November 14 – 20 is being observed as Adoption Week. As the mother of two adopted children, MEENA RADHAKRISHNA shares her thoughts on a personal and rewarding experience. If asked to name key attributes in an adoptive parent, she says she would mention a firm belief in the superiority of nurture over nature and a conviction that parental love does not depend on a biological connection to be either generated or reciprocated. Hence the challenges adoptive families face are predominantly social and cultural.
Her children are currently aged 32 and 25 years old.This article was originally published in the Hindu in 2000.
HERE is a conversation familiar to most families, when introduced to a friendly and beaming stranger for the first time:
“And is that your daughter?”
“Yes?”
“She looks just like you!”
“Well ….”
“And, in fact, your younger one looks just like your husband!”
Though not of our flesh, they are of our spirit – and hence such a striking resemblance, I suppose. November 14 to 20 is being observed as Adoption Week and, as a mother of two adopted children, this is as good a time as any to share some thoughts.
Let me confess that when I was asked to write about my personal experiences for this occasion, my instinctive reaction was: But it is such a private matter. And my immediate thoughts were the reaction of my older daughter, now almost 14. What made up my mind was her question: “Have you sent off the article on adoption that you were discussing on the telephone the other day?” And I accepted that the decision to go public on this issue was going to be based on my daughters’ readiness, not mine ….
My most vivid memory of the day that we got a call from the adoption agency the first time round is of butterflies in the stomach. Looking back, I realise that the gestation period of nine months is a useful way of preparing a parent for the huge change that is about to happen in her or his life – we did not get even a day’s notice for our initiation into parenthood! We had put in an application some months earlier and were told we might have to wait indefinitely. And then one morning, when we were leaving for work as usual, we were informed that we could come and take a child straightaway. Bedlam followed. Commitments made months in advance could not be wound up; most had to be indefinitely shelved or cancelled altogether. The state of our non-preparedness was such that we told the agency to take care of the baby for a few more days while we rushed around collecting diapers, feeding bottles and sheets.
But what stands out equally in my memory is the way people rallied around. In fact, we found that, from day one, adopting a child is something of a community event. Everyone who came to visit had an opinion on the matter, which was expressed freely and energetically. Since I did not bear my infant daughter, it was assumed, in a well-intentioned sort of way, that we needed help on all baby matters (on the basis that we missed out on the “natural” knack of biological parents). We got repeated friendly advice on bathing, feeding, dressing a baby, especially from a neighbour who had never bathed, dressed or fed a baby in his life.
Friends helped in the most unthinkable ways. At such short notice, we had not been able to find a baby’s cot in a shop, and made desperate telephone calls to the unlikeliest of people. One evening, we had a lovely old-fashioned rosewood piece delivered to the house. The friend, who arranged it, had judged that we did not have our wits about us sufficiently to even go and collect it ourselves. Another offered to have cushions made so that the baby would not accidentally hurt her head on the slats. I particularly remember the friend who came within an hour of the baby’s arrival, and wholeheartedly joined us in admiring her – he also brought a very thoughtful present of a capacious bag to keep the baby’s things, so that we would not keep losing them in the chaos around the house! There were some lifelong friendships sealed during that phase.
The second daughter caused more commotion and comment, not just because of the unusualness of a second adoption in the same family, but also because she came to us when she was more than three-years-old. Like the previous child, she required prolonged and specialised medical care, but, being older, needed attention in other ways as well. This time my parents were in the same city and in their kindly, elderly way, they chipped away at her rather unnerving silence and reserve. On both occasions, our friends saw us through periods which were complex and stressful in different ways: they offered to accompany us on multiple visits to the doctor; joined us in amateur discussions on child psychology; baby-sat in order to give us a break; suggested practical ways of handling crises ranging from severe malnourishment to emotional bonding between the two children – they engaged with our situation as it was, and shared our anxieties as well as our triumphs. What has particularly struck me all along is the number of friends who seem attracted to the idea of themselves adopting a child!
Over the years, willy nilly, I have been placed in the pleasurable position of a counsellor to prospective adoptive parents, and I have tried to grapple with the anxieties they express. Today, if I were asked to name the two most important desirable attributes in an adoptive parent, I would unhesitatingly say: a firm belief in the superiority of nurture over nature and, second, a conviction that parental love does not depend on a biological connection to be either generated or reciprocated. I would further assert that the challenges to the success of an adoptive family are not genetic, but predominantly social and cultural.
The commonest worry expressed is that the child may be carrying unknown genetic baggage, which might make the entire process of parenting unpredictable or the outcome undesirable. I guess we all have some pardonable vanity in wanting to see in our children “our own” physical features, but surely the personality is mostly culturally induced? Even to those who believe that personality traits are inherited, a simple question might be asked: In the case of a biological child, is it not accepted that there will be some “surprises” because of some unknown ancestor from either parent’s side? Given the complex genetic makeup that all of us carry, there must be genes sweeping into us from the most faraway ancestors, contributing to our own unique share of undesirable genes. The adopted children’s physical trajectory is, of course, less predictable than that of a biological child, but the most relevant features can be identified with the help of doctors.
Some equally difficult worries are emotional ones: Will the child be accepted by the rest of the family? Will I really be able to love her? And so on. These doubts are natural and it is perhaps best to confront them honestly. But this desire for perfection on the part of the parent, before taking the plunge, has another perspective. From the point of view of the child, whatever “imperfect” love and security a parent would provide would always be immeasurably superior to institutional care. Also, abstract situations are often more daunting than actual ones – every child brings with herself an unyielding will (and skill) to extract her share of love out of any fair-minded adult.
The real challenges to an adoptive family, as I mentioned earlier, are social and cultural. While we discovered awesome generosity among our circle of friends, we also found that the act of adoption deeply threatens a typical mainstream person. This, on reflection, is because it upturns several prevailing social hierarchies. Children available for adoption mostly come from socially deprived backgrounds and, since girls are more readily given up by biological families, they far outnumber boys in an agency. Adoptive parents seldom care about the non- mainstream nature of the child’s caste, class, colour or creed, and many actually prefer daughters. They implicitly question not just the tremendous premium attached to sons or to genetic and social background, they also continually demonstrate something quite non-doctrinal: that individuals themselves create, and not acquire through lineage, meaningful human relationships. Given the package of established norms that adoption challenges, it is not surprising that sometimes the project runs into difficulty.
But having said this, I would like to end on another note. My daughters constantly stray into stretches of difficult social terrain, but they continue to learn to negotiate their way. As they unwittingly defy the universe’s existing laws, and as I join their battles, they have become the prime civilising and humanising impulses in my life. They are the chief causes of my torments, but they are also the main sources of my solace, and my deepest understandings. They untiringly confront me with questions which I am often tempted to hedge because there are no easy answers – questions of origin and identity; of love and kinship; of destiny and human choices. And while they become more adept at finding their own answers, they teach me to dare to hope – and to believe in children of the spirit everywhere.
The writer is a social anthropologist at the Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, New Delhi.