Birth Father Rights

When we talk, write, or think about “expectant parents”, really, we mean “expectant mothers”. I mean, there’s a reason the industry term for a letter to people thinking about placing their children is the “Dear Birthmother Letter”. In many cases, we only think about the birth father when we ask two questions: Is the birth father aware of the child? Will the birth father sign the termination of parental rights?

Anecdotally, at least, most birth fathers seem to walk away from the process. They provide half of the genetic material for the child in question, but don’t seem to have a stake in or feelings for the child’s future. Adoptive parents are concerned that the birth father could make their adoptions difficult, mostly by not signing the TPR out of spite. Occasionally, adoptive parents will worry about the volatility of a birth father. Sometimes, this reaction is warranted. Sometimes, it’s a reaction to our worst fears rather than to reality.

My son’s birth father is the stereotypical birth father. That is, he wasn’t with S during her pregnancy, didn’t particularly care one way or the other about the adoption, and had no desire to be a part of the process. Every so often, I want to have a picture of him. I think about the possibility of contacting him, via our attorney, to try and get medical information. However, it wasn’t until I read something Jenna wrote on her personal blog that I gave the birth father perspective any thought. Recently, there has been a wave of somewhat anti-birth father sentiments on my online transracial adoption group. I put that together with my thoughts on Jenna’s comments to create this post.

I am the mother of a son. Chances are good that he’ll have sex with one or more women during the course of his life. He could, at some point, impregnate a woman. What if he does so while he’s not married or in a committed relationship? Well, then, the birth father perspective matters more, because I have a personal stake in it.

In some states, a birth father doesn’t have to be told of a pregnancy that could be partially his responsibility. Expectant mothers can also conceal the identity of the biological father. If he is not married to the woman at the time of conception, pregnancy, or birth, a biological father doesn’t have a lot of rights. (For more information, see http://library.adoption.com/articles/birth-father-rights.html.)

If a birth father has not done anything to become a presumed father, he is a Putative Father. This means he has no right to be informed of the pregnancy or adoption plan unless he takes specific action to obtain rights.

So, my son has no right to know that someone, somewhere might be carrying his child. That just doesn’t sit right with me. Sure, many states have Putative Father Registries. If a man believes that he may have impregnated someone, he can register with the state. Then, if the woman makes an adoption plan, he has the right to be notified. Essentially, this seems to mean that if a man has sex with someone, he can register that fact with the state. At the very least, that’s incredibly embarrassing.

I know that there are men who are abusive, who would exact revenge on women if they knew of any pregnancies. I know that children are conceived through rape, and, frankly, I don’t believe that rapists should have the same rights as those who follow the law. But I think that cutting a man out of an adoption plan entirely is a disservice to him, his family, and his child. It simply doesn’t seem just to me that a man can be completely excluded from making decisions about his child. Sure, many men may simply choose to walk away anyway. But that’s the point – they get the choice.

I think about what might happen when my son goes away to college. Maybe he’s not as prudent (or prudish, depending on your point of view) as his father and I were. Maybe he goes to a frat party and has a one night stand, and maybe that results in conception. The girl involved doesn’t even have to tell him. He could have a child, and I a grandchild, and never know. The child would grow up knowing nothing about his biological father. He wouldn’t know, for example, that there’s a history of poor eyesight and diabetes. He wouldn’t know how musical and bright his biological father was. His child’s parents would likely believe that my son walked away, didn’t want anything to do with the child, and would have to figure out how to explain that to their child. When, in truth, I hope my son would be the type of man who would want to be involved.

The feminist in me balks at the idea of a woman having to tell a man anything. But the mother in me, and the judge in me, realizes that the issue is far more complex than that of permission. Before adoptive parents are so quick to dismiss the birth father, perhaps they might think of what they would want, if he were their son.

Photo Credit.

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