I came across this story this morning. A man who was adopted found his birth father. Instead of the touching reunion many adopted children envision, this man found that his biological father was a convicted murderer on Ohio’s Death Row.

The son, Sean Baker, is convinced of this biological father’s innocence, even though the man is believed to have been the leader in a prison riot that ended a correctional officer’s life, not to mention the crime that landed him behind bars in the first place (also a murder).

Whether or not the man is innocent or not, it merits looking at the fantasy our adopted children can build up about less-than-perfect birth parents. All of us, adopted or not, at some point indulge in the fantasy that we were mixed up at birth and our “real” parents are a King and Queen, or some super athlete or celebrity, because the parents we currently have don’t do everything we want, exactly when we want it.

I’m not trying to set up a debate about birth and adoptive parents. Most birth parents do what they do because they want something for their children that they, at that moment in time, are unable to provide and want a better quality of life for their child than they are capable of in that particular circumstance.

Adoptive parents often inherit children that have, or will have, by the virtue of their adopted status, a myriad of life-long issues to work through. Feeling incomplete, maybe not knowing who their birth parents are. Feeling isolated if they don’t “look” like everyone else in the family. If there are medical, mental or behavioral issues due to genetics or substance abuse, or any number of reasons, the obstacles to overcome are that much more profound.

When days are tough, and an adoptive parent has to deal with the nth issue of the day, kids being kids may retreat into that fantasy that they have “better” parents “out there” somewhere. It takes on a deeper meaning than kids who are not adopted, because there really are other parents out there, and that unknown can consume you.

Am I saying, “Hey kids, don’t search for your birth parents?” No, I’m not. I’m trying to address when the fantasy meets the reality. When an adopted person finally gets to have some of those life-long questions answered by meeting their birth parent and seeing where the green eyes come from, or the upturned nose, or the ears that wiggle, or the migraines that “run in the family,” they may find that the reality is far different (and less preferable) to the fantasy.

Having grown up in a single parent household, I fell into this “fantasy” trap a lot. It was very difficult to hear the “reality” that my father was addicted to drugs and alcohol.

I don’t know if Mr. Baker’s father is innocent of the crimes he is accused of or not. But, Mr. Baker is on my mind. I hope that he is able to come to a measure of peace about his birth parentage. And, I hope that when my children begin to ask the difficult questions about “why” they were placed for adoption, and the issues their birth parents were facing, they will also find peace and realize that adults make adult choices, and sometimes those choices have nothing to do with the children involved, while others, have everything to do with them.

Photo credit: Stock Xchng