Dear Birth mothers, I was adopted. The woman who gave birth to me took newborn pictures of me, held me for three days, placed a bow in my hair and then handed me to a social worker. Within a few hours my adoptive parents straightened the bow and started taking their own set of pictures.…

Birth Mothers. Biological Mothers. First Mothers. Natural Mothers. Even though I’m not really comfortable with any of these terms, I want to talk to you. You women who carried these children first. Mostly, I just want to call those women who gave birth to my children by their first names. And I don’t really even…

“I’m glad my adoption wasn’t an open adoption,” Karlie said as she posed for a picture with her birth mother. Karlie is beautiful. She is a stable 25 year old with a career and more shoes than could be found in a small Portuguese village.  Shoe fetishes are apparently something that can be inherited, because…

Not many generations ago, adoption was secret and often considered shameful for both the birth mother and the adoptive child. In loving consideration for this “shame,” adoptive parents habitually attempted to hide the adoption from the community as well as the child. Secret keeping, of course, is always a recipe for disaster since human beings…

There are no laws to protect potential adoptive parents. There are laws to protect the rights of babies. There are laws to protect the rights of birth mothers. There are laws to protect the rights of birth fathers. There are even laws to protect the rights of birth grandparents. There are no laws to specifically…

“This is my son, his wife and their adopted kids,” my father-in-law smiled happily and waved his hand in our direction. Our three young children looked on silently as the man they knew as “grandpa,” discussed each of their origins. A few moments later, in a silent corner of the room where my children nor…

The light on my office phone was blinking. I could see the annoying notification through the window as I tried to herd high school students to their next class. “What now?” I muttered. I was in no hurry to answer. If passed experience was any kind of forecaster, there was either a parent on the…