Complaint Review: Boston Adoption Bureau Marilyn Speiser

Informed Consent

What my husband,original father, and I learned about what "informed consent" would have looked like after having survived through 13 years of, what we would have considered to be, a very superficial relationship(aka "open" adoption). Other than the obvious FOG, what I was never told would be the significant loss my child would feel.The CPTSD,inconsolable pain and misery, that I felt,my infant was most likely experiencing too. I was only told about the gains,even after bringing up concerns brought to me by other adoptees. I was told that only happened during the closed adoption era. This would only be a gain for my child, because she would always know us. That's because the adoption was "open" it would be as if I was a second mommy. I had no idea the guilt I would feel and the sense of obligation to facilitate the wants ofthe adoption agency, and subsequently, the adopters.The agency sold them as ethical people within the adoption community, with the wife being a social working adoptee herself, She KNEW adoption. This was mentioned as I read through their bombastically proud "Dear Birthparent" profile. Knowing that they had one failed adoption under their belt, I felt an obligation. For me,consent would have been knowing that my child's father would too feel that obligation, lecturing me about "doing the right thing" when I told him;" I didn't want to give her to them". How my own doctor and nurse would brush off my tears by telling me I was just hormonal, and I had made a plan! One nurse boasted that she had an unexpected child, and it was very difficult, that maybe she should have chosen adoption too. Another nurse even went as far as to tell me that she had a dream about me giving my child to her daughter. I never felt like such a commodity while simultaneously feeling like an unwanted handmaiden. That the day after I gave birth, the potential adoptive parent husband, a SPAC, would sit on my bedside and pluck through our "contract" saying; "it's what I do for a living." Vocalizing his own rejection of my want for certain things. That they would omit certain details so I wouldn't add in that I wanted her name kept unchanged, along with her religion.They called her by the name I chose until the papers were signed; along with claiming to be interfaith, then all of a sudden, they were living in a strict religious, single-faith household. Informed consent within an "open" adoption would have been knowing that the adopters would try and pit my husband /firstdad and myself against each other.That I'd have to curb my emotions to meet the APs needs, ultimately, to ensure visits with my child. Something almost always monitored, like a prisoner of the state. I once mentioned us taking her out alone, only to be met with defensiveness, insecurity and stonewalling. Everything I emailed to them was used to try to prove I was somehow unreasonable, unintelligible or unstable. During the pre-placement phase, filled with phone calls and visits, they said I would share a "special bond" with the adoptive mother. The PAP/ husband went as far as to email this to my husband, then long-distance boyfriend,behind my back while he was at work. Most communication was behind both of our backs, until it was apparent we were loyal to one another. I would have liked to know that pre-adoptive matching would cause me to feel like I owed strangers my child due to the sheer pressure and intrusive nature of the arrangement. That I would be manipulated during the most vulnerable time of my life.Neither my partner nor I had family by our side. Informed consent would have meant knowing that my parents would promise to help out after I left the hospital. That I would be threatened with temporary foster care placement if I changed my mind, (said while in the hospital as the adopters were dressing her to go home), which rang in my head, while my parents spoke. This experience has been incredibly disturbing to say the least. I would sense that neither the APs nor my daughter respected me...infact, my child seemed almost embarrassed of us. Not surprising since even my heritage had been poked at, and my name was constantly mis- pronounced. I wish I knew about reactive attachment disorder and that I would feel as if I was facing the entire brunt of my child's hate. Like an uninvited guest in my daughter's life. Like I was left out of the joke, and the joke was me. Like I was made the quientiential scapegoat for a family born out of toxicity. Realizing I was too naive to fully comprehend the evils of the privileged. A businessman and social worker know how to bait and switch.They are the masters of quiet omission,and covert narcissism.The pandemic made it easier to box us in...like we were so used to...being the not so secret secret. Knowing that the AP, also an adoptee, punished me as if I was her own biological mother. Knowing that she was still oblivious to all of our pain,because she too was a wounded adoptee, just unwilling to give up the adoption rainbows. They had no empathy, only entitlement. Informed consent would have been us being told that we were throw away people. That we would always be compared to,competed against and worn down to the point of resignation.That we would be graced with all of the funerals, while they received all the birthdays. When we left the adoption I felt as if I had escaped the impossible, much like a victim of domestic violence. Unknowingly initiated into a tragic codependent relationship, centered around, not the pain of my daughter, but the infertile adopters. Informed consent would have been enlightening us on the trauma we were creating for generations to come. I will never stop fighting for a relationship with my daughter, although I should have never had to.

Thoughtfully,

Megan