Brave New World

Rebecca Palton Falco

We lived in California and Emily’s birth family lived in Nebraska, but we were able to talk on the phone and send letters and pictures for the first year. When we moved to Atlanta, Georgia just before Emily’s first birthday, we stopped in Nebraska for a visit. Over the years, we made almost yearly trips to Nebraska and kept in touch through all the births, deaths, illnesses, marriages, divorces, and major life events. When Emily turned 16, we brought her birth family to our home for a joyous celebration. When Rachelle remarried, we were there…

As Emily matured, she began making trips to Nebraska on her own or with her brother, K.J., who was also born there and went to visit his birth family. Open adoption worked. But it wasn’t exactly the way I had envisioned it would be.

Fully open adoption was more complicated emotionally than I had anticipated. Openness meant leaving the wounds open too. It meant I would always be reminded of my infertility. Emily’s birth mother, Rachelle, had done what my body was incapable of doing. I would never be all the mother my daughter needed. She needed us both. Rachelle would be reminded over and over that she had “given up” parenting her child whenever she saw Emily with me. She would be reminded that she missed the first words, the first steps, and so much more. And Emily, as she matured and was able to comprehend the decisions that adults had made for her, would be confronted with the reality that she was not like most of the other children she knew who lived with biologically-related kin.

Moreover, while we lived without secrecy, the rest of the world hadn’t caught up. The blaming and shaming messages were everywhere. I would hear things like, “Bless you for saving that child,” when I knew that Rachelle and Emily had saved me. Rachelle would hear things like, “Oh, I could never give away my child!” – chastising her for making the decision she believed was best for Emily even as it broke her heart. And Emily would be asked questions like, “Who is your real mother?” in an atmosphere of pity that her life was somehow “less than” because of adoption.

At the most recent AAC conference, Rachelle and I were workshop presenters and shared a hotel room. Late into the night we talked about the history of our relationship and about Emily (who was unable to be at the conference with us). We realized that it was the first time we had been together without her, and this allowed us to go deeper into some of the hurts of this rollercoaster ride we called fully open adoption. Don’t get me wrong – these were good talks. We love each other in a way that is hard to explain because it is a unique relationship. Our bond came about because of Emily, but we have a relationship that is separate from Emily, just as Emily has relationships with each of her mothers that are distinct from one another.

The importance of nurturing each of these relationships in the triad - Emily-Rachelle, Emily-Rebecca, Rachelle-Rebecca – for a successful open adoption has become more apparent to me over the years. Let me give you an example…

Just a few weeks ago, Emily announced that she was going to move to Nebraska to work and to live with her half-sister Brittani (Rachelle’s daughter) as the next step in her journey toward independence. John and I agreed that this was a good plan. In the days before she left, however, Emily became very tearful. When I asked about her tears, she said, “I feel like I’m leaving you!” Although that statement might mean many things, I knew exactly what she was grieving and verbalized it. I said, “Are you worried that I will be hurt because you are choosing your birth family over your adoptive family?” She nodded. I was then able to affirm that I loved her birthmother and extended birth family, and I always had. She was not “choosing” one of us over the other. She could have us both. We were in this together. The tears ended and Emily left for her new adventure, knowing she could always return when the time was right for her.

For myself, I can contact Rachelle, Brittani, and others in Nebraska and say, “Take care of my baby,” and “I know you will” because I trust them. This has been fully open adoption for us. And in spite of the negative messages clamoring from the outside, I trust we will persist in this endeavor of loving one another and proclaiming to the world: “This is our normal, and it is right and good.”


Brave New World Rebecca Palton Falco We lived in California and Emily’s birth family lived in Nebraska, but we were able to talk on the phone and send letters and pictures for the first year. When we moved to Atlanta, Georgia just before Emily’s first birthday, we stopped in Nebraska for a visit. Over the years, we made almost yearly trips to Nebraska and kept in touch through all the births, deaths, illnesses, marriages, divorces, and major life events. When Emily turned 16, we brought her birth family to our home for a joyous celebration. When Rachelle remarried, we were there… As Emily matured, she began making trips to Nebraska on her own or with her brother, K.J., who was also born there and went to visit his birth family. Open adoption worked. But it wasn’t exactly the way I had envisioned it would be. Fully open adoption was more complicated emotionally than I had anticipated. Openness meant leaving the wounds open too. It meant I would always be reminded of my infertility. Emily’s birth mother, Rachelle, had done what my body was incapable of doing. I would never be all the mother my daughter needed. She needed us both. Rachelle would be reminded over and over that she had “given up” parenting her child whenever she saw Emily with me. She would be reminded that she missed the first words, the first steps, and so much more. And Emily, as she matured and was able to comprehend the decisions that adults had made for her, would be confronted with the reality that she was not like most of the other children she knew who lived with biologically-related kin. Moreover, while we lived without secrecy, the rest of the world hadn’t caught up. The blaming and shaming messages were everywhere. I would hear things like, “Bless you for saving that child,” when I knew that Rachelle and Emily had saved me. Rachelle would hear things like, “Oh, I could never give away my child!” – chastising her for making the decision she believed was best for Emily even as it broke her heart. And Emily would be asked questions like, “Who is your real mother?” in an atmosphere of pity that her life was somehow “less than” because of adoption. At the most recent AAC conference, Rachelle and I were workshop presenters and shared a hotel room. Late into the night we talked about the history of our relationship and about Emily (who was unable to be at the conference with us). We realized that it was the first time we had been together without her, and this allowed us to go deeper into some of the hurts of this rollercoaster ride we called fully open adoption. Don’t get me wrong – these were good talks. We love each other in a way that is hard to explain because it is a unique relationship. Our bond came about because of Emily, but we have a relationship that is separate from Emily, just as Emily has relationships with each of her mothers that are distinct from one another. The importance of nurturing each of these relationships in the triad - Emily-Rachelle, Emily-Rebecca, Rachelle-Rebecca – for a successful open adoption has become more apparent to me over the years. Let me give you an example… Just a few weeks ago, Emily announced that she was going to move to Nebraska to work and to live with her half-sister Brittani (Rachelle’s daughter) as the next step in her journey toward independence. John and I agreed that this was a good plan. In the days before she left, however, Emily became very tearful. When I asked about her tears, she said, “I feel like I’m leaving you!” Although that statement might mean many things, I knew exactly what she was grieving and verbalized it. I said, “Are you worried that I will be hurt because you are choosing your birth family over your adoptive family?” She nodded. I was then able to affirm that I loved her birthmother and extended birth family, and I always had. She was not “choosing” one of us over the other. She could have us both. We were in this together. The tears ended and Emily left for her new adventure, knowing she could always return when the time was right for her. For myself, I can contact Rachelle, Brittani, and others in Nebraska and say, “Take care of my baby,” and “I know you will” because I trust them. This has been fully open adoption for us. And in spite of the negative messages clamoring from the outside, I trust we will persist in this endeavor of loving one another and proclaiming to the world: “This is our normal, and it is right and good.”
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