History of Adoption in America

     Before delving into a brief history of adoption in America, it is important to understand this writer is biased. Having been adopted into a wonderful family and home, it is impossible for me to consider whether adoption is or was the best option for me or my birthmother. After all, I can't miss what I never knew.  And as painful as it may have been for my birthmother and her family, I grateful and content with the decision she made at the time. As a parent myself, I cannot fathom being forced to make the decision to give up my son. My birthmother was 22 years-old at the time of my birth and no doubt was uncertain about her future, either as a mother or a single person making her way in the world.
     Much of what you are about to read is based on research I've done using the internet and nothing further. I've done my best to use credible sources and cite the articles, writers, and websites I used to put this essay together. Please know this is not a scholarly essay or an attempt to reveal something new. Even though I am adopted I was unaware of some of the adoption agency prior to the mid 1970's and am compelled to share what I've learned.
     What follows is a brief history of adoption in America, specifically after World War II. This period of time, known at the Baby Boom period, saw American servicemen return home, marry their sweethearts, buy homes in the suburbs, and begin popping out children at record numbers. A lesser acknowledged contributor to the rising birthrate of the era was unmarried white women. Between 1945 and 1973, nearly 4 million babies were placed adoption. Almost 80% were born to unwed white women in maternity homes throughout the country.1 Sociologists point to a number of factors for this increase, including the liberalization of sexual attitudes and far-reaching restrictions on birth-control, such as The Pill and legalized abortion. Of those 4 million babies placed for adoption, 2 million were born in the 1960's alone. Also, the number of married couples desiring healthy white babies increased.
     What seems like a beautiful coincidence, however, raises some serious questions. We'd all like to believe medical professionals and social workers are guided by what's in the patients best interest. However, time and time again we are reminded how easily a conflict of interest can steer people the wrong way. It might sound cold or callus but when something is highly coveted, such as a baby, it can easily become a commodity. Like any commodity, there is a marketplace more than willing to capitalize on such transactions. And every marketplace needs participates; buyers, sellers, marketeers. For example, a letter posted on www.babyscoopera.com, a website dedicated to the research of adoption practices and law, between 1945 and 1972, shows how a Missouri maternity home marketing their product to potential customers. In part, it reads, “By adopting a child from this institution, you are assured of getting a healthy, normal child, which has had a thorough medical examination and has been found free from disease of every character. We also encourage you to have your family doctor make an examination, and if he finds anything irregular, return the baby to us.”2 Is it me, or does it sound like they're selling a used car?
     According to historian Marian J. Morton, many U.S. social workers, beginning in the 1940's, believed adoption was preferable over “keeping mother and child together” in less than ideal situations. “Ideal,” of course, being a subjective judgement. In her book, And Sin No More: Social Policy And Unwed Mothers In Cleveland 1855-1990, she writes social workers began “rejecting the idea that all women who had borne children were suitable mothers,” and they should use their judgement to “decide which women should or should not put their infants up for adoption.” 3 Essentially, the social worker, using their judgements, fueled with their own biases, were made the final arbitrator on whether a mother was supported by the system or seen as a potential blight on the system.  Obviously, no one would argue with the statement not all mothers, or fathers for that matter, are suited to be parents. However, the standards in which parental ability is measured today are not the same as they were a century ago—or even fifty years ago. Some social commentators today argue children are excessively cared for and coddled and are being raised with a hyper-sensitivity to their wellbeing. On some level, it could be said the paternalistic approach by some social workers or medical professionals were a reflection of the changing social mores on childrearing. Whether this is true or not is moot. The issue at hand is whether social workers were overly harsh or unfairly judgmental when dealing with unwed mothers who came into their clinics seeking options.
     Some “experts” on dealing with birthmothers and their families were even more direct. In the 1960 book, Out of Wedlock Pregnancy in Adolescence, Dr. Marcel Heiman writes, “The caseworker must then be decisive, firm, and unswerving in her pursuit of a healthy solution for the girl's problem.” Already, they are reducing her pregnancy to a “problem” that must be solved at all costs, regardless of the outcome to birthmother. Heiman continues, “The ‘I’m going to help you by standing by while you work it through’ approach will not do. What is expected from the worker is precisely what the child expected but did not get from her parents – a decisive ‘No!’ It is essential that the parent (to the birthmother) most involved, psychologically, in the daughter’s pregnancy also be dealt with in a manner identical with the one suggested in dealing with the girl. Time is of the essence; the maturation of the fetus proceeds at an inexorable pace. An ambivalent mother, interfering with her daughter’s ability to arrive at the decision to surrender her child, must be dealt with as though she (the girl’s mother) were a child herself.”4 In other words, disregard the psychological needs of the birthmother and her family and push them towards the adoption option as quickly as possible.
