In the best of all possible worlds, government would never intrude on that most critical of relationships, the one between a child and the people who conceived him. But the government often intrudes.
It requires that the parent send the child to school and determines what will be taught. It requires a certain regimen of childhood vaccinations against disease. It will investigate if someone suspects a child has been mistreated by a parent, and it will yank the child from his home if the suspicion is borne out. The government decides what rights the parent has over the child, and declares when the child is emancipated from his parents.
The Illinois legislature is being asked now to take a stand on one of the most gut-wrenching parent-child issues: What right does an adopted child have to know who gave birth to him, and what right do birth parents have to learn about a child they relinquished?
In Illinois, as in most other states, adoption records are kept secret, even from the people most intimately involved in the transaction.
There is a movement in the legislature to open those records when the adopted child reaches adulthood, a movement driven by parents and children who cry that the state has denied them knowledge of their own flesh and blood, knowledge of themselves.
The particulars of the bill, sponsored by Rep. Sara Feigenholtz (D-Chicago), are in flux. In its original form, it would have given adopted children and biological parents the right to see the original birth certificate and a synopsis of pertinent adoption court records–enough, in most cases, to launch a successful search for the unknown parent or child.
A parent or child could declare in writing that they did not want to be contacted, but the declaration would carry neither any legal weight nor any penalty if it were violated.
That bill drew such fierce opposition from bar groups, adoption agencies and legislators that a routine parliamentary action to keep it moving was defeated Wednesday in the House. So it is being substantially reworked.
Now the sponsors want a bill that would allow people to have a state-sanctioned intermediary make discreet contact with the parent or child being sought. If parent or child told the intermediary that no contact was welcome, the matter would go no further. But if the parent or child couldn’t be reached or didn’t respond, the records of the adoption would be opened to the person seeking them.
Two very compelling–and often competing–interests are at stake here.
Some adopted children say they do feel a deep need to learn about themselves, about their blood relatives. They want to find their birth parents. Some birth parents have similar feelings. Indeed, a virtual cottage industry of volunteers and searchers-for-hire has sprung up to do the difficult detective work made necessary–and often fruitless–because the state won’t relinquish records.
From their perspective, the issue seems clear as day: How can the state hide personal information from the very people that information is about? The state has no reason to keep birth records secret; the state has stigmatized adoption by keeping those records secret; the state should reverse its half-century-old policy of confidentiality.
Ah, if only it were so easy.
Illinois consummates adoptions with the guarantee to birth mothers and fathers that the records are sealed, that their anonymity will not be violated. If they choose not to tell anyone they conceived and gave up a child, they will not be compromised by the state. The state has a compelling interest in abiding by the promise of confidentiality and–since that promise in some cases probably tipped the decision toward giving birth instead of abortion–a compelling interest in providing that promise in the future.
So which interest should carry the day?
The records should remain closed. The experience of other states is so scant–only three have open records–that it is not possible to predict with certainty what the impact of the proposed change would be. There is a nagging concern that abandoning the confidentiality would hinder adoption, a risk that Illinois can’t afford to take.
Feigenholtz and her allies are valiantly searching for a middle ground–but it is not clear that one exists. Obviously it makes sense to allow exceptions in cases where either the birth parent or the child has a medical reason to seek adoption records.
The legislature also should demand greater efforts to promote the state’s voluntary adoption registry, which allows birth parents and adoptees to sign up and notifies them when a match is made. In the dozen years it has existed, only 28 matches have been made.
The idea of a state-sanctioned intermediary merits some interest, but also some concern. The Illinois Department of Children and Family Services offers something like that now, but only when the person being sought has already placed a notice in the adoption file that they’re willing to be contacted.
Adoption is a fragile, deeply emotional and complex transaction. The state’s overriding interest is to secure a family for every child who lacks one, not to provide an answer for every adult who yearns for one. For now, secrecy seems the wisest way to achieve that interest.
