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FEATURE
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finding // KELCI SHIPLEY FAMILY
Adopted students and their choice to search
Sean McConville is lost in a crowd. It's the summer before senior year of high school and he's standing in a parking lot at 7 a.m. in Stillwater, Minn. Thousands of other runners are milling around, gearing up for the 10-mile race set to begin. He's searching for someone. She's supposed to be standing by that sign, but she not. He turns around and is immediately greeted by a woman with deep brown eyes and a big white smile. He's looking at his birthmother for the first time in 17 years.
McConville, Minneapolis, Minn., senior; grew up knowing he was adopted. Pictures of his birthmother, Becky, were in his family photo albums. She wrote him letters describing her daily activities and eventual graduation from college. The letters arrived once per year around Christmas, right before his birthday. McConville didn't write back. He says he didn't know what to say to someone who already knew so much about him from his adoptive mother. Sue. His was an open adoption, and Sue had kept Becky up-to-date on his development.
The consistent relationship between McConville's adoptive mother and birthmother allowed him to understand his adoption, but growing up an adopted child wasn't always easy. In his early teen years, McConville began to recognize the differences between him and his adoptive family.
He remembers sitting inside a cozy cabin on Lake Superior, his parents absorbed in books while he was itching to go outside and enjoy the beautiful weather. McConville says he likes being active, enjoying activities such as fishing and hunting. He says the differences between his on-the-move lifestyle and his adoptive parents' homey hobbies made him feel isolated.
Around the age of 14, McConville's adoptive parents approached him with the idea of meeting Becky. McConville says he'd always been curious about her and wanted to see her. McConville's adoptive'mom, Sue, told Becky and they arranged
a reunion. They planned to run the 10-mile race together as a tribute to their similar participation in track and cross country. Open adoptions make it easier for adoptees to locate and reunite with their birthmothers because birthmothers and adoptive parents often stay in touch, as Becky and Sue did.
Open adoption isn't a legal term, says Marilyn Waugh, director of Adoption Concerns Triangle, an adoption- and search-support group in Topeka. "Open adoption is designed to be a child-centered arrangement based upon the premise that humans need genetic continuity to attain a healthy identity," Waugh says. Historically, the push for open adoption began in the 1970s, when the stigma of unmarried mothers began to diminish. By the 1990s, closed adoptions were a thing of the past, giving way to open adoptions that facilitate ongoing contact between the birthmother and child.
Back in the parking lot, McConville is overwhelmed in the moment of meeting Becky. "Oh, god, what do I do?" he thinks. Becky is accompanied by her husband, Jim, and three daughters, Clara, Carly and Cece. Everyone smiles and looks at each other. She asks if it's OK to give him a hug. "It was the most surreal thing I've experienced," he says. "I felt like I knew her my whole life."
He and Becky get on the bus that takes them to the start of the race. They talk for awhile but McConville, who's not a morning person, starts to doze off. "I'll just let you sleep," Becky says. As the race is about to begin they jostle with the crowd for starting positions near each other. The gunshot sounds.
In between strides, Becky tells McConville of her relationship with his father, Dan. He was shut off from the beginning, not really wanting to be involved with the adoption process. She describes her pregnancy and her decision to give him up. She says she wouldn't have been a good mom and wasn't in the right place at the time, wanting to
maintain her life as a fun-loving college student,
"You would've hated me," she says.
Waugh, of Adoption Concerns Triangle, says meetings between birthmothers and their children benefit adoptees because it allows them to see someone who looks like them, realize their similar interests and understand any lack of connection they may feel with their adoptive family. "It's like going to the movies," she says. "You always want to see the story in the beginning."
At the finish line, McConville waits for Becky, who slowed down after they ran the first nine miles together. She was prepared for this to be the one and only time they meet, but McConville wants to keep a relationship going. They talk on the phone once per month and McConville visits when he's back in Minnesota. Although he has a continuing relationship with Becky, he's still never met his birthfather, Dan.
"It was the most surreal thing I've experienced.I felt like I knew her my whole life."
— Sean McConville,
Minneapolis, Minn., senior
McConville has had Dan's number for five years, but keeps putting it off. He says Dan's closed-off demeanor may be a factor in his hesitation. Despite his reluctance, McConville says he would regret not meeting Dan after hearing about their similar mannerisms and interests from Becky. McConville hopes to meet Dan sometime after graduating from the University in December.
After a successful meeting and continued
relationship with his birthmother, McConville says he's happy with the way his life's played out. Becky is supportive and loving, but doesn't try to replace his adoptive parents. "They'll always have the first 17 years," he says. McConville says he sees Becky more like an older sister than a mother. She doesn't try to "raise" him, and allows him to be his own person.
Another student raised by adoptive parents, Leah Cullen, is just starting down the path McConville has taken. Cullen, Overland Park junior, thumbs through an old yearbook at Haskell Indian Nations University. She lands upon a volleyball team picture of the purple-clad Lady Indians and spots a familiar face. It's her birthmother, Shelley. They have the same athletic skills, the same dark hair and the same brown eyes. "This is so weird." Cullen thinks. "I'm the same age, and I'm in the same place as you were."
Born at Lawrence Memorial Hospital in 1989, Cullen never thought she would be back in Lawrence. She was looking to play volleyball at the University of Arkansas, not considering attending school 30 minutes from her hometown. But now, Cullen is a KU student, and being here has made her want to find her birthparents, she says.
Like McConville, Cullen had an open adoption. She says she considers herself lucky to know as much as she does about her adoption. She knows that her birthparents both went to Haskell. Her birthmother played volleyball and ran track, and her birthfather played basketball and football. Shelley got pregnant at the age of 18 and gave Cullen up for adoption through Catholic Charities of Northeast Kansas three weeks after the birth.
Cullen says she knew she was adopted as soon as she understood the definition around age 3. Her adoptive mom, Patricia, says she began using the "adoption" word immediately in a familiar and positive way to help Cullen understand. Patricia says she let Cullen take the lead and answered questions about her birthparents' looks,
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