     Now, no one would argue a baby should be given the best possible start in life. If the birthmother is in a volatile situation which cannot be improved in short order, perhaps adoption is the best choice. This is not the argument. I know of several situations, close to my own family, where leaving the baby with the birthmother or father would be tantamount to criminal. However, the element which is often overlooked by the general public is the uncomfortable business of adoption. Or, the less seemly term, “baby farming.” When I was adopted in 1969, my parents paid roughly $1,000 to secure my guardianship. In 2015 money, this is roughly $6,300. A hefty sum for most middle-class couples at the time. As it is often said, if you want to know who benefits the most from something, follow the money. Most of the adoption agencies at the time profited from these transactions which enabled them to stay in business. Which begs the question, how many birthmothers were manipulated by medical or social work professionals with a conflict of interest? One, would be too many. And at the beginning of the Baby Scoop Period, medical and social engineers effectively lobbied for legislation which made adoptions secret. Secrecy on any level can lead to deceit, coercion and eventually heartache.
     In the early part of the Twentieth Century, open adoption, when one of the birth parents has contact with the adoptive parents, was the norm. Most states offered no provisions in their laws to protect privacy. In the 1930's, this began to change. By the end of the 1950's, virtually all states, on the advice of so-called experts, sealed their birth/adoption records. In Ohio, the state where I live, until March of 2015, adoption records from 1964 to 1996 were sealed and could not be opened without a court order. Records before and after were open for inspection. The concern was meddling by regretful birthparents could upset the stability of a child and his or her adoptive family. Soon, the era of secrecy took hold and the notion of adoptees reuniting with their birthparents became “socially disfavored.”5 Secrecy, of any sort, can lead to deceit and manipulation. For example, an 18-month-long investigation in Australia in 2012 revealed illegal and unethical tactics were incorporated to “dupe” some mothers into giving up their babies between the 1940's and 1980's. Some, were even drugged and forced to sign documents giving up their custodial rights.6 Is it possible these tactics also took place in the United States?
     I believe most adoptive parents had no notion or thought about how or where their new babies came from. No doubt they were marketed to and sold on the idea there were babies who desperately needed a home. I'm sure many imagined a birthmother who was young and had been careless and rejected the burden of parenthood without giving it a second thought. I'm sure this is how the commodity was sold. There have been reports of social workers at the time falsifying records and birth parent biographical information in order to paint a more agreeable picture supporting the need for adoption. Would adoptive parents still want to take home a baby if they believed the birthmother had been manipulated into giving him or her up? To me, it borderlines on kidnapping and most would probably not want to be involved in such scandalous trades.
     We cannot gloss over the psychological effects these women experienced, both in giving up a child for adoption and being an unwed pregnant woman in the first place. During this period between the 1940's to the 1960's, pregnant unwed women were viewed as a blight on society and wore a social stigma that accompanied this judgement. They were seen as having “broken the rules” and violated the sanctity of motherhood and sexuality by allowing themselves to become pregnant. Meanwhile, decent and deserving women, who were unable to bare children of their own, should be given “the gift” of a child, supplied by these “fallen” and “wayward” women.7 More often than not, they were forced to seek medical treatment in secret, out-of-town unwed mother's home, separated from respectable married women in hospital maternity wards. While at the homes, often referred to as “Magdalene Laundries,” many had their communication with outside world monitored and censored. Men were typically forbidden, in order to keep birthfathers from interfering with adoption plans. And they were reminded everyday their babies would be better off with someone else. In some facilities operated by religious groups, some soon to be birthmothers were required to attend daily devotionals and some were baptized to cleanse themselves of the “dirtiness” of unwed motherhood. They were pariahs and their self-esteem and outlook on life greatly diminished. In a November 1956 article published in the Toronto Daily Telegraph, Dr. Marion Hilliard of Women's College Hospital, wrote, “Unwed mothers should be punished and they should be punished by taking their children away...When she renounces her child for its own good, the unwed mother has learned a lot. She has learned to pay the price of her misdemeanor and this alone, if punishment is needed, is punishment enough.”8
