The Adoption From Peru

The Adoption from Peru
Summer 1994
Philadelphia, PA

Deb is friends with both my sister and me.  Years ago, we studied at Penn State University.  And we have remained friends ever since.  As a matter of fact, she moved to Philadelphia after college.  So she was frequently at my mother’s table for dinner, listening to our stories and filling us in on the dysfunctions of her family.

When Deb was 32, she announced that she was going to adopt a child.  Deb was single with no hint of a partner in sight.  She was in the midst of starting up her private day care center and always just one small financial disaster away from losing her business.

“Deb, Deb, Deb”, my father would comment as she posed one financial or legal question after another to him.  Deb often asked my parents for advice from time to time.  And sometimes, they just offered her advice, whether she asked for it or not. “May I make a suggestion” my father would ask.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t have her own parents.   Both of Deb's parents are living but they are much older and they fret over her.  In dealing with all things controversial, they often ignore the truth. For example, one time, Deb got an invitation from an unknown family to attend their reunion.  Puzzled, Deb took the invitation to her mother.  The mother took one look at the invitation and panicked. “Oh, that.  I was hoping they wouldn’t invite you.” And that was the end of the conversation.  But it served to confirm Deb’s suspicions.  Deb's mother had been married before and her three much older brothers were really her half-brothers.  The secret had been kept from Deb and even as it was now opened, it wasn’t discussed because it was still too difficult for the mother to handle. So Deb did not attend the reunion at the request of her mother. Deb stepped in line, right behind her now half-brothers and buried her mother’s secret, never to be discussed again.

But now Deb had a big life changing decision to make and she wanted my parents’ feedback.

“Deb, Deb, Deb”, my father shook his head.  My mother, who had 7 children of her own, always commented that “kids aren’t all they are cracked up to be.” And as each of my siblings married, my mother would pull them aside, the night before their weddings for the “talk”.  Her message was consistent “Why don’t you be the aunt, not the mother.  Don’t have kids.  Be the rich aunt who gets to go on trips and buy expensive jewelry. You don’t need to have kids these days.”  And so, Deb got some sort of version of my mother’s take on motherhood.

My parents’ lack of encouragement didn’t deter Deb.  She began to pursue the process of adoption.  Being single, the options in the USA were limited.  So she was going to have to pursue an adoption in a foreign country.  When I heard that she was going to Peru to adopt a daughter, I worried about Mrs. Grant’s reaction.

“Deb,” I told her, “Your mother is going to have a hard time explaining this to her neighbors.  She is going to fear that people will think you had sex with a black man.”  Deb was incredulous with my statement. “Oh please, my mother is not that bad.  She wouldn’t think that.”  Deb spoke as if she adamantly believed this but I knew she would store this thought away for further reflection.

The process moved along slowly and Deb kept my family apprised of her situation.  And with each update, we asked the same question, “Have you told your parents yet?”  And sheepishly, she respond “No, not yet.”  She just didn’t have the courage to face their confusions and fears of this big decision.

And so, on Thanksgiving night, I am at my parents’ house when the phone rings.  It is Deb calling.  “I told them” she tells me before I even get to say “hello.” There is relief and exhaustion in her voice. I know right away that she had to talk about it.  But I interrupt her.  “Just a minute”, I say.  And without even covering the receiver, I shout to the rest of my family, who are scattered, all over the house, “Deb told her parents.”

My mother charges out of her bedroom. “Don’t say another word. Tell her to come over right away.  We want to hear the whole story.”

It is now 9PM.  Deb has just driven 1 ½ hours from her parents’ house.  It would be another ½ hour before she got to my parents’ house.  But she agrees to come over.

The doorbell rings.  My mother gives the command, “put the kettle on. Let’s have tea.” And we charge down the steps, answer the door and take a seat in the living room.

I can hear my father call out, “Don’t start without me.”  I look up and see him trotting down the steps in his worn out, old man flannel pajamas. He is tightening the belt of his plaid robe.

After we have all congregated, Deb is giving front and center stage.  My mother advises her, “give us all the details, don’t leave anything out.”

Deb laughs in disbelief of our perverse interest in her story.  And yet she is also comforted in our understanding of what a monumental step this was for her. Deb cannot get through a sentence without one of us interrupting, asking for clarification, wanting more details, more descriptions.

She gets through the story and the turns to me and says, “And you know what she asked me? How am I going to explain this to my friends?”

“Explain what“, Deb asked her.

“Well, what color will she be?  Will she be black?’

And then Deb thought of my statement.  And she is disappointed in her mother.  But her mother is nearing 80 and she is who she is.  So Deb pulls back from the offense of the question.

“You can introduce her as your adopted granddaughter”, Deb tells her.  And that seems to satisfy the mother for the moment.

The news of the adoption was not well received by her parents.  And so the evening ended a little earlier than expected.  Deb got out of town shortly thereafter.  She needed to leave before any more hurtful comments fell out of her mother’s worried mouth.  Her father, on the other hand, was speechless.  And when she said her goodbyes, both parents cried.  And Deb shook with the dual feelings of relief and fear.  Relief that she had the courage to tell them and fear that she was now going too far beyond her family limits.

So she came to my family for comfort and reassurance that the world would be alright tomorrow.  She gave us every minute detail of her real life drama.  And we treated her story as if it were good sit-com material, as if we were listening to an episode of Seinfeld.