Writing » The Chronicles of Munchkin Land

Why I Won’t Write for Your Adoption Agency Blog

Adoption, in General, Ethics in Adoption 8 Responses »

Mar 242011

Over the past few years — and more frequently in the past few weeks — adoption agencies, facilitators and attorneys have contacted me and asked if the could “syndicate” a recent post of mine on their website. Despite my FAQ specifically saying that — hell to the no — I won’t write for your adoption agency blog, people keep asking. I thought I would share my specific reasons for refusing to do so. In the future, I will just reply with this link.

1. First and foremost, no, you cannot copy/paste my post on your site with a mere linkback and call it “syndication.” My writing takes time, effort and skill. You may think that you’re offering me a great deal; exposure via more hits on my site and more name recognition within the adoption community. But I don’t care about hit stats and I am quite fine building my own name recognition in the ways that I find appropriate. If you want bloggers to share a post they have already written on their site, research syndication standards. For an example of a good syndication offer and program, please view BlogHer’s awesome program.

2. Secondly, I will not take the time, effort and skill to create a post of original content for your agency site. My time is precious. If I am taking the time to create original content, it will be for my sites or for someone who is paying me — with rare exceptions. I have been known to write for free on certain websites (big name sites, friends’ blogs as a guest post, charity), but trust me, I won’t make an exception for an adoption agency. Why? See below.

3. Most importantly, I don’t trust you. There are very, very few adoption agencies currently in “business” whom I consider ethical. I’m talking under five. And even for those very few, I wouldn’t write for them. Why? Until ethical reform happens and turns the table on the business of adoption, a chance exists that a previously ethical agency could get greedy and ruin their previous ethical standing. If something like that happened — and my name was on their website as a contributing writer — it would be perceived that I was approving of their lack in ethics. And I’m not. Even if you offered me lots of money (see issue #1), I do not want my name to be associated with an agency that isn’t on the up-and-up. So, in the end, I won’t chance writing for your agency just in case you decide to trample on expectant parents’ rights, fathers’ rights, adoptee rights, adoptive parent rights or feel like charging adoptive parents crazy amounts of money — just because you can.

It’s pretty simple.

Maybe someday, when ethical reform comes along (because it will) and agencies are forced to adhere to laws and codes of conduct, I’ll reconsider. Until then, the answer is no.

Because you can still charge a different amount of money for a “healthy white baby” and a “healthy black baby.” Because you can move an expectant mother to a different state to avoid dealing with the biological father and his pesky rights. Because you refuse to believe that having the same attorney for birth parents and adoptive parents is a conflict of interest. Because you have unlicensed employees offering biased counseling to expectant mothers — who often turn around and tell the potential adoptive parents what was discussed during said counseling. Because you use coercive language (do you have a section for “birth mothers” on your site?) and tactics (presenting adoptive parents as perfect and reinforcing that single parents are somehow less than). Because you force adoptive parents to pay for expectant parents’ expenses (which is legal in some states, but not ethical, thus forcing a form of obligation on the expectant parents’ part and a totally unfair burden on the part of the adoptive parents. Because you still sell semi-open/semi-closed adoptions as real open adoption. Because you neglect to tell expectant parents considering relinquishment the laws about openness in their state. Because your education about the trials and tribulations and awesomeness of openness are lacking, setting families up to fail. Because you neglect to offer post-placement options for families, setting them up to fail. Because you are not involved or — at the very least — supportive of adoptees’ fight for the Original Birth Certificates. Maybe you’re not doing all of those things. Maybe you’re only doing one. But one is still unethical.

And sadly, the list goes on.

I don’t fault you for not understanding blogging as a real medium, thus worthy of pay and consideration of the author. Many agencies are new to the blogging world and lacking a knowledge of proper etiquette. I will let you know that linking to a blogger and using a fair use snippet of their piece is acceptable practice. (For more on that, see “The More You Take, The Less Fair Your Use Is Likely to Be” section in this very important piece at NOLO. PS: See how I did that?) I approve of agencies, facilitators and attorneys linking to and appropriately citing bloggers, especially when they are discussing ethical reforms and issues.

But, no, I won’t write for your agency (or your facilitator or your attorney) until you can prove to me that you are acting above and beyond what is legal and have moved into an award-worthy ethical way to conduct adoptions. Until then, please understand and respect my desire not to be associated with your “brand.”