     At the other end of the spectrum, the Honorable Justine Wise Polier, a judge in the New York City Domestic Relations Court, wrote in the 1956 book, Adoption and Law, “The mother of the child born out of wedlock is frequently young, frightened and very much alone when she is forced to make the momentous decisions about her future and that of her child. The provision of proper medical care, casework service, a plan for her child, full and honest disclosure as to her legal rights and the consequences of surrendering her child for adoption are essential if the substance rather than the mere form of her legal rights is to be secured. It is when this is not done, when she is not helped to work through to the right decision, that decisions made under duress may and often do lead to unresolved conflicts that may shadow her life. . .”9
     I would imagine a woman, already feeling guilty for becoming pregnant out of wedlock, is very likely to be in the most vulnerable psychological state she's ever been in her life. Maybe she has parental support, maybe she doesn't. She's faced with the most difficult decision of her life and it's appalling an unscrupulous social worker or doctor might be punishing her and pushing her to give up the child because “that's what's best for the baby.” What about what's best for the mother? We're their needs ever taken into consideration or were these birthmother's viewed as mere “incubators” for couples who couldn't have children? Post adoption counseling or medical treatment was nearly nonexistent during the highest period of adoptions in the United States. Birthmothers were left to deal with their grief on their own, which often led to reported symptoms similar to PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.)
      In a 1986 article published in the Medical Journal of Australia, Dr. John T. Condon writes, “Existing evidence suggests that the experience of relinquishment renders a woman at high risk of psychological (and possibly physical) disability. Moreover very recent research indicates that actual disability or vulnerability may not diminish even decades after the event. ….Taken overall, the evidence suggests that over half of these women are suffering from severe and disabling grief reactions which are not resolved over the passage of time and which manifest predominantly as depression and psychosomatic illness.”10 Dr. Condon wasn't the only expert to make this observations. In a 1999 article in the Journal of Obstetric, Gynecological and Neonatal Nursing, Askren & Bloom wrote, “Relinquishing mothers have more grief symptoms than women who have lost a child to death, including more denial; despair, atypical responses; and disturbances in sleep, appetite, and vigor.”11
     For some birthmothers they chose never to revisit motherhood again, undoubtedly broken in spirit by their earlier experience. In a 1971 article entitled Helping Unmarried Mothers, early single-mothers advocate Rose Bernstein wrote, “In sum, society sees to it that by action or by implication, a woman who is having a child out of wedlock will come away from the experience with an inferior sense of herself as a mother, whether she keeps her baby or relinquishes him for adoption. This downgrading of the maternal image, can do serious injury to the later maternal functioning of the woman whose perception of herself as a mother is thus impaired.”12
     Bernstein, who died in 2007, worked to improve the lives of single-mothers. In her obituary published in the Boston Globe, she was remembered as helping to “shift the stigma of the 'out of wedlock' mother to the concept of helping unmarred mothers and fathers,” and for pointing “a finger at social agencies for inflicting lasting emotional damage on single mothers.”13
      In the 1965 landmark decision Griswold v. Connecticut, the Supreme Court ruled the Constitution protected the right to privacy and the “Comstock Law,” which, among other “obscene” material, prohibited the sale of birth-control medications or devices. Until then many states enforced the law which made the sale of contraceptives illegal. This reversal, along with the introduction of birth control drug The Pill, and the Supreme Court ruling in Roe V. Wade, which allowed unrestricted abortion, the number of adoptions in the United States dropped dramatically. According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, the peak year for adoptions was in 1970—the year my adoptive parents brought me home—when 89,200 children were placed in adoptive homes. In 1975 the number dropped to 47,700 and finally to around 14,000 in 2003.
     I can't honestly know or say what my birthmother experienced while she was dealing with the social worker assigned to her case or the doctors in the unwed mother's home she gave birth. I have a letter she wrote and while I can read the pain in her words about letting me go, I have no way of knowing if she was treated with dignity by them or with scorn. I only hope she was wasn't coerced or manipulated into making a decision she really didn't want to make and the decision was completely hers. However, as I said at the outset, I'm thankful for the life I've had and wouldn't change or wish for anything else. My only purpose in writing this essay is to shine a light on a difficult time in our societies history and maybe give a voice to the many birthmothers, like my mine, who may have suffered in silence.

