Three Houston Attorneys Reflect on Adoption’s Impact

By DAVID WILSON II

David Wilson - Big Brother to Adopted Brothers and Sisters
As a child, I was raised in a sibling group of seven, four of whom were adopted. As a lawyer, I have served as an attorney ad litem in adoption proceedings, and as counsel for the Department of Protective and Regulatory Services in proceedings to terminate parental rights, which resulted in adoptive placements. While I do not currently practice family law, nor have I adopted children myself, adoption has touched my personal and professional life.
My siblings came to my family in diverse ways. My youngest brother, who is Filipino, was adopted as an infant through the Methodist Mission Home in San Antonio. My other brother, the middle child of the family, was adopted through Hope International Services from Seoul, Korea. He was a four-year-old orphan who was found by Korean authorities as he wandered abandoned through the streets of Seoul. My two youngest sisters, by contrast, were an American sibling pair adopted through Child Protective Services. Although I was always the oldest sibling, I was six years old at the time of the first adoption and 19 years old when my youngest sisters were adopted.
One crucial personal impact that my adoptive siblings have had on me is an appreciation for diversity. For example, with a Filipino brother and Korean brother, I became uncomfortable at an early age with ethnic jokes, particularly those focusing on Asian stereotypes. Further, my two youngest sisters were allowed to keep in contact with the remainder of their sibling group of six, who had been raised in a background of extreme poverty. It was eye-opening to see children experiencing for the first time things that I had taken for granted at their age, such as new clothes for school, extracurricular activities and a structured bed time.
As a young assistant district attorney in Angelina County, one of my duties as a prosecutor was to represent the Department of Protective and Regulatory Services (as it was known in those days), in its suits affecting parent/child relationships. While I have tried a variety of cases, civil and criminal, none have been as grueling as those where the Department sought to terminate the rights of parents. The stakes and the emotions are high, and the lawyers appointed to represent indigent parents discharge their duties with the zealous advocacy that professionalism requires. I would elicit hours of testimony regarding drug abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse and shocking neglect. I would cross-examine tearful parents regarding their efforts to end their addictions, reform their behavior, or otherwise “clean up their act.”
One particularly arduous trial involved a mother who had given birth to her child while high on crack cocaine. The mother had a history of drug dealing and drug abuse. An older child had been removed from her and permanently placed with a relative, but this was not an option for the newborn, who had been placed in a loving home with a family that wished to adopt her. During the trial, I met with the potential adoptive father and recognized him as a police officer in a capital murder case I had tried the month before. Ironically, the testimony at that trial had indicated the killer had considered shooting this same officer at the time he apprehended him. It struck me that this man not only risked his life on a daily basis for the good of the public, but also was opening his home to a child in need. The court ruled in favor of the Department at the end of the trial.
A few weeks later, as I walked into court to await a hearing in another case, I saw the new family participate in the final adoption hearing for the little girl. The family was dressed in their Sunday best and the child, a toddler by now, tumbled around the courtroom. I was privileged to take some photos of the caseworkers, the family and the court for posterity. As I saw the joy around me in the same courtroom in which the termination case had proceeded to trial, I was proud of the role I had played as a lawyer for that family.
All young lawyers who confront cynicism in their career choice should have a moment like that upon which to reflect - a moment that reaffirms that we can make a difference in the profession. One could say that my professional experiences with adoption were additional life lessons that the institution of adoption has taught me.

