A Good Adoption...A Good Reunion By Jeff DeLong
A Good Adoption...A Good Reunion By Jeff DeLong
September 25, 1996, just has to be the most bittersweet day of my life. Five days spent with my birthmother, Jackie, and other birthfamily in Louisville flew by in no time. Now I had an early morning flight out to Chicago to visit my adoptive parents. Jackie and I didn't speak much that morning, afraid we might set the other one off blubbering. At the airport, Jackie linked her arm through mine as we rode the moving sidewalk. I was going to miss her and the feeling was more than mutual.
When I had first arrived in Louisville, Jackie and her sons, Chris and Drew, were at the airport to greet me with open arms.....and a camera crew. Not a large crew mind you, just her neighbor Barb who was crying with her camcorder. For the first time in 30 years Jackie had all three of her sons with her. We hugged each other and shed some tears. I had not seen her for six months; this was the first time I laid eyes on Chris. We talked and picked up my bags. Barb video taped every step.
At Jackie's house, Chris's girlfriend was waiting for us with a bottle of Moet Champagne. I had brought gifts for everyone. Jackie believes in guardian angels and I had picked up a carved porcelain angel nightlight from the Museum Store for her birthday. The card I gave her was in the shape of a Egyptian mummy. I had written inside the card Happy Birthday to my first "mummy". Corny as hell, I know, but, hey, it was appropriate.
We opened the champagne and I toasted my "new"family and thanked them for welcoming me into their home, their hearts and their lives. It was little overwhelming to be surrounded by pictures of people and events I had not been present for in the home my brothers grew up in. I'm sure Jackie felt the same way when she had come to my family's home in April. Chris raised a glass and said, "Here's to my brother, Jeff, and the home he has never known. And here's to him knowing it better."We all teared up again and drank the toast. Then we talked for hours about everything and nothing. The next day I met my grandmother "Nonie" and my cousin, Stephanie. Nonie cried for a good half hour and almost choked me to death when she first saw me.
Later, Jackie and I were alone for the first time. It was odd just being with each other. We were comfortable with silences, content to just be with each other. We talked about my folks for long time. She had written them a wonderful letter a month before telling them how grateful she was that they were understanding about our budding relationship. My mom had written back, and Jackie was thrilled with how open and honest my adoptive family was being.
On Sunday, I helped Jackie get the house ready for the hundred or so guests due to arrive at noon. I found myself just staring at the hundreds of photos Jackie had hanging on the walls in frames on tables. I pictured my brothers growing up there and Jackie as a mother. It may have been unfair of me, but I began to piece together stories from Chris, Drew and Jackie and compared their upbringing to mine. If the truth be known, I gained a new appreciation for my adoptive family. Jackie is a wonderful woman but very different from my family. Not better or worse just different. My parents have a wonderful relationship. Her marriage was not as successful and it affected the boys. Her divorce, brush with cancer and the boys' various problems made for a difficult time. It reinforced my thoughts that these people are now my family, and I hope to have a wonderful relationship with each and everyone of them, but...I will never have the shared experiences or depth of closeness that I have with my adoptive family. Jackie had thought-fully placed photos of my adoptive family around the house so the guests could see the family I had in Chicago. This was a singularly considerate act on her part, and I loved her all the more for it.
The guests began to arrive early. Jackie and I had few moments together alone to hug each other and calm each other down. She made an interesting observation that this was my second Christening. I thought about this for a moment and it made me think how lucky I was to have a "second birth". There was food beyond belief, Kentucky hams, honeybaked turkey, casseroles and cakes. The dining room table groaned under the weight. People poured in the door and I spent the next four hours telling our story, being hugged, kissed, shaken hands with, flashbulbs popping in my eyes and generally having a wonderful time. People brought gifts of wine and framed photographs of the various branches of the family. But the most touching one was the gift given to me by Nonie and my Aunt Jeff. They pulled me aside into a quiet bedroom. Nonie sat on the edge of the bed and Aunt Jeff held out her hands. "I'm not one for speeches, Jeff, and I talked to mother and we want you to have this." Aunt Jeff held out her hands and sitting there in the middle was a wedding band of white gold. "It was your Grandpa Jack's, "Nonie said, "He would have been proud to know you, honey, so we want you to have it."I was speechless, my eyes filled with tears as my aunt and my grandmother hugged me. I was overwhelmed as I slipped the ring on the middle finger of my right hand. "I can't accept this. What about Chris and Drew? they knew Grandpa Jack."Nonie smiled through her tears and held my hand. I looked down on this small woman and she said, "You were as much a grandchild as they are and you are now the eldest... please accept it. We love you." I paused for a moment and told her I would provided it was okay with Chris and Drew. I didn't want it to create a rift between me and my new-found brothers. By 8:00 I was exhausted and Jackie and I stretched out on the couch with the few remaining guests and just talked, and I relayed for the millionth time how I found Jackie.