A week after posting this essay this story from ABC News began making the rounds.


(Please forgive the formatting of my sources. Blogger doesn't allow for easy citation.)

1Solinger, R. (2000).Wake Up Little Susie: Single Pregnancy and Race Before Roe v. Wade. (p. 95)

2http://babyscoopera.com/adoption-abuse-of-mothers/professionals-marketing-our-children/#sthash.z5Us5a80.dpuf

3AND SIN NO MORE: SOCIAL POLICY AND UNWED MOTHERS IN CLEVELAND 1855 TO 1990, Marian J. Morton, Historian, 1993

4Out-Of-Wedlock Pregnancy In Adolescence, p. 71, 1960, Marcel Heiman, MD.

5The Idea of Adoption: An Inquiry Into the History of Adult Adoptee Acces to Birth Records, Rutgers Univeristy, 2001

6Past Adoption Experiences, National Research Study on the Service Response to Past Adoption Practices, Austrailian Institute of Family Studies, 2012.

7The Crimes Against Unmarried Mothers, Valerie Williams, Origins Canada, 2011

8Toronto Daily Telegraph, Toronto, Canada, November 1956

9Adoption and Law, by Hon. Justine Wise Polier, Judge, Domestic Relations Court, New York City. 1956

10PSYCHOLOGICAL DISABILITY IN WOMEN WHO RELINQUISH A BABY FOR ADOPTION, Dr. John T. Condon (Medical Journal of

Australia) Vol. 144 Feb 3, 1986 (Department of Psychiatry, Flinders Medical Centre, Bedford Park, SA 5042, Consultant Psychiatrist)

11Askren, H., & Bloom, K. (1999) Post-adoptive reactions of the relinquishing mother: A review. Journal of Obstetric, Gynecological and

Neonatal Nursing, 1999 Jul-Aug; 28(4)

12HELPING UNMARRIED MOTHERS, Rose Bernstein, Appeared in “Child Welfare and Social Work,” 1971

13http://www.boston.com/news/globe/obituaries/articles/2007/02/28/rose_bernstein_at_98_advocate_for_single_parents/?page=full

Old Friends, New Friends

     Years ago when my mom and dad realized they were not able to have children of their own some dear friends suggested an adoption agency they used to adopt their children. Tonight for the first time in many years my mom and one of these dear friends, Harriette Sidenstick, were reunited during an amazing dinner complements of her daughter Tami Sidenstick Bower and her awesome husband Charlie. None of this would've come about if Tami hadn't reached out after reading my blog. We had never met and when our mothers reunited we became new friends. What an amazing day! Feeling tons of love and gratitude and a full belly. 