Five Years Ago, Almost: Expanded Upon

Adoption, in General, Birthdays 10 Responses »

Dec 122008

Once again, I wrote something in my personal journal that is somehow well-written enough to share here. I think, after her birthday passes, I need to write about writing and the differences I have found in my process as of late. But as today is Birthday Eve, my mind cannot begin to form coherent thought on that topic. Instead:

Five years ago everyone that meant something in my life had plans. My parents were heading out for dinner and a Christmas concert to celebrate, a day in advance, their anniversary. My grandparents were headed out for a Christmas party. [My best friend] was heading out for dinner with her fiance. And [my now husband] was away with the Army that weekend. Even [Munchkin's intended parents] were unavailable, attending a Bon Jovi concert.

While I had had experienced several bouts of preterm labor that had to be stopped via various methods and doses of what we assume to be safe-for-baby drugs and a plethora of braxton hicks contractions, I knew when the contractions started that evening that it was different. The books you read, none of which had been given to prepare me for the impending birth of my firstborn, tell you that you’ll just know when it is time. I knew. And still, I said nothing. I was home alone with my fourteen year old brother.

I sat at mom’s laptop in the dining room, timing contractions as I played solitaire. As complicated as the pregnancy had been with the surgeries and ambulance trips and dramatic health issues, to say nothing of the emotionally taxing decisions that still hung in the air, I wasn’t quite ready for it to end. The night before, a Thursday evening, she had flipped and flopped and kicked so hard that I told my mother she was throwing a party within my womb. I did not know, however, that it was her going away party.

I went to bed before my parents returned home, resting on my side to see if the contractions would stop. They did not. When my parents arrived home, I called the hospital to ask whether or not they would send me home if I had not dilated any more seeing as how I was only 38 weeks. When I received what I already knew to be the answer, I just went ahead and attempted to sleep.

And Friday, December 12, 2003 drew to a close as I rested my head on that pillow. It was the last day that I was ever her only mother. It was the last day that she was truly mine. It wasn’t yet her birth day as my water wouldn’t break until 4:30 in the morning. But it was the last day she was mine and mine alone. Even in the hospital, it was a different story.

I think, perhaps, this year is hitting me so hard as the days of the week are the same as they were five years ago. If today was a Wednesday, I don’t know if I would be so stricken with emotion. I am also partly blaming the blasted full moon. I have just now burst into tears. it’s going to be a very long weekend. I am thankful for the distraction of my concert, but it doesn’t remove the hurt, the loss.

Nothing ever will, I suppose.

I have, if you’ve been reading our family blog, forced myself to remain positive this week. I will do so again tomorrow. But I will also allow myself this room to breathe and feel. I do not feel that being honest about these emotions is whining, or, really, I hope that they are not perceived as such. I think I’ve passed, long ago, the whining phase of this healing process of mine. I will, of course, admit to going through the phase: the “why me, this sucks, someone make it better” phase. I believe we must all pass through that, whatever our journey.

As I sit here, dressed nicely after a good, cathartic, full-on cry in the shower, I feel much better. I am back in my positive frame of mind even though my heart, as to be expected, aches. It helps, perhaps, that snowflakes are dancing outside of the window to my right. They’re not falling exactly; a light breeze is blowing and, as the snowflakes are the small, flitty kind and not the big, fat kind, they are litterally dancing their way to the ground. Like my oldest son, the Munchkin came into the world on a snowy day. It wasn’t yet snowing five years ago now, but on her birthday the world was coated in white.

I will make it through this birthday, like every year. I have no doubt that I will shed a few more tears, seeing as how I just got misty-eyed again. But, again most likely attributed to the amount of healing that I have done this year, I am feeling better able to handle it. Not un-sad. But better able to acknowledge that sadness, process it properly and still find room for the joy that is, literally, all around me.

I would, therefore, admit to some improvement in how I handle this birthday issue. In prior years, I never would have been able to acknowledge or celebrate any type of joy at this time. I would have let the weight of the grief and loss overwhelm me and suck any life out of what was going on in my life. I think that as I realize I have moved past that phase, well, I feel very proud of the work that I have done this year.

There is hope yet. Or, perhaps better stated, there is always hope. Always.