One evening of my visit, Jackie and I went to the country to visit my brother, Chris, and his girlfriend, Teal, who owns three horses and a 200-year-old cabin on 24 acres of land. My cousin, Stephanie, and her husband, Blaise, joined us and we spent a good chunk of time out in the barn. Chris is a farrier and he was giving me a crash course in blacksmithing and the finer points of shoding a horse. I cannot tell you how much this meant to me. To spend time with my younger brother as he showed me his trade. Back at the cabin, we polished off two bottles of very fine Cabernet. We charted the family trees, discussed politics, religion, sex, adoption history. I was in heaven!
One of the most startling revelations of the evening was that Jackie had named me on my original birth certificate. I had bypassed that during my search. She had named me Richard Michael Friedman, after the attorney who handled my adoption. Considering how many people seem to resent and hate the agencies that placed their children this seems to be a singularly unique honor. It's also amusing that Jackie named me Richard; both my adoptive and birth fathers' names are Richard.
Another day, Jackie and I spent the day seeing the sights in Louisville and got slightly lost looking for the locks on the Ohio. Jackie wanted to show me the type of boat she works on and she thought one of the tow boats from her company would be going through. We also had a lengthy discussion about my birthfather, Rick. Four months earlier, she had spoken with him and gave him my address and phone number and she now asked if I had heard from him. I told her no. I was okay with this because my reunion with her had gone so well, and my parents' acceptance was so complete. I didn't want to push my luck with Rick. He'll come around when he's ready. His own adoption is still a secret from his wife and daughters as is my existence.
Yes, these had been a good few days, but I was ready to go home and see my adoptive family. This may seem odd but I needed a break from the constant upwelling of emotion. My family is a place of refuge and safety. I needed to mellow out for a few days and Mom and Dad's seemed to be the ideal place.
As I was ready to board the plane, Jackie crushed me with one more embrace and we said good-bye. I looked down at her, amazed at everything that had transpired over the past few days. I also thought about the 30 years that had separated us. We both had this weekend to share in our memories. Our reunion had begun back in December when I first located Jackie. It became real when I saw her at Easter and now, after meeting my birthfamily, I felt a certain sense of relief. The big stuff was over, my next visit would be much more relaxed and fun. Intellectually, we both knew this; emotionally our hearts were breaking. I kissed her once more and silently vowed to come back as soon as possible. I walked quickly down the passageway, found my seat and slept all the way to Chicago.
Dad met me at the gate and hugged me a little more tightly than usual. This may have been my imagination but he seemed relieved to see me. We left the airport and had lunch. I'm not sure about other reunited adoptees, but I seemed to be walking a tightrope between families. Loyalties and love have been given unconditionally on both sides. I have reciprocated in kind, but part of me is always cautious about offending one when discussing the other. This caution has served me well so far. I truly do feel at home with my parents, and my father and I are very much alike in so many ways. I can only attribute this to what I call "contact genetics."
That night I had dinner with my parents, and they listened intently to the story of my visit. My love for them grew tenfold as they asked questions about my other family. I kept comparing stories of my adoptive family to stories of my birth family. The shared memories of my family make me who I am. I cannot deny this part of me any more than I can deny the traits of Jackie and the family in Kentucky.
Adoption doesn't change the essential person...experience does. That experience can be good or bad in adoptive families or birth families. Mine has been overwhelmingly positive. Inow know how lucky I really am. I have had the rare opportunity see both sides. I refuse to choose one over the other.
I choose both. It isn't going to be easy, nothing worthwhile ever is.
