Mat-Su woman sees pro-life blessing in choosing adoption for her son

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Born in 1962, Kris Spencer was soon placed for adoption in California. She knows almost no details of her birth family’s trials that led them to this choice, but she has reason to resist the labeling of being “given up” for adoption. As she described it, she knows herself to be overwhelmingly “wanted” — first by God, second by the mother who gave her life, and finally by a family who raised her and built their family through adoption.

Those experiences strongly impacted her decision when she became unexpectedly pregnant during her teen years in Anchorage. Spencer drew from the blessings she found in being adopted as she made the choice for her unborn child to have two stable parents and a future she could not have provided as an unwed teen.

“I was under a lot of guilt, shame and condemnation, but here was this tiny nun with a Bronx accent, who put me in total control of the situation,” Spencer said of Sister Mary Clare Ciulla, a red-haired dynamo who wore the blue habit of the Presentation Sisters. Sister Ciulla was appointed the first executive director of Catholic Social Services (CSS) in Anchorage. The early agency focused on food and clothing for the poor, and on pregnancy support and adoptions.

UNEXPECTED REUNION

“I was able to choose the adoptive family, and even offered a home if my parents had been unsupportive,” Spencer said of the help she received from CSS.

Spencer grew up in Anchorage and recalls a special school where girls who had, in her words, “opted for the intimacies of marriage without the commitment,” could complete their scholastic work in privacy. Spencer was given general descriptions of waiting families who were eager to adopt her newborn son. She knew only that they were a professional couple unable to have children biologically. Unbeknownst to her, she chose a staff nurse at Providence Hospital who was part of her baby boy’s care team.

Spencer spoke highly of each element of her experience with CSS.

“At least in Alaska, no one has the adoption world as wired as Catholic Social Services,” she said. “They are so knowledgeable, so professional, and just well-versed in adoption law and family possibilities.”

She entrusted the adoption of her baby to CSS in March of 1980: a baby who was named by nurses in the Neonatal ICU, the upcoming feast of Saint Patrick becoming a hinge point for their hopes that he wouldn’t succumb to delivery difficulties: after a loss of oxygen during labor and delivery, mental disabilities were expected with near certainty. Until four years ago, Spencer lived her entire adult life without knowing that outcome. She admits that her mind sometimes ran the gamut: had his care proven too complex, or beyond their scope, and he had been institutionalized?

Today, not only is Patrick free from neurological troubles, he’s a well-adjusted husband and professional working in medical/surgical computer science. In January 2012, Spencer received the call from a private agency which he had hired; within moments of consenting to exchange email addresses, she was reading a letter from her adult son. He spoke of what a special person she was to have given him life — both by allowing her pregnancy to thrive, and with equal generosity, to have given him to a family with the stability and resources she didn’t have. Patrick and his family visited Alaska, and she spent a Christmas with their extended family, all enjoying recreation and mealtimes together, and sharing stories over leisurely mornings in each other’s homes.

In 1980, closed adoptions remained the norm, meaning adoptive parents had full license to reveal or conceal the details of an adoption, in perpetuity. In her case, at age 17, Spencer had written a letter intended for her son, which was given to him upon turning 25 years old. The family had since moved to the southern U.S., endured Hurricane Katrina, lost all of their belongings, and subsequently worried the letter was lost forever — until it turned up in an Anchorage safe deposit box. The adoptive family honored her words, as well as her gift of life. Their high esteem for her role in his life was evidenced by her son’s words in the letter he gave to her. He recalled growing up cherished by parents who were ecstatic to raise him. He was aware of the bleak predictions for his health and felt compelled to let the mother who sacrificed for him know that her baby had grown up strong and good.

ADOPTION IS EASILY DISMISSED

Today, Spencer is reflective about the joyous outcome and eager to make similar opportunities known to women.

“Adoption is a voice that has been drowned out, to some degree,” she said, citing the efforts of abortion lobbies, met by admirably strong support elsewhere for parenting. While pregnancy counselors are ready to empower women with practical, material and spiritual guidance, this can leave adoption too easily dismissed, according to Spencer. She described her hope that girls or women facing pregnancy with limited support might consider making an adoption plan, or at least exploring their negative impressions of the practice.

“Think how often a woman says to herself, or in response to others (regarding adoption), ‘I could never do that’, but abortion has been packaged and sold as merciful?” she observed.

Spencer posits that the pro-life movement may find untapped success in stronger advocacy for adoption. For her, being adopted as an infant meant avoiding the chaos or trauma of multiple placements or interruption in bonding. After more than a decade of working in prison ministry, she’s familiar with the devastation of incarcerated mothers who often succumb to chronic addiction and dysfunction, despite their hopes of harmonious parenthood — leaving generations of children in their wake. Spencer is careful to express her support for all resources extended to populations at risk, but hopes to augment them by sharing the benefits of choosing adoption.

When speaking to pregnant women now, she’s able to seamlessly put herself in their place psychologically.

“We live in the moment, as young women,” she noted. “But if I can encourage a girl to consider the long view, really take the long view, this can turn out so well for everyone, with some consideration.”

A SELFLESS CHOICE

Spencer was raised in the Lutheran faith, and her son was raised Catholic. Having been adopted, she didn’t doubt the benefits of a loving mother and father, but did feel cultural pressures to create stability that was beyond her reach as a teenager. She remembers working through the perceived abdication of responsibility, as if the honorable default was to parent. She was aware of abortion and had a childhood friend whose mother was a public health nurse, but Spencer quietly delayed answering their offer of assisting her to schedule an abortion. She said she hopes to assure birth parents that they are indeed loving their children well by making an adoption plan.

Now middle age, Spencer more fully appreciates the legacy of selflessness intertwined in her story. Her own adoptive parents suggested that she choose adoption for her child, foregoing the continuity of knowing their first grandchild. They coordinated the help of Sister Clare and Catholic Social Services. Nearly 40 years later, Patrick and his adoptive parents sought out Sister Clare in retirement in order to thank her for her vitality and insistence upon offering the choice of adoption to the young Spencer. Spencer speaks of Sister Clare’s fortitude and compassion as healing and uplifting, at the moment they were spoken and through the years.

RETURNING THE FAVOR

She now, in turn, offers her listening ear and her experience. Spencer calls open adoption, where birth families welcome varying degrees of contact, a purposeful response to the misinformation and fears of the past, and has been contacted via text messaging and phone, with requests for information and in some cases, reassurance that adoption is a loving choice that prioritizes a baby’s needs over mothers’ desires. She said she’s available to anyone: professional, clergy or one-to-one.

After being reunited with her grown son in 2012, she sparkles with the pride of any mother when describing his accomplishments. She shares stories of his early childhood, adolescence and various college degrees, all stories relayed to her through visits on the phone and in person. Far from being deprived the impact of motherhood, Spencer feels blessed in trusting God’s providence, setting aside her own preferences for the sake of her child.

For those wishing to learn more about Spencer’s adoption experiences and the personal dynamics involved with choosing adoption for their child, she can be contacted at (907) 745-1659.

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