Should you keep your adopted child's birth family tree?

No

1 of 2

by Lisa H Warren

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Today science is discovering a "watering down" that occurs in DNA over only a generation or two, so when it comes to DNA the only DNA that really matters very much is the DNA of the biological parents. Even with that, it is now also known that genes account for far less of what a person is than nurturing, lifestyle, and environment do.

When I adopted my infant son decades ago I had thought out parenting issues and the kind of parent I planned to be. I had studied up on child development, sorted out the kind of child I hoped to nurture, and believed that a certain type of nurturing would produce a certain type of child. It was only recently that I read how nurturing can alter brain development (brain connections), which can affect a child's immune system and stress response for the rest of his life. The wrong nurturing can cause brain cells to die, along with the potential they had had for developing.

I probably didn't need to read this scientific explanation of how brain development can be affected by nurturing because my son, who was an only child for five years before his brother was born, was exactly the kind of child I had hoped to "build". Because I was happy with the results of my efforts, when I had my second son I did the same things I had done with my first. Although each child, of course, had his individuality, the two little boys in my "set of two sons" were very similar in disposition and behavior.

When my daughter was born three years after my youngest son my plan was to be the same kind of parent to her. I had thought out how I would approach gender differences (because I had never had a girl before). I realized that my aim was to "raise a human first and let gender take care of itself later". My daughter, like her brothers, was the same kind of child. All three children were really reasonable, well behaved, kind, curious, little kids who seemed to love the world and the people in it. All three children were raised by a mother who had Irish and Scottish ancestry (to whatever extent that had any indirect impact on my own personality and thinking. All three children had a professional father with a little Italian, a little German, and a little British ancestry. All three children were clearly "melting-pot babies". What could be more American than being a melting-pot baby?" My adopted son did, however, had one extra nationality in his background, but since I wasn't one to put my weight to any of the nationalities of anyone's ancestry I didn't bring up his "extra" one.

I raised my children with the values and culture of my parents, which happened to be similar to the values of their paternal grandparents as well - American values, American culture. My children grew up hearing about their World War II Veteran grandfather, how their grandmother lost a first husband in the war, and my own stories about my childhood with their aunt and uncle. To whatever extent my American parents had impact on my own values and lifestyle, those values and lifestyle were something I passed along to my children. All three children had a strong sense of the culture in which they had been raised, which was essentially the result of the culture in which their father and I had been raised.

For my oldest son, of course, there was the biological parents, their culture, and their ancestors. The biological parents came from a culture where several children of the same mother have different fathers. It was a culture where poverty, ignorance, and violence are more common than those things are in middle-class America. My son had been neglected and had a skull fracture in early infancy. That could have been a matter of someone's losing a temper or of leaving the newborn with the wrong person - I don't know. It was, though, a culture from which my son was rescued by Social Services. It was a culture with which Social Services is extremely familiar. My son was born to a biological mother and to a culture that did nothing to treasure, protect, and love this innocent newborn who had no choice about his biological beginnings. My son was born to a biological mother and a culture where the people who try to protect innocent babies are enemies and where the littlest of tots are left to fend for themselves against negligent, violent, parents and the world in general.

When I brought the little stranger into my family I knew that I would be someone who broke the link in that chain of neglect, abuse, ignorance, and violence. This child would be raised in a culture of love and a culture of values, where children are protected and treasured the way children ought to be. He, like his siblings, would know what Memorial Day and Independence Day meant to his parents and grandparents. He would have his father's last name, my father's middle name, and a shortened version of the name his biological mother gave him (because in spite of my contempt for her behavior I still respected her as a human and as the person who brought him into the world). He would grow up celebrating the holidays of the family that was his, eating the food of whatever watered down culture his parents had, and knowing the ancestry that indirectly led to the person he would become.

When I became his mother I didn't just offer a couple of decades of emotional support, guidance, and a roof over his head. I gave him my life, my past, my future, and my family. For good or ill, he is what he is because of the life and roots I gave him. I don't mean to seem arrogant over what I gave this child who brought me so much joy, but - I'm sorry - I wouldn't have had all that I had to give him if it weren't for my own upbringing, culture, and family. For good or ill, I gave him everything that I had to give; and he is what he is because of that.

If I were to give my son his ancestral tree he would be a branch attached firmly next to the branches of his brother and his sister and two branches down from my parents. It is his right to investigate his genetic ancestry if he ever becomes so inclined, but there are a whole lot of branches on that particular tree that weren't there to keep him from falling off that tree and ending up with a skull fracture that would result in my bringing him back to the doctor for follow-ups for a solid year.

I will not, however, be giving my son a copy of a meaningless ancestral tree.

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