My Letter to Rosie

Dear Rosie,

     I know you will never read this but I feel compelled to write anyway. Since receiving your letter from the adoption agency last month, I've been struggling to come to terms with the emotional distress you endured following my birth. In your own words I can feel the pain in your spirit. I tremble at your sense of loss and sense of resignation. It is staggering. Your choices were few; keep me, and struggle mightily for survival as an unwed mother, or give me up in exchange for severe anguish and a lifetime of regret. As a parent myself, the notion of relinquishing my rights to my own flesh and blood does not compute in my head. From your letter, I can tell it didn't for you, either. It appears circumstance forced your hand and I need you to know I acknowledge your suffering during that time. Though undoubtedly difficult, I hope in the months and years that followed you were able to eventually come to terms with the ordeal.
     I know I can never completely vanquish your sense of loss or any guilt you may have bestowed on yourself, but please know I have never felt wronged in any manner whatsoever. And though I firmly believe it is not necessary, you need to know I forgive you completely and totally. In fact, I will forever be grateful for what I see as a selfless act of courage. Some how you summoned the strength and clarity to properly make the most difficult decision of your life. The most important decision of my life. Perhaps a weaker person would have kept me out of fear in an effort to fend off sorrow or satisfy some inner loneliness. That is a heavy burden to place on an infant or any child and you saw past this temptation. Thank you. 
     I don't know why your parents wouldn't support you in your time of need but if they had both of our lives would be very different. Maybe things would've been wonderful, but I've seen the challenges single moms face and I know the struggles were even greater back then. Maybe we would've managed but it's a gamble I'm glad you didn't make with my life. I can't imagine anything better than the life I've had. In the end though you did what needed to be done and I have no regrets over your decision. Only praise. 
     All my life I wondered if someone somewhere in the world was wondering about me. I wondered if they cared or thought about what I was doing, especially on my birthday or Christmas or any day, really. If meeting your family and feeling their love and concern weren't convincing enough, the words in your letter leave no doubt. While I may have been absent from your eyes I was never absent from your heart. I, too, thought of you often, but only in abstract. You were a mystery to me. My hope now, though, is for you to rest in peace knowing your son has found you. And as I get to know you better through the memories of your family, I will continue, as I always have, to cherish your sacrifice and the life you gave me. And hopefully one day, in whatever existence that follows this life, I will be able to thank you in spirit.

Love, 

Todd (Joseph Paul)

A Voice that Sweetens the Air

     I am grateful for the love and prayers I've received throughout this journey of self-discovery. So many people have been kind and given me words of encouragement as I uncover my adoption story. Family and friends alike have touched my life in so many ways and I will cherish these gifts for the rest of my life. They are precious and sacred.
     One of these wonderful gifts is posted below. After reconnecting with my late birth mother's brother, Uncle Jerry, he put me in touch with her step-sons via Facebook. Rosie married their father John in November 1974 and they both looked to her as their "mom." Her oldest, Joe, tells me she was a great mother and grandmother to his children. Of this, I have little doubt. From this amazing video he put together for me, I can tell she was a sweet spirit full of love. I wish I could have met her. 
     Even though I knew this video was coming I wasn't prepared for its emotional impact. I'm sure buried somewhere deep in my psyche is an sound imprint of her but until today I had never heard Rosie speak. It truly is a voice that sweetens the air. I received the link this morning and I'm completely overwhelmed. I've been given permission to share this and I hope you enjoy this very personal family video. Thank you, Joe.

I Call Her My Mom

     Much of what I've been writing about my adoption story has focused on my finding my birth mom and her family. I would be remiss to not write about the wonderful family I was adopted by, however. Especially, my mom. To understand how I arrived in her arms, let me start at the beginning.
   

My mom and dad's wedding day, September 2, 1961

 On September 2, 1961 my dad (Larry Hollst) married my mom (Jeannine Fryman) and from my perspective they were from two very different worlds. My dad was a city boy raised in Dayton by two hard working factory workers who enjoyed the finer things in life; gambling, drinking, bowling, playing cards and speaking their minds, often to the detriment of others. He was a standout baseball player who turned down a try-out with the Cincinnati Reds in favor of attending Northwestern University (he only stayed one year). My mom was raised on a farm near Brookville, Ohio and went to church every Sunday with her family. She rode horses, sang in the choir, was a member of her mother's 4-H club, and studied ballet under Miss Josephine Schwarz at the Dayton Ballet.

