National Adoption/Adoptee Awareness Month

It’s November…again

Another month of National Adoptee/Adoption Awareness Month.

Another month of watching, listening, and reading the work of fellow adoptees.

I often sit in awe and silence and go a bit into my possum brain. (IYKYK)

It’s been a long while since I have offered an introduction, so let’s start there:

Hi! I am Jeri Lea. I am a therapist, a parent (via marriage and adoption), a white cis gendered woman, daughter, sister, friend, aunt, godmother (but not a very good one), “Dee” and more. 

I am also an adoptee from a domestic, same race adoption from the baby scoop era.

Recently I attended a work meeting where we each shared a baby photo and told an early story. This is the photo I chose. It is one of the first photos I have... 

I know, some may be thinking, “What do I do and where do I work that allows/requires you to share baby pictures and talk about your early stories!”

So weird, right?

Not really. It’s all pretty cool and kinda perfect!

Somehow I found my way to the field of infant & early childhood mental health. 

From years of caring for babies and young children to learning about attachment theory to finding out there was a specialty dedicated to safeguarding and/or healing the earliest of human relationships. 

It’s been a journey that is interwoven with my personal journey of learning to appreciate and honor the importance of my earliest days, even as that ran counter to the messages I received from the world at large. 

Like every adoptee I know, there hasn’t been one single moment of consciousness raising but many small and not so small moments strung together, sometimes with years in between. And the journey continues!

One such moment was back in the mid-90s (eek!) while I was in a post-graduate certificate program. It was a small cohort centered around supporting families with babies and toddlers. One day we were beginning with a new teacher, Bill Schafer, and as he closed the door to the classroom (and while I was busy setting up my name tent and not at all focused) he asked a surprising question, “How many of you here are adopted?” I was distracted but by the time the words landed in my brain and my brain made sense of them, it was too late to raise my hand. But what in the world? He then said, “Oh, well usually there are one or two adoptees in every group because adoptees are always fascinated with the origins of things.”

This was so confusing to me. Many years later when Bill became my mentor, I shared this memory with him and he shook his head in disbelief. He believed me but couldn’t believe he had said it in such a casual way.

It’s nearly 30 years later and I fully understand and own that statement he made. Adoptees are fascinated with the origins of things and for very good reasons!

Our origins matter!

The rhythms, sounds, smells, tastes and touches from the very beginning matter. Interruptions to these experiences, even when they are brief, matter.

Experiences that are “too much, too soon and too fast” (Menakem, 2017) during these early days matter disproportionately (more than they will just a few weeks from now (Perry and Winfrey, 2021).

Adoptees are passionate because we live in a world that continues to prefer and promote a narrative that nurturance, love and comfort matter more than who they are received from. 

Most prospective and expectant parents continue to not be prepared for the impact of those early disruptions, losses and traumas (too much, too soon, too fast) on their young baby or child. 

Thus, this is my greatest wish:

It’s time for the gap between the adoption professionals and the infant-family professionals to close. We can change the experiences for parents and very young adoptees and we should. That doesn’t mean that my field is immune to the persistent win-win narrative of modern adoption but it does mean that there are a group of early interventionists and clinicians who are already trained to be with and support complex family systems and vulnerable babies. 

Babies need attunement. 

Attunement requires being seen for who they really are. 

Being seen requires understanding who their family is, what their earliest experiences were, acknowledging their identities, familial, cultural and historical roots, preferences and more.

Seeing a baby clearly requires processing the losses, expectations and family wounds that led to this moment in this family.

The earlier they are seen and known, the earlier their adults can make decisions that are truly aligned with their best interests. 

Now dream with me if you are so inclined…

Maybe that might mean more expectant parents are supported in their time of challenge to find the resources and community they need to keep their family together. 

Or, if their heartbreaking circumstances still require it, they could make informed decisions AND receive the care they need throughout and after to tend to their broken hearts and practical needs.

Maybe it would mean that prospective adoptive/foster parents would seek out a consultation to discuss their expectations, hopes/dreams, losses and the needs of the child coming to their home.

Maybe it would mean more prospective adoptive parents would seek out therapy for themselves early in the process.

Maybe it would mean there would be fewer adoptees and for the ones still placed outside of their families, their new families would be supported skillfully from the beginning to ensure their connections to family of origin remain a priority, that all of their parents would have support around navigating sticky encounters, milestones, and stories to be told. 

Because adoption would be centered on the needs of the baby/child. 

Maybe it would mean…

That parents' education and growth would be ongoing, side by side with their child. 

That cycles of loss and trauma would finally be interrupted and healed. 

That ghosts in the child’s and parents’ pasts would be known and grieved.

That common early challenges for separated and relinquished babies around sleep, eating, separation and co-regulation would be identified and supported, instead of dismissed.

That more therapists, counselors and early childhood professionals would become informed and begin deconstructing the western story of modern adoption.

Who is ready?

I know many adult adoptees who are already sounding the alarm and shouting that the cost of this remaining a dream is far too high. 

It’s time for it to become our reality.

P.S. If this is already happening in your corner of the world, I would love to connect with you and hear more!

When Change is Good, Necessary and More Than a Little Scary

This past weekend I visited our local farmers’ market. After scanning all of the tents for my veggie options, I noticed several small spider plants in the midst of one woman’s table full of tomatoes and squash. They caught my eye immediately as I have recently been on a mission to green up our home (again). It takes some trial and error to find plants that survive under my care but I’ve had a good track record with spider plants in the past (as long as the cat doesn’t get involved). We currently have several plants that have been thriving for three years or more and my daughter has even been naming them. Now that’s confidence!

