Obtaining my original birth certificate

Obtaining my original birth certificate was an arduous and emotionally challenging journey. I was reunited with my birthmother in 1999 via the Gladney Center for Adoption’s mutual consent reunion registry, and we continue to negotiate our relationship. We have come a long way, but there is still much room to grow between us. I have since discovered many medical problems in my birth family (Multiple Sclerosis, Lupus, Mitral Valve Syndrome, Endometriosis), of which I probably would not have been notified by the adoption agency. Even though they would have been required by law to tell me, my birth mother never thought to inform them of medical problems later in her life. Closed adoption being the unique animal that it is, correspondence between she and the agency was never something she thought was possible. Besides, the agency never bothered to contact her after the relinquishment papers were signed; that was the way things were done (and continue to be done) in closed adoptions.

This is the process I had to go through because I cannot obtain my original birth certificate in the state of Texas without a court order.

My process actually began in 1998, when I obtained my de-identified record. As an adopted person, upon turning 18, I have a legal right to tour the agency to which I was relinquished, obtain records pertaining to my person which have been “de-identified” (also called ‘the non-id’: all personal information such as dates of birth, names, etc were whited out, then the entire record copied), and I was eligible to register with the agency’s mutual consent reunion registry. This registry, which is run in the same manner as and in conjunction with the Central Adoption Registry (Texas State Registry) is passive, which means that if either party turns out not to be registered, the process stops there. Your registration stays active for 99 years, but no one goes looking for the other party (that would be an active registry). If I had registered and my birth mother’s name had turned up but they found her to be deceased, they would not have given me identifying information. The registry is not advertised, most people do not know it exists, and only adopted people, birth siblings, and birth parents can register. In other words, for these and other reasons, the registry is designed not to work. The CAR only has, on average, 2.8 matches every year. I actually got lucky, given its low performance rate. Once a match is made and before identifying information will be exchanged, (my birthmother was registered), each party must re-approve their registration, and provide proof of one hour of adoption-oriented counseling. There is a fee to obtain the non-id, register, and get counseling, This can get pricey, folks.

In the interim, we exchanged letters through my file at the agency. During this time, the agency opened and read every letter, as we had been strictly instructed not to include any “identifying” information. Occasionally I would find something crossed through. All in the name of “birth parent privacy”.

Even though I knew my birthmother wanted contact (the agency informed me she was registered) and I knew that I wanted contact, search and reunion was an emotional roller coaster. It was my freshman year in college and I was dealing with the “normal” rites of passage associated with that as well. My parents were extremely supportive, but did not understand what I was going through.

I did this the way the system wanted me to do it, not the way most people do it. The majority of adoption searches take place the old fashioned way, by going to the library and looking up birth dates and microfiche and making lots of phone calls and looking at old phone books and high school year books and requesting birth and death and divorce certificates and waiting for years and shouting EUREKA! Demanding our original birth certificates is not about search and reunion, it is a matter of principle.

After being reunited for six years, and explaining to people how to go about having their records opened for five, I decided it was time that I did it myself. I had wanted to do it for years, but never realized how similar to search it was or how much courage, energy, time, endurance, or willpower it took. After all, I was already reunited. How hard could it be?

I’ll tell you. I had heard horror stories about adoptees going to court with their birthmother at their side, and the Judge still said “Sorry, no dice.” In the name of preserving “privacy”, they still didn’t want to open records. You see, we have to show “good cause” in order to get our records open. This usually means we have to be dying. Even then, some adoptees get turned away. Heaven forbid that we should attempt to get a bone marrow transplant from someone in our biological family at the expense of the truth outing itself. Secrecy is toxic; the truth will out one day, whether we’re the ones to do it or not.

Again, I got lucky. I was born in Tarrant County, a county with a reputation for being easy to get records open in. However, I wasn’t lucky enough to be born in Dallas county, where one judge in particular was known to open records regardless of the reason for asking. In his opinion, any reason was “good cause”. Let me ask you this: why is it that just because people who are “lucky enough” to be born in Kansas, or Alaska, or (now) New Hampshire, Tennessee, Oregon, and Alabama can have their original birth certificates, but I can’t? Closer to home, why is it that people who are “lucky enough” to be born in Dallas County can get their records opened for any reason at all, but I have to work for it to show “good cause”?

I was informed by the court clerk that it would help my “cause” to obtain letters of support form my adoptive parents and my birth mother. Two things happened next: I am (sometimes) a by the book person, and buckled down and started gathering my necessary paperwork together. I just thought of this as part of the process. At the same time, I became incredibly angry. Infuriated even. WHY, I kept thinking, should I have to get letters of support? A) I am reunited. B) Don’t I have a right to this information to begin with? Why do I have to keep working for it? Why should I have to ask? Why do I have to beg? Even after the Judge had agreed to open my records, I had to stand in the courtroom and listen to her say, “I see there is no new information here in your record that you do not already know. What exactly is it that you’re looking for?” I remember thinking, What right do YOU have to ask me that? You’ve already agreed to open the record, why don’t you just open it already? What does it matter? It’s mine. What does it matter what I’m looking for? Why are you even wasting both of our time by asking?

Even after all of this, I had to wait about 4 months for the court order to be processed by Vital Statistics and have my original birth certificate sent to me. If I had walked in off of the street it would have taken an hour to obtain. If I had mailed in a regular request for a ‘regular’ birth certificate, it would not have taken 4 months.

“Rather than being based on a numerical or percentage figure, a minority is defined as a group of people who are singled out for unequal treatment, and who regard themselves as objects of discrimination (an act of unfair treatment directed against a group or individual based on characteristics such as race, ethnicity, age, gender, income, marital status, sexual orientation, disability, religion, or politics) which excludes them from full participation in the life of their society. Membership in a minority is referred to as being an ascribed status; it is not voluntary, but comes through birth.”
Wirth, Louise. 1945. “The problem of minority groups.” The science of man in the world crisis. Linton, R. ed. New York: Columbia University Press.

It was certainly not a fun experience, but it was MY experience to have. I still get angry when people ask me if I have found my “real” Mom, (she raised me, and what business is it of yours to ask?) but this was not about search. Open records is not about search and reunion, it is about civil rights. I finally have it. And I plan to frame it alongside the pictures of me standing outside the Tarrant County Courthouse holding my records in the air.