Ellen's Story: A Tale of Adoption

New Jersey governor Chris Christie signed into law Tuesday a bill to allow adopted children to obtain their birth certificates without first securing a court order (http://www.northjersey.com/news/christie-signs-bill-opening-adoption-records-1.1023805). The ability to find out information about a natural parent brought to mind the story of Ellen, one of our dearest friends from our time in Connecticut back in the 1970s.

While in college in the 1960s, Ellen had a child out of wedlock. Neither she nor the father wanted to wed, so the baby girl was placed for adoption with Catholic Charities. Several years later, after Ellen had married and had told her husband and their two sons about the daughter she had given up, she advised the charity she would be open to meeting her daughter should the girl ever seek her out.

Twenty-four years after her birth, the girl approached Catholic Charities, which reconfirmed Ellen's willingness to be contacted. When they met, Ellen was amazed at how much she resembled her natural father. In addition, the girl was an accountant; her father had been an accounting major in college. Turned out, she had been placed with a lovely family that lived near Ellen’s home. During their initial meeting, Ellen told her she was her birth mother but that the woman who raised her was her real mom.

Her daughter asked where her father was. Ellen said they had not been in contact since her birth but that she knew where his family lived. She found his family in a phone book of his home town. When Ellen called, a woman answered. Ellen asked for him, but was told he didn't live there anymore. The woman said she was his sister. 

Ellen identified herself as a college friend. The woman recognized Ellen's name. Her brother had told the family all about her and their child. She then told Ellen that he had served in Vietnam, had suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, had overcome it, and was now a counselor for veterans similarly afflicted. In fact, she related, he was about to go to Russia from his home in California to counsel soldiers affected by PTSD from their tours in Afghanistan. He was to make a stopover at JFK Airport in New York in a few days.

They had a satisfying reunion at the airport.  

Her private past now almost completely public, Ellen had one more revelation to make. She had never told her mother, a religious Catholic, about the daughter born 24 years earlier. She needn’t have worried. Her mother lovingly accepted her into their family.

Off She Goes

The story has moved off the front page, a casualty of the all-consuming news cycle. But the heartbreaking account of an adopted, difficult child shipped back to Russia brought to mind a more comical incident involving one of my friends and his travails in trying to harness the independent spirit of his elder daughter.

After numerous notes home from her teacher reporting bad behavior, the daughter (let’s call her Carol, and her father, Bob, to protect the not so innocent) had achieved the near impossible. She had managed to vex Bob to the point of absurd frustration. He warned her the next note home would bring swift, irreversible judgment—banishment from home. She’d be carted off to the orphanage.

All went well for a few weeks, but seven-year-old girls have a hard time towing the line for too long, so the inevitable letter came home one wintry day. Bob went ballistic. He ordered Carol to put on her winter coat as he was taking her to the orphanage. She refused. She didn’t cry. She just refused to cooperate. Her younger sister did the crying, imploring her father not to take her sister away. No amount of entreaties from Bob’s wife could dampen his anger and resolve.

A war of wills had been joined, with Bob trying to stuff Carol into her coat and Carol resisting. Being bigger, Bob prevailed. He carried Carol to the car as her sister and mother tried to get Bob to be reasonable.

As they were driving away, it dawned on Bob that he had driven himself into a proverbial corner. What was he to do now? A few blocks away, he drove into a church parking lot. Carrying the threat further, Bob got out of the car and came around to Carol’s side. She locked the door. She locked all the doors. His keys still dangling from the ignition switch, Bob demanded she open the door. She shook her head, no. He screamed at her to open the door. No. He told her he was just kidding, that he wasn’t really going to give her way. She stood her ground. He pleaded with her to let him in, that he’d take her home. She won.

I’d like to be able to report that Carol, or Bob, learned their lesson that day. Truth is, they have pushed each other’s buttons for the next three decades. But they have a wonderful, loving relationship. And a great story to pass down through the family.