Like my adoption experience, my search and reunion experience has been good. I found Jackie in a few months and on December 14th at 2 PM mountain time, my phone rang in my office at work and I heard: "Hi, Jeff, this is Jackie Fairfax, I'm your birthmother."I was numb and babbling at first, of course, but finally composed myself to speak to the woman who had given birth to me nearly 30 years before. Co-workers were peeking in and looking at me as I made my discovery; the news spread like wildfire through the office. Jackie spoke for about half an hour, and we promised to speak that evening.
We met for the first time on Good Friday at the Art Institute of Chicago. I got to the room where we planned to meet half an hour late! I peeked in. For one horrifying moment, I didn't see anyone. My heart was beating a mile a minute...I'm practically hyperventilating... when Jackie comes around from one of the pillars and sees me. Time stopped at that very moment and she came towards me with the impetus of 30 years of waiting. We held each other for what seemed like an eternity. She was crying, I was crying. Here we are in this gymnasium-sized room all by ourselves just babbling and wiping away tears. I am looking down at this woman and I'm looking for similarities almost immediately. I realized that there is very little physical resemblance between the two of us, but a wealth of emotional and social similarities. A guard came in the room and was smiling from ear to ear. While Jackie was waiting for me to show up, she had told this female museum guard the whole tale. Her name was Bernadin, I will never forget her name if I live to be a 1,000. She took the first photograph of Jackie and Me.
Then, that same weekend I had to gear up for Jackie to meet my parents. She came by about 6:30 for dinner. I was bouncing off the walls while my parents were cool as cucumbers. Jackie was about 25 minutes late (our lack of punctuality is definitely genetic.) she walked in to the foyer my parents welcomed her in literally with open arms. My mothers (what a strange way of putting it) embraced and cried a little, Dad teared up and yours truly lost it again. After all the sniffles subsided we went out to a local Italian place. The three of them just talked like they were old friends. I was impressed with all three of my parents strength and love. They were all facing something very big and very unusual but they all acknowledged that my adoption had really worked out for the best. Jackie especially was very vocal on how she now knew she had done the right thing and was looking forward to all of us being friends. The evening went great and we went back to my folks place for dessert and coffee. Jackie asked to see pictures of me growing up. What she did not realize was that my mother has compiled over 120 photo albums in chronological order, including cross-indexed negatives. Needless to say we were up to till 2 AM looking at photos and sharing memories. I thought this might be tough on Jackie but she was the one that kept asking to see more.
On Easter Sunday, Jackie met the rest of the family I had known for 30 years and then the next day, Jackie called and asked if I wanted to try and meet Drew, my half brother. Drew is ten years younger than me and is attending Columbia, the same college I graduated from in Chicago. We were unable to get a hold of him by phone, so Jackie and I met an hour later and strolled over to Drew's dorm. As luck would have it one of his roommates was in the lobby as we signed in. He brought us up to their suite. Drew had no idea I was coming! Jackie walked in while I waited out in the hall. Then, he turned and Jackie told him who I was.His eyes went to the size of tea saucers! we shook hands and just stared. Drew and I share a slight resemblance, probably closer than Chris and I or even Drew and Chris. After the initial shock wore off, I took Jackie and Drew to lunch and then for coffee. Later we went for coffee at Drew's local hangout (it used to be mine six years ago) the girl behind the counter was a friend of his. He introduced his mom then he did something that floored both Jackie and me. He added: "Oh yeah, and this is my brother, Jeff."
I become angry when people say that adoption is bad. I know there have been terrible people and terrible adoptions and terrible reunions. But mine is great! Why should we deny the good opportunities for adoption to pass unheeded? Wouldn't these stories make some adoptions better? Wouldn't some birthmothers take comfort? Wouldn't more adoptive parents be a little more sensitive and understanding to their child's need to know? Wouldn't some government agencies see that keeping records sealed is wrong? Making adoption the option of last resort isn't the answer. It needs to be modified, true...but not eliminated. All Triad experiences could be the guide on how to improve adoptions. The "bad"agencies need to be closed down or improved, birth parents need support, adoptive parents need more training and better screening, and adoptees need to know that they have rights, as children and adults, to know their past. I think my parents, adoptive and birth, serve as an example of how things should and can be done. I have no idea how these relationships are going to turn out. I do know I've got a lot more people to love and lot more who love me.
Editor's Note: Jeff DeLong lives in Denver and has been involved in the Big Brother Program for three years. Currently single, he hopes to adopt when he marries and "continue the family tradition" (his birthfather, Rick, also is an adopted person).
Last updated March 12, 1997