Tag Archives: Adoptive Family

In the end, too many adoptees will leave this world alone

Rudy Owens self-portrait with the latest health challenge on full view

My current health situation, that has only started and won’t get better for a long time, reminds me of my years intervening to support my adoptive mom (who I call “mom”) and my adoptive sister. Mom died in February 2020 after a long bout with Alzheimer’s, and my adoptive sister, who is in a nursing home, is not well.

Maybe I could have done more to help both of them. I still do what I can to help my adoptive sister. My stepdad did more than seven years of heroic caregiving for my mom, and I appreciate what he did. Now that I find myself with serious health challenges, it’s sobering to realize how no one should go through life without someone to watch their back, particularly at the end of life.

In my case, there is no one in my adoptive family or stepfamily of 41 years who would step in to help me, even if we lived in the same community. Right now, I’m sure my three stepsisters know I’m injured by talking to my stepdad, and yet none have even sent an email. We live scattered, far from each other. This is the reality for all of these relations. If I am injured worse than I am now, I am entirely on my own. I continue to plan my life and the next chapter of my life with this as a daily priority to address.

I also think about being adopted and what compassion and care mean for the millions denied their biological relations by this oppressive system rooted in law, religious bias, politics, economics, social practices that have exploited many groups and single moms, racist practices that remove children of color from their kin networks, and corruption that has brought hundreds of thousands of persons to the United States to meet a “market demand.”

We adoptees are robbed of our many, many kin—parents, siblings, half-siblings, cousins, second cousins, aunts, uncles, second aunts, second uncles, third cousins, third aunts and uncles, nieces, nephews, and countless more. All of these relations are also those who naturally and logically would be there to help us through life’s challenges. This is because the nature of our biological kinship, the root to our survival as a species from a socio-evolutionary perspective that is documented clearly in scientific research.

Rudy Owens and his recently found bio-kin in Finland, photographed in September 2024–we are family at the most elemental level and especially by blood kinship.

In my case, I am entirely on my own. No one is there to “watch my back.” It is a situation I have to deal with.

The one positive note from this sobering reality is I at least know I have biological kin in Finland—found in 2023—who genuinely care about me because we are kin. We are not all aligned politically. We are connected by biology, blood kinship, and genetics. At least I have this reservoir of knowledge to draw upon understanding how kinship works at a biological level in how we treat each other.

My blood kin in the United States, many who have died, live far from me. For those on my biological mother’s family, I am not connected with many. Some never even knew about me until recently, and our close “proximity” to each other as blood kin also creates tension that they cannot accept. The real barrier is my status as the bastard—the dark and dirty secret who had to be abandoned to this system of adoption to preserve society’s needs and to remove the dark stigma that illegitimacy has always represented globally to society all the way down to the individuals in families.

I cannot change anyone, and I cannot make anyone want to know me. What I can do now is make a plan to be ready for this final chapter.

I accept what adoption has done to my natural biologically-rooted safety net—because that is reality. Finland is very much on my mind as place to consider my last chapters. At least there, it is a society that cares for everyone, unlike our country that is unable to achieve lasting change for the better of us all.

My holiday card tradition on Thanksgiving day

Habits can be extremely rewarding.

One of mine is to write my holiday cards on Thanksgiving day. I have kept this tradition for more years than I can recall. No matter where I have lived or what happened on that day, I always found time to think about those in my life, including family and friends.

The act of writing and remembering reminds me of the bonds of connection I have with people far-flung across this country. Some of these connections help sustain me, good times and bad. Some have little impact in my life.

I went with an Oregon-themed card this year. In past years I have made my own. On each of the cards I create a personal message, written by hand and signed. A regular theme, if I can find one, is to share a positive wish of good fortune for the coming year. It is always preferable to be positive, even when we know some persons may be experiencing hard times, like some of my relations and friendships.

In my case, my card writing involves my circle of friends who seem to remain a part of my life as I age. They can be called my “chosen circle.” They are not family, for me at least. They matter a great deal in my life.

My “family card list” includes my step-family, my adoptive family, and my biological family. Because I am adoptee, and because that status is fraught with complexities about the meaning of “family,” my holiday card tradition has challenged me.

Having had a step-family since I was 18 years old, I can vouch first-hand that these relations are not easy. Step-family bonds are not blood-based or kinship-based.

Everyone in those dynamics knows the minefields, and to deny these tensions is to deny the critical role of genetic kinship in how all species, including humans, care for and help their close genetic relations succeed. This is equally if not truer of adoptive-family relationships.

I explore this in my greater detail in my adoptee memoir and critical exploration of the U.S. adoption system, in my chapter appropriately titled “Blood is thicker than water.”

Author and adoptee Rudy Owens gets ready to mail his 2022 holiday cards to his biological, step-, and adoptive family and friends on Thanksgiving day 2022.

In my book, You Don’t Know How Lucky You Are, I write about the meaning of relationships with non-biologically related step-family and other distal adoptive kin: “There simply is no bond that joins us, much the way I feel about my adoptive cousins, uncles, and aunts. For me, there is no blood that ties us, nor DNA to bind us. We are not true kin, both as I perceive it and as I have experienced this relation for decades now.”

Yet each year, on Thanksgiving I will still write letters of fellowship for the coming Christmas, or winter holidays if you prefer to call it that.

There is very little power I have to create relations where none are hardwired to exist by the determinant laws of biology and genetics. What I do control is my ability to offer a hopeful gesture. Whether that gesture is accepted or rejected, like so much in our lives, is not in our power to manage.

Because I was separated as a newborn baby from my biological family by laws and systems that erased my past and discriminated against me and millions of others by status of birth, I only began my biological family relations in my mid-20s. I explain all of this in my book for any reader seeking to understand what that means for me and other adoptees.

As someone who is now in my mid-50s and getting older, I remain clear-eyed how those relations will remain forever impacted by this system of separating families. And with my surviving biological family members who I do have contact with, again, I am not able to control how they respond. It has never been simple or easy to explain to anyone who is not adopted and separated from their biological family relations.

So with Thanksgiving now behind us, and my holiday cards on their way to my blended, adoptive, and biological family, I will celebrate what some may call our betters selves, to be the person I prefer to be.

Yes, adoption as a system forever made my holidays a mixed up time, but I have, for decades now, not let this define the meaning I give this time of year freely.