ve learned our lessons well. We dropped this one off and thought whew! That’s out of the way. 

The first month passed. Then the next month. And another. Our agency had asked for a court date so we informed them that we’ve not heard back from them, four months on. We were told to contact them to follow up and make sure they had all the necessary items. Well guess what, both Alan and I tried to phone them and no person to be spoken to. No, there was actually no way to speak to anyone. When we did, we were instructed to phone the number where no person was ever to be spoken to, just machines and various prompts and instructions. It was like going on circles except you never know which circle you’re on. Going circles on an abyss. 

Matthew’s birthday came and gone, and nothing. Yes, one year on from taking him home to us we still have no proof that he is in fact officially ours. We can’t leave the country (he has no passport) if we wanted to go on holiday. In fact, we weren’t allowed to leave the state.

When we did get something, we didn’t want to open the envelope for fear of yet more trips to the ever-holidaying courthouse. 

Indeed, it was from the courthouse with a court-date for June 8. Woohoo!! The end of paperwork and red tape!!

 Or is it? We got the birth certificate, yes, but the paper work continues with the Social Security Office...

The Family Leave

Where has time gone? As my unpaid family leave comes to an end, I can’t help but feel anxious. Anxious to leave my little 11-month old boy home behind with a nanny, albeit a very trusted one indeed. Anxious to go back to the stress of trying to cramp a 16-week long curriculum (at least) in 10 weeks. Anxious I wouldn’t find myself back to where I was, very comfortable in the classroom. Finally, anxious as I recall certain trauma I had gone through with my department prior to my son’s arrival.

Six years ago, I had come to my director’s office to get an employment verification. This means that I had to disclose our plans of adopting. At 24 months in our wait, I had to approach our program manager about the process of going on leave just in case we got a call to pick up a child, which often happens in infant adoption. One could say that both my program director and program manager had plenty of time to research my case, family leave in adoption.

A year ago, I came in to tell them my good news. I wanted to talk to them about my options, mainly family leave. I was asked back the following day so they can lay out my options. Both the director and the manager were very happy to present this “wonderful deal” they were able to offer me. I eagerly anticipated to hear the offer. My son was to be born right around week 5, at midterm. They wanted me to work one course but pay me for two courses (per my original contract). This offer meets both my needs and the department’s needs, they said (they want to avoid interruptions mid-quarter). They offered me what they call ASMD (active service: modified duties) and that I was not entitled to FMLA. I was very confused so I asked to double check.

“You want me to teach one course while I get paid for two courses. And do I get to stay home when the baby comes?”

“No, that’s the tradeoff. You can take the day off when she’s (the birthmom) in the hospital. It’ll be like being sick, we can cover your course for a day or two, but you’ll have to come back.”

“And if I wanted to stay home?”

“You can take the other option- you can take a leave of absence without pay for the entire quarter.”

Even more confused, I asked, “Why can’t I work the first part of the quarter (therefore get paid for that part of the quarter) and then stay home (when the baby comes)?”

The other option desirable for me would’ve been that they pay me the entire quarter without asking me to work at all, which was not unheard of, if they really didn’t want interruption to the course.

My director tried to say that she didn’t know as this was a unique case – they’ve never dealt with adoptive parents before (Keeping in mind, this is a university employing nearly 24,000 with nearly 36,000 student population. One which boasts its diversity and equality). Impatiently and with disdain, the program manager finally uttered, “You’re not carrying the baby.”

“I know that. But he’ll be coming home with me?”

“You can take the leave of absence if you want to stay home,” she repeated.

Knowing that we’re not on the same page, and to avoid saying something I will regret later, I excused myself and asked to talk it over with my husband. I left the office angry. No, livid. How dare she say that I can’t stay home with MY baby because I wasn’t carrying him.

I immediately called my union president to ask for help. I felt like I was being screwed all over again.

All over again? Yes, for 5 years, I worked for a California State University. I was laid off the moment my department found out I was pregnant with my older son, citing I had low student evaluation (I consistently had 4.6 and higher out of 5 and I had 4.8 that particular semester. You can’t get any higher than that). That next semester, the program hired a bunch of underqualified newbies. Only that time I didn’t care. I was so excited to be having a baby that I was actually happy to stay home. Nevertheless, injustice was done.

As a side note, of no consequence to my situation, the program is due to close at the end of this semester.

Then why fight it now?

In the grand scheme of life, it doesn’t really matter if I stayed home or not. Summer was around the corner. I won’t be home with my son for only for 5 weeks, right? Then you throw this in the mix – “blessed are those who are meek for they shall inherit the earth.” Meek – quiet, gentle, submissive. Should I have been more blessed if I just let it go and accepted what I was offered? Then I realized, “meekness” or “desiring to submit” does not mean sitting back or allowing things to happen to you. In fact, God calls us to fight for social justice. Blessed is the one who submits to God’s commands and desires, not one’s own. Meekness to me in this case is fighting for the cause of women, of adoptive parents, of those whose work status provides no protections. It was a cause I felt I had to fight.