Troy Williams - Lessons Learned from His Adoptive Parents
Certainly, I am not alone as a member of the Houston Bar Association in adoption having impacted my life. Troy Williams, a shareholder with Hays, McConn, Rice & Pickering, was raised as an adopted child. Currently a parent himself, he observes, “I have a keen appreciation for being an involved parent. Have you ever noticed that a couple that has been married for 50 years or so kind of look alike? Regardless of genes, I think adopted children take on the characteristics, mannerisms and appearance of the parents who raise them.” He adds, “On many occasions, people seeing my father and me would say to my father, ‘He looks more like you all the time.’ They obviously didn’t know I was adopted!”
To Williams, the public’s biggest misconception about adoption is the perceived absence of the connection that biology supposedly brings. “While growing up as a child and to this very day, when people find out that I was adopted, an immediate response is generally ‘Don’t you want to know who your “real” parents are?’ Similarly, over the years, many news programs and talk shows have discussed adopted children who were reunited with their ‘real’ mom or dad. In my mind, the subject of who the ‘real’ parents are presents the biggest misconception with adoptions.”
Bringing the point home, he says, “Sure, the man who generated the seed and the lady that carried me for nine months before my birth played a role in my being. More importantly, the lady who gave birth to me but thankfully decided, for whatever reason, to allow me to be adopted into a loving family deserves a huge amount of credit. But my ‘real’ parents are the two people who changed thousands of my dirty diapers and missed countless hours of sleep while trying to rock me back to sleep. My ‘real’ parents are the people who changed my clothes 20 times a day until a doctor finally figured out that I kept throwing up because I was allergic to milk. My ‘real’ mom is the lady who always cooked a wonderful evening supper and the same lady that would toss the baseball with me to get me warmed up for my little league games. My ‘real’ dad is the man who held the back of my bike seat while teaching me how to ride a bike, the man who threw literally thousands of football passes to me in our front yard on Sunday afternoons and the man who would take me on father-son long distance bike rides each Saturday morning. My ‘real’ parents are the two people who required that I go to church on Sundays and Wednesdays and the people who taught me about God. The two people who I refer to as ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ are my ‘real’ parents.”

Jacquie Brennan - Adoptive Mother to Disabled Children
This sentiment is reflected in the experiences of Jacquie Brennan, who currently serves as managing attorney for Advocacy, Inc., the state’s protection and advocacy legal services agency for individuals with disabilities. Brennan is the mother of nine children, five of whom are adopted. Moreover, each of the five adopted members of the sibling group has a different disability. They are Kelsey (18 years old, Angelman Syndrome), Paul (17 years old, Prader-Willi Syndrome), Megan (16 years old, Moebius Syndrome), Brigid (13 years old, Down Syndrome) and Tyler, who had Down Syndrome and died in 1995. She relates the same experience as a parent that Troy Williams experienced as an adopted child: “Because I have children who are adopted and children who are not adopted, the most frequently asked question is ‘Which ones are yours?’ I patiently reply, ‘They’re all mine.’ ‘Yes, of course, but which ones are REALLY yours?’ is the inevitable reply. I swear I have had this identical exchange more than 100 times.”
An additional misconception Brennan has faced is in her feelings about the biological parents of her children. “People almost always assume that I have negative feelings towards the birth parents, when in fact, I have good relationships with all of them.”
Brennan found that parenting children with disabilities resulted in a change in her outlook on parenting itself. “So many of the things I had taken for granted with my other children turned out to be outstanding achievements when accomplished by my adopted babies,” she observes.
In Brennan’s case, adoption has directly changed the course of her career. “For me, adoption changed my life quite literally,” she explains. Her interest in becoming a lawyer was prompted by her advocacy as a parent for her special needs children. Raising children with various disabilities opened her eyes to all kinds of possibilities and people. “In fact,” she adds, “they are the reason I became a lawyer who does disability law exclusively.”
Whether experienced professionally or personally, adoption has a lasting impact on one’s life. Indeed, whether experienced as a parent, sibling or adopted child, adoption changes one’s life. Of course, anyone who is a parent knows that parenthood itself is life altering, and in this respect, adoption is no different than parenting a biological child. Perhaps, however, it is the selfless example of giving that children see in parents who reach out to a child in need of a loving home that has the potential to set adoptive families apart.

David Wilson is a partner in the firm of Hays, McConn, Rice & Pickering, P.C. He is a member of The Houston Lawyer Editorial Board.

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