Most of us prefer to think of our relationships, whether with family or friends, as permanent, although perhaps changing in nature or intensity over time. The truth is, some relationships are quite temporary, such as fellow members of a tour group, a class, or an organization, even a church. Some of these relationships will evolve into something long-lasting, as people find they have more in common than the immediate situation. Think about high-school friendships, college roommates or romances. We may be either disappointed or relieved when a work relationship ends, such as when one retires or leaves a job, or when a neighbor we’ve thought of as a close friend moves away and drops contact with us, or someone leaves a church congregation, for whatever reason, and we lose touch. Some persons are very active in a support group for a time, and then cease attending. We may wonder why we’ve lost touch.

Many of us have also experienced leaving or losing friendships as we grew up, changed schools, graduated, or changed circumstances, such as getting married, having children, or getting divorced or widowed; or when our friends got married and we didn’t. Sometimes these relationships have lasted or evolved, sometimes they have just “petered out” or there may have been overt disagreements and ruptures in relationships. Some of these losses we regret or grieve, even years later, while some relationship endings have been a relief. Some we’ve continued, even though we no longer felt positive about them, and wished they would end, but we have not taken any action toward that end.

When it comes to family relationships, many of us wish for permanent, close relationships of trust and comfort. That may not happen if there has been trauma or betrayal, or if one’s family just seems rather disengaged. We all have some relatives with whom we feel close all our lives, some more or less close for varying lengths of time, and some relatives we don’t really care for—or they don’t care for us—or there is a lack of trust. The relationships evolve or devolve over time. Circumstances may change, our interests and values may change, and we find that particular relationship no longer healthy or interesting. Perhaps an in-law becomes an ex-in-law and contact is awkward or impossible. We may grieve the changes but move on.

Relationships that involve adoption, relinquishment, and search and/or reunion may have elements of all the above-mentioned conditions, plus the added history of loss, hopes, and awkwardness of learning how to relate to someone to whom we may be genetically related but have not been around, or someone to whom we are related legally but not genetically. We do not even have particular term in most languages for “the legal parent of the person to whom I gave birth” or “the genetic parent of the person I legally adopted.” We may see ourselves as “the mother of my relinquished child” or “the mother of the child I raised,” but we don’t have a word or concept for that other mother or father, or for our relationship to that person. Our languages, whether English or otherwise, reflect that void, and do not acknowledge the reality of such a relationship. Similarly, English does not have a term, for instance, for our grown offsprings’ parents-in-law. In Spanish, the term is consuegros, or “co-in-laws.” We tend to have trouble with the “co-” relationships, even though we may have the same grandchildren. Once, when I mentioned we were going on a trip with my daughter-in-law’s parents, a friend said, “Why on earth would you do that? They’re her parents!” I replied that we had become friends and that my son, daughter-in-law, and the grandchildren we shared gave us much in common. We did not see ourselves as competitors.

The same dynamics may be true of birth parents and adoptive parents, with the relinquished/adopted son or daughter in the middle, either benefitting from positive relationships or feeling torn by competitive relationships, or nonexistent ones. This may be true whether the adoption was at birth or later, or whether it was “closed” or “open” or somewhere in between. Ideally, in a truly open adoption, where there are no secrets, or issues can be discussed and negotiated; the relationships will remain healthy, to everyone’s benefit. In reality, some adoptions that were supposed to be open become closed, either because a birth parent stops communicating, unable to handle the stress of continued contact with no real influence, or, more often, the adoptive family breaks off most or all contact. In same cases, the adoptive parents never really intended to maintain an open adoption and promptly moved to another state where it could not be enforced. In New Mexico, open-adoption arrangements are legally enforceable for both relinquishing parents and adopting parents, but not in Utah, just one state away. Many adoptions are “semi-open,” meaning the parents exchanged names, perhaps only first names, met once or more, but contact is through the adoption agency. This is actually “mostly closed,” not really open at all.

In cases where persons were adopted in the past, in closed adoptions, and either the adopted person, now adult, or the birth parent(s), or possibly the adoptive parents, have searched and made contact, the results could be contact by telephone, online, by letter, or in person, or the searched-for person could refuse contact. Although more adoptees search than do birth parents, that is largely because birth parents have been told they have no legal or moral right to search, and they may have been told never to tell anyone, to keep it a secret forever, so that, when contacted, they don’t know what to do, have never dealt with the trauma of losing their child, and are fearful of anyone finding out their secret, even 50 or more years later. Many adoptees do not search because they’ve been told (or got the message from society in general) that they were not wanted, that their birth mother was a terrible person, and that the adoptive parents rescued them, and they must be forever grateful and indebted, and that to search, or even thinking about it, is disloyal and would destroy the adoptive parents, who are to be considered saints, and very fragile, unable to handle the thought of birth parents’ existence, let alone contact with them.