Psalm 82:3 “Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed.”

Isaiah 1:17 “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.

Matthew 5:9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

John 2:14-21 “¹⁴ In the temple courts he found people selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. ¹⁵ So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple courts, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. ¹⁶ To those who sold doves he said, “Get these out of here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!” ¹⁷ His disciples remembered that it is written: “Zeal for your house will consume me.”^[a]

¹⁸ The Jews then responded to him, “What sign can you show us to prove your authority to do all this?”

¹⁹ Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days.”

²⁰ They replied, “It has taken forty-six years to build this temple, and you are going to raise it in three days?” ²¹ But the temple he had spoken of was his body.

We come across injustices big and small nearly everyday. Yet, we are more than happy to just brush things off and go on our business. Very often than not, we think of social justice as a political issue and not a faith issue. But even Jesus himself was indignant about the injustice in his time. He showed righteous anger. Apart from the fact that my employer has broken a California law, (Family Act), the bible talks about the importance of family. A man cannot be a leader of his congregation unless he has his house in order (1 Tim. 3). The family is at the center of our calling. Love God first, then your spouse, and then your children. Anything else that seeks to separate you from these things should be cut off. We are called to work for our employers as if we were working for the Lord but we are not called to prioritize it. Our priority is the priority of God. Career is not a priority.

So, I decided to fight this case on principle. I also believe that the first few weeks of our baby’s life is very important in our bonding with him. I needed to stay with him from birth. I’ve already missed the first nine months of his life in the womb, I did not want to miss his first five weeks on this earth.

Thus, the union president connected me to my representative and went on from there. I shared with my women’s study small group at my church and immediately, everyone felt the injustice. One of the women gave me her daughter’s number who is a lawyer at the Employment Services in San Diego. She assured me that her daughter could help me for free if needed.

In the end, the case was so black and white that we didn’t need any help at all. Union did not have to file a grievance because, well, it is not only in the Program’s but the entire University’s best interest not to even pursue this case.

Alas, my union representative was also fighting a similar case at UCLA, a bigger campus than mine. However, it was for someone who carried and delivered her own child. Apparently, there are plenty of cases like me who don’t know their rights that they just take it as a matter of fact. I cannot believe that even today, big corporations still get away with this type of injustice. Taking away a man’s or a woman’s right to stay home and parent his or her own child. As if our lives should be solely for the purpose of the advancement of the company. Suddenly I felt I had a bigger purpose to fight.

The whole thing was dragged along. I had originally envisioned the whole thing being in order before the Spring quarter began. Which is the reason why I approached work in the middle of winter quarter as opposed to the end of it.

At the meeting between my union representative, the department heads, and university personnel heads (I chose not to be present at this particular meeting), my department manager tried to convince them that I lack comprehension of things. Of course, she has forgotten that I had written to her to confirm the offer (for me to get a written proof) and choices they gave me. In the end, she was silenced. In fact, I believe she was asked not to speak to me again. Thenceforth, all my business came through another person. The heads asked my union representative what I wanted. She relayed that I didn’t want anything special outside my rights, that is to take the family leave I was entitled to the moment my son was born. By law, that was what was given me and that was what I wanted all along. So my son was born and I’ve stayed home since.

Now I am due back to work. Let me just say that it was worth all the trauma, all the paper work, and all the headaches. These last 11 months I was able to stay home with my two sons have been a joy. My two sons, well my family, are worth more than any job or career there may be. I had to take the risk of not being given a new contract last June, but if I believed God to be a good God that did not matter. He would’ve had something better for me in the end. When we decided that I'd extend my leave of absence for another year, we were well aware that my seniority would fall back or that I may not have a contract renewal come June, but I know God will have something better for me in the end, because HE is faithful.

This week I found out that not only am I going to get my contract renewed, but that I can choose to include the last three quarters I took off towards my continuing appointment review (my seniority intact). Aleluia!!

Matthew Found

In January 2017, 45 months later (keep in mind we were given an estimate of 18-24 months) my husband and I fell in, once again for the 3^rd time, disheartening introspection. We had given ourselves until the end of 2016 before we reevaluated what we wanted to do – keep waiting or just move on with our one child. 2016 came and gone with one failed match. Failed because she was an ICWA (Indian Child Welfare Act). Failed because she had other prospective families she was considering. Failed because we were eventually rejected. If you don’t know anything about ICWA, it was an Act introduced in 1978 to protect and preserve the American Indian community. She was part American Indian, and to make a long story short, we were out of the game to find out later that the birthmother ended up parenting the child. Praise God for protecting us from that possible heartache.

