I see the debate about God and Jetfire as a sort of Rorschach test — people see in it what they bring to it. If you think adoption is a blessing, you think Amy Seek was brave. If you see adoption as abhorrent, you think Amy Seek made an unnatural choice and that she’s paid the consequences through regret over the years.
And if you see adoption as infinitely complex, you notice the nuances in her story, the shades of gray and hues of color, so much deeper and more intricate than simple black and white interpretations. It becomes more difficult to sum up the book — or the experience of open adoption — in just a sound bite or two.
Amy Seek, a landscape architect and writer living in London, gives readers an account of her unintended pregnancy 15 years ago, her selection of parents for her son, and the complex — even competing — emotions she experienced during and after placement with her son and with his adoptive parents.
At first I’d envisioned this post with a courtroom-type presentation of the two sides. It might start something like this.
Amy Seek’s Vogue Article: Defending Open Adoption
Court is now in session *gaveltap*. The defense may present its case [we switch things up around here].
I have my own personal and portable DJ. Reed loves to play music for me as we drive from activity to activity. He plugs his iPod into the car’s reverse-USB port and carefully selects songs based on factors of the moment.
On a recent trip that was just the two of us — which meant he got to sit in the front seat — he chose songs from our past. One he got done fiddling with his iPod and the music began, he did something remarkable.
He reached out for my hand.
For the rest of the 15-minute trip, our fingers were as intertwined as our voices.
The next day, Tessa invited me to take the dog for a walk with her. “Come with me, Mama,” she said in the unguarded tone of voice I remember from her pre-teen days. And by “pre-teen” I mean “less hostile.”
We found the leash, clipped it on Dexter, and headed out the door. Before we even got around the corner, Tessa did something remarkable.
She reached out for my hand.
For the rest of the 15-minute stroll, our hands connected us and our stride synched us.