Mom working the phones

     They met sometime around 1960 after my mom began working in the ordering department and on the switchboard at the Monarch Marking Company in Dayton, Ohio. Three of my grandparents worked for the company. My Grandpa Dorwyn Fryman was a chemist who worked on improving the quality of ink and dyes. My Grandpa Edward and Grandma Theresa Hollst both worked in the manufacturing wing of the building. My grandpa even lost two of his fingers on a punch press in their factory. My dad also worked there in the shipping department after returning from college and that's where he was when he says he saw my mom the first time. On her first day of work there she went on a tour of the facilities and that's where they met. After a brief encounter, which included my dad dropping a load of boxes after first spotting her, he told me it was right then and there when he decided he was going to marry her. After a few years of courting they married and began their life together in Dayton.
     Both were eager to be parents and after dad secured a financially lucrative sales position in the emerging computer industry, they decided the time was right to begin their family. However, in the spring of 1967 mom suffered a tubal pregnancy and nearly died. The doctor told them it was unlikely they would be able to have children of their own but to try one more time. After six agonizing months without a positive result however, they came to conclusion the only way they would be able to have a family was through adoption.
     In January of 1969 they finally contacted the Red Feather Adoption Agency in Dayton. Friends of theirs had adopted two children through the same agency and it came highly recommended. Throughout the rest of the year they took a variety of parenting classes, sat for interviews with social workers, and opened their home up for home visits. Finally in December they were told about me and were assigned a social worker named Mrs. McCullough. She would guide them through the final process of adopting me. Before they brought me home, mom and dad got to go through some of those fun traditions many expecting parents experience. They debated and picked out my name, put the final touches on my nursery, and my mom's co-workers threw her an office baby shower. All they needed now was me.

The day I came home to my new family

     On January 22, 1970 the temperature in Dayton never reached above 20 degrees. My mom and dad arrived at the agency to meet me for the first time. They had not even seen a picture of me before this day. My mom says, though it was never a consideration, she and my dad had the option of refusing to take me home if for some reason they didn't think I would be a good fit for their family. Though, I suppose if you're going to spend several thousand dollars on an adoption they should at least be afforded the chance to inspect the merchandise. Kick the tires, so to speak.
     My mom says during our first meeting it became obvious I needed a diaper change and that's when they noticed I had a bad case of diaper rash. According to her, the nurse who was in the room with them was none to happy and was going to take the foster mother to task. My mom's first attempt at changing me was a miserable and messy failure. She says now she had little experience taking care of a baby, as she was the youngest in her family and never had the opportunity to babysit like other teenage girls. My Aunt Yvonne and Grandma Mary Fryman were there too and Yvonne stepped in to save the day. As I would get older, her daughter Cindy, my only female cousin, would do the majority of my babysitting. Yvonne also stepped in as photographer and filmed my parents leaving the agency with me in their arms on my dad's Super 8 camera. I still have it my box of archives. 
     From the moment the nurse brought me in to meet my mom and dad I was surrounded by love. I argue their love for me probably began the moment they were told by the agency a baby boy had been found. Just like I fell in love with my son the moment I saw him on the sonogram. My mom says they would've been happy with either a boy or girl, but specifically asked for a boy because she knew my dad really wanted a son. As the father of a son myself, I certainly can understand this desire. He needed someone to play catch, teach the game of baseball, and build model train sets with. Of course he could have done the same things with a girl but this was 1969 and my mom and dad, while very accepting and openminded, were raised with very a traditional outlook of gender roles.

Me and my mom on my 1st. birthday

      Both my mom and dad were and are wonderful parents. I will admit though, I had a very different kind of relationship with both of them. My mom was the nurturer and to this day puts her self-second when it comes to her children and grandchildren. I've never known nor will I ever meet someone who is as selfless, more supportive, kinder, warmer or as loving as my mom. If my birthmother Rosie would've had the chance to pick the very best person to be my mom, she would not have been able to find anyone better. From an early age I was right in step with my mom; literally and figuratively. If she would ever find herself in tears and I was there, I too would begin bawling and we'd console each other. We remember family outings where my dad and sister Tracy would walk ten feet in front of us together while we trailed behind, together. I was and am a mama's boy and I'm okay with that label.
     Hopefully every child, regardless of whether they're adopted or not, has a mother who will advocate and stand up for them without fail. My mom recalls the day when I found out I was adopted. She had confided in a neighbor about my being adopted but then the woman spilled the beans to her own son. One day when we were playing at his house he gleefully announced I was adopted. When I told my mom she marched down to their house to confront the blabbermouth and her son. She wanted to know exactly what was said, fearing the bratty kid may have tried to make me feel bad about being adopted. To my recollection, I don't remember feeling bad or what was even said. And I've never felt ashamed being adopted. My mom says she and my dad always planned on telling me the truth but not at the age of four. When this happened they were planning on adopting my sister and were going to explain it all to me then.

