It All Worked Out in the End

Last Monday I was supposed to be in NYC, meeting Lori Lavender Luz in person for the first time and speaking on a panel at an event for the launch of Adoption Unfiltered by Sara Easterly, Kelsey Vander Vliet Ranyard, and Lori Holden. I contributed my story to the chapter on pronatalism and stepping away from adoption (Ch 19). How amazing to include the perspective of those who walk away from adoption and live without children in this insanely important book! 

I was so excited to be included and to be able to go... I live in the Greater Rochester Area of NY, but my best friend lives in Poughkeepsie, which is 4.5-5 hours by car and then from there just shy of two hours on a Metro North commuter train to Grand Central. I planned to drive to Poughkeepsie on Sunday, take the train Monday morning, take the 6 train to Union Station, and then walk to Spence Chapin or a location to have lunch or coffee with Lori. Then I'd do it in reverse after the event and then drive home on Tuesday. I was able to finagle those precious personal days. The plan was set. 

Well, I'm used to things not working out as planned at this point, but I was absolutely devastated when I loaded up my car and pushed the start button, only to hear an ominous clicking noise with an eerily dimming light show as if I was conducting a seance in my Subaru. 

Not good.

I tried, and then Bryce said stop trying in car it does more harm, and of course it was Sunday so the dealership wasn't open. So I called roadside assistance. They sent someone to jump the battery, but when he arrived, the battery wouldn't do anything. He said it must be the starter. And I should get a tow to the dealership and figure it out tomorrow. As in Monday. The day I had important plans in NYC. 

I started frantically looking at Amtrak schedules, but my only option was a 5 am train that would get me in by afternoon and cost as much as a flight. And it wouldn't help my car situation, since I had to get it towed Monday morning when the dealership opened. I was pretty much fucked. 

Also, due to extenuating circumstances, I couldn't stay at my best friend's house and so she had booked me a hotel room nearby. I didn't want her to be out a couple hundred dollars because of my possessed car. I tearfully called the hotel and managed to get her a full refund, even though at this point it was past check-in time. I must have sounded very, very sad. 

I was. I cried, I sobbed messily. Not just because of the lost opportunity to speak about our adoption experience and walking away and to be a part of the book launch, but mostly because I REALLY WANTED TO MEET LORI IN PERSON. And Sara and Kelsey, but Lori I've known through blogging for oh, 13 years, and that was my most favorite part of this trip. 

But, I sent Lori what I had written up for my question, in case it was helpful. And also to let her know I was prepared and this sucked all the balls. 

And... She read it, shared it, and they decided to ask if Spence Chapin could zoom me in! Oh wow. Wow wow wow. I crossed my fingers, legs, toes, eyes, anything I could in case this was a possibility. 

On Monday, the tow truck came at 6 a.m. (the roadside service called at 5:25, ewww), the guy checked the car, and said, "your battery is at 4 volts. It is drained." He jumped it... And it started.

This was good because I could drive it to the dealership, especially because it wasn't a flatbed and that really doesn't work for all-wheel drive cars and my garage spot is very tricky to back out of, even when the car is operational.

But it was bad because WHY DID MY CAR NOT WANT ME TO GO TO NYC? I was frustrated. I used my one personal day to take care of my car and get a loaner, since I really wanted to know why my car was behaving this way (it's a 2023, and I didn't leave a light on, so WTF?). I can only surmise that if I had gone, someone would have pushed me in front of a subway train. The universe REALLY didn't want me to go down there.

But then... ZOOM WAS A GO! I was so excited. Bryce was more optimistic than I was as he had said earlier, "make sure you practice just in case." That was good advice. I practiced, I fine tuned, I timed myself, and rehearsed saying my thoughts without reading off a piece of paper. And then, at 6:15, I was let into the event, virtually. 

At first, I was a ghost, in the background but not visible or audible, as the launch screen was up while the authors spoke about the book and read from their sections. Then it was time for the panel, and I saw them putting the screen together... And then thought, don't be the whole screen, don't be the whole screen... Aaaah nooooo it's the WHOLE SCREEN!

Behold, my giant head, looming over the in-person speakers.

 

I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL OZ!

I was on that screen for no joke, 45 minutes. Lots of nodding and trying not to touch my face. 

My 2-3 minutes went well -- I couldn't hear anyone who wasn't mic'd and I couldn't see the people in the audience, so I had zero feedback. I didn't know if people were receptive or thought I was a jerk. I started with a joke about my giant head, which apparently people laughed at, but I had no cues for how to react. So I answered my question and retold our experiences of questionable ethics that likely make our wait longer and our exit inevitable (but kept our integrity intact). 

My question, courtesy of Lori:  Did it surprise you too be asked to contribute your thoughts to an adoption book? Why do you think your viewpoint, and a conversation about pronatalism (chapter 19) -- living in a culture that values parents over nonparents -- is important in unfiltering adoption?

The panel was AMAZING -- adoptees, birth mothers, adoptive parents, the author of American Baby, (and me). The questions the authors designed wove in and out of our disparate but connected stories and authorities. It felt seamless, and very powerful. 

I was so proud to be a part of it, and so bummed not to be there in person to chat with people after. But also so grateful that they were willing to zoom me in to share my fringe-y perspective on the need for reform in adoption. 

Later, Lori let me know that it went really well. I was not a jerk, I was apparently well-spoken and a perspective not often heard. I was framed as "brave" for sharing experiences that showed our adoption agency in an unfavorable light (not that I named them or have ever named them). I didn't feel brave, although maybe in person I would have, given it was hosted at an adoption agency. I just feel it is so important to be honest. Even if it is uncomfortable. 

What an amazing opportunity. What a great experience. Thank you, thank you to the Adoption Unfiltered team! And, if you haven't already, go read the book *-- it is incredible and important and makes for excellent windows and mirrors. I learned a lot about different perspectives and experiences, especially the birth mother side of adoption. I am so proud to be even a tiny part of this amazing project and movement. 

*Also available at Amazon, but if you can support an indie bookstore through Bookshop.org, please do!