Eighteen Years Later: An Adoption Story, Part Two

Eighteen Years Later: An Adoption Story Part Two
(c) Michele Fried

Adopting Zachary was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. If you don’t mind, I will take you from 3 days old to 18 years later as fast as I can… we drove to the hospital to meet the birth mother and the agency social worker and take home our baby… sounds simple but you know it wasn’t. After having my husband pull over due to my intense cramping from nervousness, we almost never got there. Arriving at the hospital we learned that the birth mother was so emotional that she couldn’t get dressed to come back to the hospital to sign her surrender papers. After what seemed hours, I was convinced that at any moment we would be told to go home without the baby. As I shared with you in Part One of this article, we had already experienced many adoption miscarriages and I truly felt that I could not bear another loss. We eventually were called into an office in the hospital where we were introduced to the birth mother and her mother.

There were hugs, tears and surprisingly some laughter. She and I caught one another trying to look at the other. I remember holding hands and hugging her. I remember feeling oddly calm at one point -- just knowing that I liked her. I told myself that I would be able to wish her well and that it would be okay if she took the baby home. Was I preparing myself for disappointment? Was I struck by how hard it would be for her to let this baby go? She carried him; she birthed him; she met him, held him and fed him. I did not experience any of those things. Yet I knew, with all of my heart and soul, that I would love this baby forever.

By some sheer miracle, I heard this young woman say, “I want them to have the baby.” The social worker and her mom praised her and I just yelled out and embraced my husband and cried. How do you thank someone for the greatest gift in the world?

I didn’t meet my son in a fairy tale way. Chuck was told to pull up the car and the social worker took the baby bag of clothing I brought. It was a very cold November day and I did not know what to pack. A neighbor gave me some clothes to choose from and I put them all in the bag. When I first met him, I was standing inside the front door of the hospital and he was handed to me bundled in every piece of clothing I packed! He was beautiful. He was perfect.

I don’t remember the ride home except for sitting beside him in the back of the car. The next thing I remember is sitting on our bed and laying the baby in front of me. My husband left with the neighbors to go shopping. We had no diapers, no formula, no crib, nothing. I never wanted to prepare as I have always been a bit superstitious. I was alone in our apartment, sitting in our queen size water bed with this tiny baby. I truly did not know what to do. So I undressed him and turned him every way. I dressed him again and sat there, stared at him in amazement, and waited. Chuck returned with formula and toys! He came home with a large motorized airplane that rode around the floor and lifted up a bit as if it would be taking off. He came home with a new video camera. He forgot the diapers.

Fast forward past the projectile vomiting, never crawling and walking at 10 months old…to age 15 months. My husband went to some adoption conference in NYC… why I can’t remember… this is the same guy who let me do all the learning about adoption! Now he was so involved in learning more himself… he came home excited with new information on what “open adoption” really meant. He reported that it didn’t mean being “picked” and sharing the photos and letters we reluctantly sent to the agency. It meant bigger (and scarier) things. Scary for me, yet it seemed like “the meaning of life” for my husband. I thought it meant that he didn’t love our son as much as I did. What he was purposing was preposterous. Yet somehow in the next few months I was convinced to write a letter to our son’s birth mother including our telephone number and inviting her to call us.

Our open adoption grew slowly and through the years we have shared great family events together such as birthdays, family picnics and a Bar Mitzvah. With all of these grand times, there were also times when we had no contact from his birth mother. For 18 years I have worked my hardest to maintain our open adoption. I have done this for Zack. Now that Zack is an adult, I of course have the past 18 years to learn from. I still can’t answer one question though… and no, it isn’t would I have chosen an open adoption? That is the easy question -- of course I would, again and again. As the benefits absolutely out weigh any of the challenges. The question I struggle with is would I have protected Zack as much as I have? I am a protector. That is what I see mothering as, but mothering I know also consists of letting your children try to fly on their own. And I have a hard time with that one.

I often made up excuses to cover for Zack’s birth mom not calling, arriving late or not showing up for a planned visit. I remember something my son’s birth grandfather said to me when I was devastated that his daughter didn’t show for the annual picnic. After all, how could I cover up that one? We did travel to Philadelphia for the visit. I was angry and very sad. I just didn’t know how it would make Zack feel and that unknown scared me. “It’s about time Michele that you stop painting a perfect picture for him. You can’t cover for her and try to protect him all the time. It’s not real life. Real life is the truth and my daughter’s choices are often irresponsible.” In reality he said some harsher things about his daughter, but his message was clear. Did she hurt Zack by not showing up? Was I hurt because I was projecting my feelings onto him? Was this open adoption too much for her after all these years?

The memories of the past many years rush by me, often second guessing my actions. I realize now that I sought after the perfect open adoption. Only to learn that there is no such thing. It’s just a relationship – a relationship with real people in real life circumstances. I routinely answer open adoption questions from our clients, my answers often come from my very own experiences. I will always feel close to Zachary’s birth mother even if she doesn’t keep in touch the way I envisioned. I may try, but I can never pretend to know the great sacrifice she made. I will always be grateful to her for giving us the greatest gift in the world.

Eighteen years ago, I wrote in my journal:

January 17, 1988
Today our baby has been with us for two months. Our beautiful son was born on Saturday, November 14, 1987 at 11:01 am. He was 7 pounds 1 ounce and was approximately 20 inches in length. We picked him up on Tuesday, November 17, 1987. We named our child Zachary Louis Fried.
I am at a loss for words. I do not know how to express on paper our love for this beautiful child, our son. There isn’t anything in the world that can make us happier. Zachary is everything to us. We love him more than we thought possible. He is so beautiful. He is so wonderful.
The joy I felt when my son was placed in my arms on November 17th will stay with me for the rest of my life. Our experiences the day we picked up Zachary will be shared with him as the years pass on.
We are so lucky.
Zachary, we love you. Forever.

My son has turned eighteen. I can easily write the same words today that I did so long ago… I can also add that I could not love him anymore then if I have given birth to him. I could not feel more connected to him. Now that he is away at college besides being so very proud of the man he has become, I selfishly have to admit that I miss him so much that it hurts.

I knew that this baby was the son we were meant to raise. I knew that I would one day write a story eighteen years later. I knew from the moment I was handed this baby that I would never take this blessing for granted. Where ever my son goes in life, whatever choices he makes, I will always be honored to call myself Zachary’s mom.

Happy birthday Zack. We will love you forever.