My first Christmas with my mom and dad

     I suppose in hindsight it could be suggested she was overprotective at times. But can you really blame a woman who almost died in childbirth and was lucky enough to adopt a child for being overprotective? I suppose you could, but I don't want to be standing nearby when you do. Not everyone during that time--or any time for that matter--had the means to adopt, especially a white baby boy. If I were in her shoes I'd probably bend over backwards to make sure the child was cared for and protected at all costs. She's told me the first year or so they had me she feared if a social worker came by to do a check up and found anything questionable she would lose me. I can't imagine living with such anxiety. I recall a few neighborhood bullies who felt the my mom's wrath. For a few, our street was off-limits. Though, my mom and dad never interfered with my teachers or coaches. They understood the value of allowing me to fight some of my own battles and living with the consequences of my own failures and lack of responsibility. I had my moments. 
     There are many things that remind me of my mom. She loves humming birds and keeps feeders on her front window. She used to make fancy decorated cakes for extra money and people raved over her talent. Her laugh is probably the most amazing sound I've ever heard. If I can make her laugh to the point of crying I know I've done my job. She makes the most delicious pecan tarts, magic cookie bars, and waffles anyone could ever want or need. And the turkey tetrazzini she makes with leftovers is my favorite part of Thanksgiving. And at forty-five years of age, she still gets me a card on my birthday, Christmas, Father's Day and Valentine's Day. I think I've even received a few Easter cards throughout the years.
     When I was a young adult and got warped and wrapped up in a certain "religion" she didn't necessarily agree with, she still came to my baptism and came to hear me talk in church. She may have not agreed but I was still her son and she knew love would eventually bring me back from the darkness. The day she came to me, pleading with me and in tears, wondering "what happened to her son," was the day I realized the gullible fool I had been. She's saved me more than once in my life. 
     My mom embodies the notion that a mother's duty is never done. After my first wife and I divorced and I ended up with primary custody, she, along with my dad, stepped up and helped raise my son. There's no way I could have managed without her help; both financially at times and in every other way possible. When I had to work late she'd pick Alex up and feed him dinner and keep him until I could get home. When I lost my job she opened her home up to us with no questions asked. We would have been on the streets without her. And, like she did me, she kept an eye on Alex when he was at school. When I began junior high she got a job in school lunchroom as a lunch lady and I got to see her everyday. Alex got to experience the same thing throughout high school. She finally retired last year after nearly 30 years of serving food to thousands of Beavercreek students. She has developed a very close and loving relationship with Alex and seems to be one person he can open up to. She's also a very big fan and supporter of my wife Mary. She's told me a number of times how happy she is I found her and believes she is one of the best things that's ever happened to me. I look forward to making her a grandma to a few more children in the not to distant future. 

My mom meeting my Uncle Jerry and Aunt Kathy

     And, if I can be so bold to speak for both of my birth families, they too are lucky to have had my mom touch their lives. I've mentioned this before but the story is worth repeating. Around Christmas 2014, Alex and my mom were talking one day and he mentioned something to her about a conversation we had about me being adopted. He conveyed to her how many times I've told him how much I value him, not only as being my son but as my only genetic relative. This is an emotion many adopted adults who have children can relate to. A few months later after reading Ohio was going to unseal adoption records, she unequivocally told me to investigate and uncover my story. She says she believed it would bring me more joy and happiness than I could possibly imagine. 
     The day she met my birth uncle and his wonderful wife, my soul was filled with the pure joy and happiness my mom had promised. To hear them both thank her for raising me so well and then her saying it was "her pleasure," and that she wished Rosemary were still living so she could thank her for giving her a son, was, is and will forever be overwhelming. If it weren't for her encouragement none of this would be happening right now. The mystery might never have been solved and the gratitude and love felt by so many right now would be nonexistent.

     I'll be tackling the topic of my late father, next.