Of course, in many cases, adoptees do search, as do birth parents, contact is made and relationships develop. They may proceed slowly and hesitantly, or rapidly and happily, or with starts and stops. Later on, one or more persons involved may back off, or the relationships change, become less intense, or deeper, or the relationships may deteriorate, or there is a complete cut-off. No matter who searched, the adopted person is more apt to cut off communication or become less involved in ongoing contact. Perhaps it is pressure from adoptive family, perhaps it is because the adopted person is disappointed that the birth parent is not perfect, or because they feel they have a “choice” between families and play one against the other. A very few times, a birth parent has come to our group saying they don’t want a further relationship, either because they still haven’t told their other offspring or spouse, or they don’t know how to handle intense feelings on their or the adoptee’s part, or, in one case, the birth mother said, “He just doesn’t have the same ambitions and values as my other children and I don’t want to invest my time with him.” She seemed to be wanting the group to agree with her decision, but no one did.

It is not only in adoption situations that relationships falter, either. When there has been a divorce, a parent may just cut off communication, or at least stop frequent contact, or an adult offspring may do so. This sometimes happens when there has been no divorce, and the parents have had a solid marriage and raised all their offspring the best they could. There are parents who disown offspring, and grown children who disown parents or refuse to let them have contact with grandchildren. There are also close \friendships that deteriorate or cease to exist, sometimes with reason and sometimes for no reason the other person knows.

One of our out-of-state members wrote to us asking, “How does one know when a relationship has run its course, or when to reach out one last time?” There may not be a satisfactory answer. It is painful when someone breaks off a relationship, especially when there seems not to be any means of further communication, nor any way of resolving the issues, or maybe no way of finding out what the perceived issues are. There is just a void. It is tempting to try to involve third parties, such as another offspring, sibling, or friend, in trying to resume contact, but that is usually not successful and may result in more problems. Many people have these painful situations, and no one has come up with good solutions that fit all circumstances. Sharing with trusted others may be the best way to live with the situation, because there is no magic answer. One cannot make someone else think or feel differently than they do. In some cases, it may be prudent to update a will, or to seek professional help to take care of one’s own emotional well being. Sometimes knowing that others have similar situations alleviates self-recrimination or wrong-headed attempts at reconciliation.

In this writer’s own situation, there has been a complete cut-off from a previously very cordial reunion relationship of over 20 years with my first son, for no apparent reason, never a cross word. He and his wife have not communicated with me in over five years. We have also had a complete cut-off on the parts of my husband’s son and his wife, and, consequently, from their three little girls. They have also cut off communication with his sister and their mother, on the basis that he claims to have had a bad childhood. Never mind that his sister had basically the same childhood! There is a saying in Twelve Step programs for dealing with a problem one cannot solve: “Put it on the shelf, awaiting further enlightenment.” That seems to be the best answer for now, frustrating as it may be. Reaching out for more unanswered calls, e-mails and texts, or more “Return to Sender” refusals of letters, only reinforces everyone’s pain and bewilderment.

On the other hand, reaching out has resulted in a wonderful, close relationship with my stepdaughter from my first marriage. After last seeing her in 1971, when she was 14, I received a phone call from her in 1982, asking how to contact her father (he and I were in a protracted divorce and he had moved to California). We wrote a couple of times and I had second-hand word of her occasionally through one of my sons, but no personal contact. Then, when their father died in 2017, she asked, through my sons, if I had any photos or other mementos. I was happy to supply quite a few photos and his high school yearbooks. She wrote to me, thanking me and also saying that she and her (full) brother had agreed that the summers spent with their father and me were the “happiest and most secure times” of their entire lives, and thanking me for all I did for them. I was moved beyond words. Since then, we visit on the telephone fairly often, and my current husband and I have visited her and her husband in their home several times.

Her family reunions include us and she and I have shared our memories, our thoughts and feelings at a deep level. Being open to reconciliation has allowed us to develop a relationship we never even dreamed we could have.