when an adoptive mom becomes a stalker: some thoughts from inside a closed adoption

micah was born at 33 weeks and was placed with us when he was twelve days old, still in the nicu. he came home to us three days later. his mother, amber, and father, malcolm (not their real names), held him briefly after he was born, but they never visited with him again, nor did they call to find out how he was doing. i'm not sure when his mother left the hospital, probably the next day or the day after that. she and malcolm made an appointment to meet with the agency several days later in order to sign the initial consent (final relinquishment wouldn't happen for three more months) but they didn't show up, and the agency was not able to get in contact with them for several more days. when the agency did reach them, amber and malcolm assured them that they still wanted to place their baby for adoption, and they both signed the initial consent form when micah (then still "baby boy c" [also not his real initial]) was eight days old. the agency called us for the first time that afternoon to see if we would be interested in the placement. obviously we were, but for various reasons, the placement didn't take happen for four more days.

amber had been in touch with the agency several weeks earlier. actually, she had been working with another agency, but they did not think they could find a placement for an african-american baby, and referred her to our agency, which works almost entirely with african-american mothers. at that time, of course, she did not think she was having a baby for several more months. she said she had only discovered she was pregnant at five months, and had known as soon as she discovered the pregnancy that she wanted to place her baby for adoption. she filled out an extensive social and medical history, and answered a few questions about what mattered to her in an adoptive family. she was open to a same-sex couple and to people of a different race -- she just wanted people who were well-educated and open-minded. she did not want to meet us or to know anything about us; the only thing she wanted to know was that her son had in fact been placed with an adoptive family. she did not want us to know her last name; she did not want letters and pictures; and she did not want her son to be able to contact her when he turned 18.

we received the social and medical history, with only last names, addresses and phone numbers redacted, so we know a whole lot about micah's first family. we know his parents were in their early twenties and were parenting his two older sisters, who were six and four when he was born. we know his sisters' first names. we know his parent's birthdays, where they went to high school, what neighborhood they live in. and, because the hospital messed up, and because the agency missed a last name when they were redacting, we know both his parents' last names.

you see where this is going, don't you? we have so much information about them, it would probably take me about a day to find them. and if i couldn't, it would probably take a private investigator about half an hour. it's a constant temptation which i am firmly committed to resisting until micah decides he's ready to find them and is capable of handling the possibility of their rejection. i don't want to betray their trust or disrespect their wishes. i don't want to open wounds, and it's not my place to second-guess the way they've chosen to deal with their grief. i know micah's sisters didn't even know their mom was pregnant with him, or at least hadn't been told. i believe amber and malcolm were told they could open the adoption at any time, that at the least there would be letters and pictures at the agency if they ever wanted them (and we do send them, even though they've never requested them).

and yet... and yet. i'm haunted by the thought of them. i scan crowds when i'm out, wondering if i would recognize them if we crossed paths at the zoo, or a library or playground. i wonder about micah's older sisters, and how much they really understood. i wonder how much micah looks like them. are they also sharp as tacks? do they share his wicked sense of humor, his passion, his persistence? i wonder about amber, how she's doing, if she started community college the next fall like she planned. i wonder about their pain, both amber's and malcolm's, and how they are coping with what they've lost, this beautiful baby boy of theirs. i wish they could know him, know how well he's doing, what an amazing kid they have.

and also i mourn for micah, for what he has lost, and especially the part of it that needn't have been lost had the adoption been open. even if we do find them someday, when he is older, and even if they welcome the reunion ... i just wish for micah that there would never be a time when he didn't know them, his mama amber and his daddy malcolm.

and then there's this: what if right now they are out there, wishing they could know micah, wishing they could have a relationship with him, yearning to know that he's happy and well, and they are just too afraid, or in too much pain, to reach out? what if they can't imagine we would be open to that? or they just can't imagine it, period? that haunts me more than anything. i find myself thinking, well, you could find them and just send a really simple note, and leave it at that. put the ball in their court, but at least make sure they know we're game if they are.

and then i start to feel like a stalker, and think that i need to stop thinking so much.

right?