For 2017, we considered and were likely not to renew our adoption certification/license which is up in June. Every year, we had to renew our certification by fulfilling  certain amount of hours of training, education, evaluation, and inspection. Yes, every year, we were reminded of failed adoption, of emptiness, of disappointments and were given a chance for self-evaluation. This time we decided that we would wait until June 2017.

All the while, I was emotionally detached. I gave myself until the end of 2016. I was ready to move on and was resolved to be content with the life we had.

On February 4, the day before my birthday, I went to a spa with my two best friends. We discussed my “doneness” in waiting. If I could recap my life in decades, I could say that I have waited for a child in my 30’s. My husband and I started planning for a family when I was 29, two years after our wedding. We began to wait for God to provide for a child and 3 years afterwards, I got pregnant through multiple attempts of IVF. A year after the son, we decided we would be ready for our next child. Two years passed and no result. We went back for more rounds of IVF and after a few procedures were told to seek other avenues to grow our family. We turned to adoption. This time we thought, “at least we’re sure to have a baby at the end of it all.” Or ARE WE? After patiently waiting our maximum projection of 24 months, still no child. Another 24 months of waiting after that, who are we kidding? So on that day, the day before I turned 40, I declared that I am finished waiting for a child. I am happy with my one son. I don’t want to wait anymore, and definitely not into my 40s.

On my birthday, I opened up to my husband about my “doneness.” He wasn’t done. He wasn’t where I was. We needed to be on the same page. So I told him I was willing to wait until June, but in the meantime, I have paved the way for my future. I have began looking into PhD programs. I started researching possible mentors. During a conference I attended, I even approached a mentor candidate and enquired about his availability. He was due to retire but he referred me to an equally capable colleague. I was moving on because emotionally, I was done waiting.

The point of indifference to my deep desire for this child could be best described by Matthew 5:3-4. “Blessed are those who are poor in spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of God. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” When I gave up all hope, I looked to God as if to say “I no longer put my hope in this idea of a child. I give it up to you. I look to you instead to fill this void, of the deep longing for an idea. I mourned the loss of this idea and allowed God instead to bring comfort that even without this child, I could have peace and contentment.” 

On Tuesday, February 7, my husband called me at 9 am. While having my breakfast after returning from taking my son to school, I was annoyed. Normally I would get texts from him, but today, he called me. “What is it?” I enquired. “Are you sitting down? Do you have time to talk.” He asked. “Yes, I’m free. I’m just having breakfast and getting ready to do some work.” At this point, I was working in two different schools. UCI was my primary work and I’ve picked up a course to teach at the nearby college.

“I got a call from Suzanne (social worker’s name changed for privacy) and she says that we have a birthmom interested in us.”

“Are we the only candidates?”

“Yes, but she is early on in the pregnancy. She wants to meet us on February 23.”

“What?” It’s February 7.

Something about this match though that just sat in us, with peace. We have to wait 16 days before we meet her. Our last match was 48 hours. 16 days was a long time to wait, but we had peace.

“Tell me more about her.”

She sounded perfect. The situation was perfect. We could get to know the birthmother during her pregnancy and our son could understand where his brother came from. We could make plans for this child. We have time to prepare and nest. It was perfect, almost too perfect to be true.

To keep our minds busy, we went on a trip the weekend after Valentine’s Day – to San Francisco. There is something about having something to look forward to that gives you a sense of purpose, or sanity.

The day finally came. She was perfect. Down to earth. Intelligent. Tall. In great shape. Beautiful. Outgoing. Bubbly. Most importantly, we got on very well. Our conversations went smoothly, naturally. We hit it off. We made plans to see each other again in the next few weeks – Met her mother, her sister. Our son met her family and even said hello to the baby in the tummy. They came over to the house. It was great. And no, there is no but. It remains great.

In the next few weeks, we prepared. We had showers. We shopped. I decorated the nursery. We rearranged the room assignments. Everything was what they should be.

She invited me to come along with her for her next scan on May 4 (she was due May 8).

On May 4, I got a text in the morning from our birthmother indicating that her water broke. “Are you in the hospital?” I enquired.

“Should I be?”

“Yes, once your water breaks, you risk infection. So they’ll have to induce you if you are not in labor already.”

I went to work that day (upon our social worker’s instruction), though my thoughts were elsewhere. I arranged not to be back at work. I am going on my family leave as of May 5^th. We got home, had dinner, and tried to go to bed. At midnight, it was futile. We couldn’t sleep. We decided to just wait in the waiting room. She was pushing when we arrived. Her mother had put us on Facetime during the entire labor. We heard everything. Then after 5 hours, we heard a baby’s cry. It was OUR baby’s cry. Could it be? We were elated, and scared at the same time. We were invited in the room and there was our BOY! Perfect. Just perfect. We cried and he was handed over to us by his birthmother. She looked at us as if to say, here he is. And here. He. Is.

Next topics to come: Going on family leave, the paper process and navigating the adoption triad