By Jade Thompson.
Science dominates every aspect of our lifestyles. Harsh chemicals aren’t just for that squeaky clean finish cook top anymore. They’ve been revolutionised in such a way that they can stimulate pregnancy for even the most infertile women across the globe. We’re using science to find any way possible to have our ‘own’ babies while conveniently ignoring the children of the world struggling to find parents. In the last decade, 400-600 children have been adopted every year with over half being from other countries. Yet, the option of adoption has severely declined by almost a quarter since the Australia’s first records.
The door of Room 13 flings open and the English teacher approaches, eyes darting for the next parent in line. The annual parent-teacher interview sees every child frantically attempt to prepare their parents. I stand, nervous. A bomb of confusion explodes on the teacher’s face. She’s calculating, trying to determine if the white Scottish woman next to me, the Korean girl, is possibly who she thinks she is. “Jade Thompson’s … mother?” she says. ‘Who else, you fool?’ I think.
Adoption is a legal process by which a child becomes severed from the biological parents and given to others. My experience as an adopted child from South Korea has all but diminished the word ‘adoption’ in my relationship with my adoptive parents.. Australia has recently seen a decrease in inter-country adoptions that can be attributed to a number of causes. The power of sexual education and greater access to contraceptives in countries all over the world means that there aren’t as many children needing to be adopted. Despite this, there are still many children waiting to be taken in, loved and nurtured.
There is greater freedom in Australia for prospective parents to decide when they want to have children. Science plays its part by allowing the creation of new methods to induce pregnancy like the increasingly commonplace In Vitro Fertilisation (IVF). With all this new technology, who would think to adopt someone else’s child? The cons of adoptions have been commonly fabricated by the media and those who are poorly informed, and this has created fears in the minds of parents-to be.
The idea of biological parents looming in the background can be quite an intimidating factor. As can be the struggle to come to terms with taking in someone else’s child or adopting a child that mightn’t look like them. The Department of Community Services admits to adoption being a tedious process with costs stretching to $10,000. Potential parents are asking: What will I be to this child and what will they be to me?
It is because of the façade surrounding what is seen as the strange and unusual adoption that when I tell people I’m adopted, I am often greeted with an awkward silence. Some people say, “I’m sorry” and I think ‘What for?!’ People always stop to think about how to react when finding out. They’re fighting their burning curiosity to bombard me with questions while trying to appear sensitive and understanding. But there is nothing secret, shameful or sad about being adopted. I find myself encouraging people to ask questions to at least partially dispel the adoption myth.
Lisa Reavey is a mother of two with her third child on the way. She was like many of the uninformed until she met her husband, Callum, who was locally adopted in Australia. Although Lisa never considered adoption, she can acknowledge its value.
“I think it’s excellent. Before I met Callum, it was always unknown and strange to me; [meeting him] opened my eyes,” she said.
“Now, after having a child, I really admire those that can put their child up for adoption. I’ve bonded with our child and it hasn’t even been born yet. I admire people that can sacrifice the bond with their child by choosing to adopt rather than abort.”
Inter-country adoptions came about in the mid ‘70s, sparked by the Vietnam War. Orphans were sent over to Australia in what became our peak of overseas adoptions. We’re currently seeing three of every four adopted children coming from overseas countries, mainly China and South Korea. The gradual decline can be attributed to the influence of the contraceptive pill, family planning institutions and sexual education becoming readily accepted and available.
Eleanor and husband George both came from families with six children. Since the day they married, they had a plan to have six or seven kids themselves. For years, the couple tried fruitlessly, and Eleanor remembers the difficult process nearly ruining their marriage. After looking at their options, their choice to turn to adoption was an easy one.
They locally adopted their first son, now 27, as a baby. After being told to expect a two-year wait, Eleanor sprang for the phone every time it rang in the second of the two years. She vividly recalls that it was exactly 1981 on July 28th at 4pm that a man from the adoption agency rang, telling her: “you’ve got a little boy.”
“We stayed up all night. We started ringing family from America, Canada, everywhere. At 4 o’clock in the morning we set up the room and by 7.30 we were at the agency ready to get the letter to say we could pick up the baby. I looked at the address, I couldn’t believe it. The house we were going to was just around the corner. I was so nervous during the drive there. The foster mother opened the door. She was crying, we were crying, it was so lovely and nice.”
Three years later, to the couple’s surprise, they welcomed Eleanor’s pregnancy and their second son was born. Happy with their little family, Eleanor and George wanted more children. To adopt after having two children from Australia, their next option was to adopt through an inter-country adoption.
“When we applied to adopt a baby from Korea we went to a long seminar with around 500 other couples,” Eleanor said.
“It took years to get to this point. After much talking they said that if we had been put onto the Korean list we would get a child.” Eleanor paused at this point to imitate herself waiting, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, arms in the air in anticipation. She stops breathing for a moment. “Luckily, we were on the list,” She says, letting out a sigh of relief. “The couples that weren’t selected were separated from us into a different room. The process of waiting was very traumatic.”
After this, the family eventually welcomed their third child, a baby girl who is now 19. I asked Eleanor if she had any reservations about inter-country adoption.
“The adoption agency told us that when we would adopt a child from Korea, people were likely to come up and ask us why we brought an Asian into the country. They wanted to prepare us but I didn’t need to be prepared.
“I remember going to school one day when I saw a woman staring at my daughter. She started walking over and I thought, ‘How dare she stare at my daughter? Right! I’m ready for her!’ She said ‘is that your daughter?’ I replied sternly, ‘yes.’ She asked, ‘Is she from Korea?’ ‘Yes,’ I said, wondering where this was going. This woman just lit up. ‘We adopted Sophie from Korea too!’ I was taken back completely.’” The two became very close after that surprising encounter.
Having experienced both, Eleanor says that “there is absolutely no difference between having a child and adopting.”
“However, being pregnant and going through the labour process is absolutely fantastic. It took us nine years to get Ben and because the process is so long, we got too old and we couldn’t adopt any more. If we had the chance, we would have. Everyone was so happy for us the first time because it was our first child and then so happy the second time because we were able to give birth and then the third time because no-one thought it was possible. And this was people we didn’t even know! We got cards from people we hadn’t heard from in years!”
I recall a few days before our ninth birthdays, my friend and I were buzzing with excitement with our mothers at the bus stop. My friend’s mother casually commented, “You’d be in hospital with Jade around now wouldn’t you?” She froze, embarrassment thickly painted on her face. The bus came and my friend and I hopped on, looking out the window as the bus drove away, laughing at what just happened. Mum took it as a compliment that people didn’t look at us differently. It was at the age of 16 that it casually came up in conversation that my cousin was adopted too. Sixteen years of family Christmases, birthdays and weekends and I didn’t even know my own cousin was adopted. Then again, what does it matter?
I’m Korean on the outside, Australian in culture and I’ve definitely got the ‘Glasgow sense of humour’, but yet the identity of my parents and myself is set in concrete because of my adoption.