My best friend just found out this past weekend that her son’s parents are finalizing his adoption today. Though she’s happy that her son is where he is, she’s understandably sad about the occasion too. She’s definitely experiencing the bittersweet part of being a birth mother. Since I found out about Mack’s finalization after the fact through my caseworker I didn’t have the opportunity to start processing the occasion until much later.
Last night, my best friend posted on her Facebook wall about her conflicting feelings and one of her friends made a comment that rubbed me the wrong way. In the midst of trying to be supportive she said, “It is devastating for the adoptive parents and the child pays the price by not having the family he was destined too because of a selfish act.” She made this comment in the context of talking about a couple of hopeful adoptive parents that she knows who have had placements not take place because the mother changed her mind. I’ve talked before about the general need for adoptions to be focused on the child and not the adoptive parents, and specifically about relinquishing for the happiness of the hopeful adoptive parents. But I want to talk today about the word “destiny” when it is used to describe an adoption.
I read an article last week where the author had surveyed a number of parents that became parents through adoption. Almost universally they said that they felt their child had been brought to them through destiny. My feelings are conflicted on this matter. I know that Mack’s parents feel that Mack is and was a miracle and that the match is a great one. I agree with them. I think that a lot of parents through adoption take those feelings that they have when they are finally matched and have the child they’ve desired for a long time and pile them all under the umbrella of the word “destiny.”
The problem with destiny is that it has the hazard of making the parents who relinquish their children into magical beings. I’m not saying that destiny is an evil word and that it should never be used. But I also know that no parent who relinquished is a magical being. We were simply making the best decision that we could at the time with the information we had. In some cases we were coerced into that decision. In others, we weren’t. I know I don’t live in a land of unicorns and rainbows with glitter falling instead of rain and other birth moms that I know would agree with me.
There’s a more evil side to that word too. When a mother who is considering adoption for her baby says that her baby is destined to be with the parents she’s picked, she’s making herself into a “vessel for destiny.” This is yet another coping mechanism for the decision she either feels she has to make, or if the relinquishment documents have already been signed, it’s a decision she felt she had to make and is trying to cope with the ramifications of her decision. Just like a mother who says to herself or to others as well, “I’m having their baby,” to cope with an adoption relinquishment decision, “It was destiny that my baby is with the parents I picked” is the same idea. It dehumanizes the women and allows the adoption “industry” to shove the immense sadness and grief those mothers feel under the rug of happiness for the people who become parents to those children.
I was not simply a uterus to put my daughter with her “real” parents. I put the word real in quotes in the previous sentence not because I don’t believe that Mack’s parents are her real parents, but because when mothers use that to refer to themselves or other people suggest that usage to them, they’re diminishing their own real parenthood. A set of legal documents did not make me any less my daughter’s real mother. It just added to her parentage and gave her two real mothers that love her deeply in different ways.
Again, I’m not saying that usage of the word destiny to describe adoption and its associated feelings is an evil thing. I’m just urging people to be aware when using that sort of language that there’s another side to it as well.