For N.H. adoptees, a glimpse into the past

For the first time in their lives, about 20 adults in New Hampshire who were adopted as children saw their birth certificates, marking a beginning or in some cases an end to a lifetime journey.

Some of the people who lined up at New Hampshire's Division of Vital Records yesterday came away with a mother's maiden name or other information about a birth parent, such as hometown, birth date, or middle name. Others came in search of a detail that would fill in blanks about their past, but found little information.

Jack Ferns, 58, New Hampshire's director of aeronautics, rail and transit, came seeking information about his birth father, but found nothing. But Ferns, of Loudon, did discover his birth mother's middle name, Mary Ann.

He turned to his uncle, who accompanied him yesterday, and found he was as surprised as Ferns was at the information.

''As an adopted child, you always want to know," Ferns said. ''I'm here for information and to support my sister," who is state Representative Janet Allen, a Barnstead Republican who helped sponsor and pass the new law.

Ferns and Allen, who have different birth parents, were adopted, and they grew up together.

On New Year's Day, New Hampshire became the fifth state to allow adults adopted as children to get copies of their birth certificates, as long as they were born in the Granite State.

Oregon, Alabama, Alaska, and Kansas also allow adult adoptees to view their own birth certificates, a practice long prohibited by state laws designed to protect birth mothers from the stigma of putting their children up for adoption.

The number of adoptees seeking information at the state office in Concord was fewer than what State Registrar William Bolton said he had expected. He attributed the lower number to the presence of reporters and photographers.

''I don't really know how to explain it," Bolton said, adding that he had expected about 50 adoptees to show up to see their birth certificates.

''Most people don't want to show up to bare their private lives in front of everybody and the media," he added.

Under another provision of the law, birth parents can indicate whether they wish to be contacted. Bolton said that only about five people had sent the contact forms to the bureau since the Legislature passed the law.

Birth parents have three options on being contacted: yes, yes with an intermediary, or no.

Bolton said no law prevents adopted adults from finding their birth parents. Of the five birth parents who sent their contact preferences to the state, only one asked not to be contacted.

Karen Amos of Somersworth, N.H. -- who runs a search and support group called ''Circle of Hope" for adoptees, birth parents, and adoptive parents -- said the change will allow thousands of adopted adults find out more about their past.

''I'm hoping to start getting some phone calls," she said, adding that she had three clients in Concord yesterday trying to get their birth certificates.

Adam Pertman, executive director of the Adoption Nation Education Initiative, said the issue of providing adopted adults access to their birth certificates is ''often framed solely as a search issue, and for most people, it isn't."

''Adopted people are not stalkers, and they're not children looking for new mommies and daddies," he added. ''It's the stereotype we have in our heads and not the facts that we have on the ground."

Prohibiting adoptees from having access to their birth records is part of the failed legacy of adoption in the United States, used mostly to protect the privacy of all involved, he said. Some birth certificates for adopted children were stamped with the words ''illegitimate." Others were closed to allow mothers to get on with their lives after giving a child up for adoption.

Today, however, Pertman said roughly 90 percent of all birth mothers eventually want contact with or knowledge about the children they gave up for adoption.

By keeping the birth certificates of adopted adults sealed, Pertman said, ''we're protecting a myth; we're protecting a stereotype that has ceased to exist."