The spider plants were in thin 4 inch pots. I quickly chose one. It had short leaves and three stems with babies already growing from them. Impressive for such a tiny plant. Once I picked it up I realized that it also had many roots growing out the holes in the bottom. So many that it toppled each time I tried to settle it in my car for the short trip home.

With the roots extending out the bottom of the pot I realized I would need to be careful as I removed it from its home and transplanted it to the roomy vibrant yellow pot I had chosen for it. I made careful slits down the side of the pot in three places and as I peeled away the sides I discovered this! It was not the baby plant I was expecting. It was a plant that had been in its starter pot for a long time. And as an ADAPTIVE strategy it grew thick roots ready to hold more water and nutrients to fuel the growth of those baby spider plants above the soil. The density of roots was really impressive. They were growing down and then up, zigzagging like (sideways) intestines.

You may be wondering why I am spending so much time describing a small houseplant… Yep, this is still my professional blog, a resource for parents and individuals seeking insights and emotional support. If you are an adoptee, adoptive parent or someone who has ever felt stuck in a pattern, you might find value in my metaphor.

Honestly, this little plant and its impressive roots might not have resulted in much more than a quick photo if it hadn’t been for the larger experience I was immersed in over the weekend. From Friday evening through Sunday evening I attended a small (virtual) writer’s intensive for adoptees with writer and writing coach, Anne Heffron, who is also an adoptee. Anne lovingly led us through a variety of writing exercises to help us each find our voice, message and to work through blocks we had around writing (i.e. living). My new spider plant immediately reminded me of an exercise from Saturday where we were asked to image ourselves as a vessel/tube of potential and then she invited us to image our vessel as being wider, infinite even. How might we live differently? I immediately had a number of ideas. I see the places where I still get stuck (I am a work in progress). And I hear from fellow adoptees how many of them get stuck in similar spots. Resting, taking in the beauty and abundance around us, playfulness, connecting with our bodies and others, navigating conflict and maybe the most important of them all: believing in ourselves and taking risks were some of the ones that came to mind. We can get stuck in our small starter pot ways too.

At the same time, just like my spider plant, we are incredibly RESOURCEFUL. Our patterns are rooted in safety and survival. When, as adoptees, our roots were severed as babies or young children and we were replanted in a new family, we were lost and in shock. Where were those familiar sounds and smells? Whose hands are these? This isn’t what or who I was expecting. What if this happens again? I can’t let this happen again, I best stay close. Or for some, I better keep my distance. Whatever the strategy, it was used to prevent more pain and to allow us to survive. It was adaptive. And now many of us, from all outward appearances, are physically safe but are left with nervous systems that are still on high alert. How does one move out of survival and venture into a bigger vessel as a person or family?

(Or maybe this perspective is entirely new to you and you are seeing yourself or someone you love with fresh eyes. Thank you for being here and for being open.)

I have a few thoughts:

1. SAFETY - always start here. Get back to the basics of what makes you and your loved ones feel safe. Signals of safety are read by the nervous system from sensations inside the body, outside the body and between you and others.

   What qualities within your environment evoke calm and safety? Time outside in natural spaces can be grounding. When inside: soft lighting, certain music, smells, room temperature.

   What routines, foods and practices have you used that support feelings of safety?

   And lastly (but not the least of these by any means!) are the relationships that offer cues of safety (smiles, warmth, boundaries that feel mutual and safe, attunement, moments of joy, validation).

   If your and/or your child’s nervous system is needing some gentle guidance to shift toward safety consider the Safe and Sound Protocol as a way to open yourself up to being more regulated and receptive in the midst of whatever is next (a new therapy, relationships, a new school, another long winter).

2. COMMUNITY - all of these items feel especially hard during this long season of a pandemic and social reckoning. On the one hand, you may be spending much less time in-person with coworkers, classmates, friends and extended family. On the other hand, you have unprecedented access to PEOPLE LIKE YOU.

   If you are an adoptee then you can join a class or support group with other adoptees. There are many options for adoptees in all locations and for many ages/stages of the journey these days. Or maybe you are ready to try therapy again with a therapist who specializes in adoption and is also an adoptee? In either case, I am more than happy to connect with you and explore your needs and the resources that could best meet them, including therapy with me or someone else, a mentorship program or peer group.

   If you are an adoptive parent and are looking for community, there are numerous options too! If you are longing for a holding space to build meaningful connections, to tend to your own mama heart and discuss the challenges of caring for your young children with regard for their needs and perspective, I have a space just for you!

   In either case, please send me a note via my Contact page so we can connect and talk further. I look forward to connecting with you!

3. HEALING - One thing I have learned about healing from early trauma and adversity is that it is not a singular experience. Healing the body and brain we have requires an ongoing tending. And when possible it includes attention to all three elements simultaneously: safety, community and healing practices. For my own healing, and growth, I have benefited immensely from seeking out people who are compassionate, highly skilled and knowledgeable in the areas I am looking to grow into. I can close my eyes and see the healers and teachers who have held space for me, offered experiences of attunement, co-regulation and delight and have lovingly challenged me. Helping me move into a larger vessel or pot.

This is what I dream for you too. To have support and space to grow into your infinite potential as a person, parent or family. If I can be of support to you during this time in your journey, please reach out to me.

My new spider plant, Ida, is already stretching out and flowering in its beautiful and sturdy new pot.

Jeri Lea Kroll is a psychotherapist and parent coach specializing in early childhood, parenting, trauma, attachment across the lifespan and adoption using a lens informed by the attachment theory and the relational neurosciences. She is also an adopted person and adoptive parent. She provides therapy and coaching to individuals, parents and families virtually from her offices in Michigan. Jeri Lea offers a free 30 minute discovery session to those considering coaching or therapy. You can request a discovery session HERE.