Exploitation and Adoption in Japan

Still from the Documentary Shared Below

Some time ago, when researching how young adults cope with life after institutionalisation, I watched an interview with a woman who had become a prostitute after leaving the orphanage and struggling to live alone. "I enjoy feeling like someone wants to be together with me," she said, "even if it's just clients."* it affected me greatly and I still haven't written up the post I'd planned, several years on. I'm writing about the young woman now because I recently watched another video that reminded me of her comment. I'm sharing it below, but it's only available in Japanese:

The documentary above features a 23 year old woman named Chihiro who is facing an unwanted pregnancy resulting from "dangerous" work she is required to do in the brothel where she is, in effect, an indentured labourer. Like many young women, she became caught up in a situation where she was told she had a large debt that she could only afford to pay off by working in the associated brothel. By the time she realised she was pregnant the possibility of an abortion had passed. Unable to end the pregnancy but also unable to work, she relies on Baby Pocket, an NPO that provides housing and food for women who agree to have their babies adopted through the organisation. Raised by a single mother, who worked "without a break" to support three children, Chihiro always looked after her little sister and they would think of excuses to visit the supermarket where their mother worked and cue at her register just to get the chance to see her. With a debt of 20,000,000 yen waiting for her, all Chihiro wants to do is have the baby quickly and get back to work. She thinks she'll be able to work again within "two months" of an unmedicated vaginal birth.

We're getting to the part of the documentary I found really traumatic, just so you are warned. Following the birth of her son, Chihiro is not permitted to hold him. She is briefly allowed to see him through the glass window on the nursery before being wheeled away. The agency staff member is coming the other way with a camera to record the baby for his adoption profile and quickly ducks into a doorway to hide as the documentary follows Chihiro's disappearing figure. Baby Pocket say it is "too hard" for mothers to bond with their babies before giving them up for adoption. They, of course, get to decide because these women are utterly powerless and alone. Mothers are allowed to hold their babies once, AFTER signing the adoption paperwork. From about 33 minutes into the video it's just awful. I don't know what the exact details of the agreement are but Hayes and Habu's Adoption in Japan: Comparing Policies for Children in Need similar arrangements with an unnamed agency are described. The agency in the book uses the housing and food provided during pregnancy as a tool to enforce the surrender of babies, insisting on an instant repayment of all the provided costs if the mother changes her mind. For a woman like Chihiro, already burdened with a massive debt and no access to legal help (both this insistence on immediate repayment and the debt that landed her in the brothel in the first place are almost certainly illegal), this would probably seem insurmountable. Please let me say again, I do not know what Baby Pocket's policy is regarding mothers who want to keep their babies.

Unable to nurse, cuddle or interact at all with her son during her hospital stay (usually a week in Japan), Chihiro talks to him through the glass at night when no one else is around. She apologises to him because all the other babies are with their mothers and only he remains in the nursery alone. When the paper work is signed and she gets to hold him he settles into sleep immediately and smiles. Chihiro breaks down. It took me three views to get through because I couldn't keep watching and I'm crying now having to think about it. She holds him until she has to let him go. This woman's body has been used by others for her entire adult life. Her baby was the result of her use by others, and then his existence too became a way of using her. Although technically adoption for profit is illegal in Japan, there are plenty of loop holes including NPOs "hiring" child care companies to look after babies between their birth and adoption. Money paid to these companies (registered to the same address and with the same director as the NPO) is then outside of the financial regulations the NPO faces and the cost can be passed to the adoptive parents with a profit resulting for the agency (I mean, ahem, the TOTALLY UNRELATED COMPANY). You can read more about dubious adoption agency practices by clicking here.

Chihiro says at the end of the documentary that she wants to quit working as a prostitute. "It'll be painful," she says, "but nothing could be more painful than this." Realistically, with no support or back up, will she be able to escape? I'm hopeful but not optimistic.

The Yomiuri Shimbun did some reporting about agencies using adoption to turn a profit and the response from international adoptive parents was disappointing to say the least. Unsurprisingly, the most "profitable" agency is one which sends babies to North America. The routine institutionalisation of children in Japan is unacceptable and adoption is part of the solution, but it is a very small part and must never, ever be at the expense of vulnerable women who are given no advice about other options. 

*I can't remember where I saw the interview, unfortunately I just closed the window in a mood of horror without recording the location. If anyone is familiar with the interview I would like to be able to properly link to it, so please let me know.

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Breastfeeding in Japan (the Bad)

Have boobs, have baby... NOW WHAT?!

"Are you breast feeding?" is one of the first questions I am always asked, following "how old" and either before or immediately after "boy or girl". What depresses me is been the number of women who have then continued on to say "it's best, but sadly I couldn't make enough milk." Being actually unable to produce enough milk is incredibly rare and usually linked to a medical condition, but after my experiences with medical authority figures it makes depressing sense that so many women think they couldn't. I'm actually surprised that anyone manages to successfully feed given the awful advice and out-right sabotage.

Having established breast feeding, everything has been great. Getting established, however, was a nightmare. I had very poor support during the hospital stay, and having spoken to a number of other women I think my experience was pretty normal. Here's what the nurse-midwives instructed the new mothers in the clinic where I gave birth:

1. At first, feed for only 5 minutes per breast then supplement with formula until the baby has consumed a set amount (about 60 ml per feed). Feeding longer will cause cracked nipples, and if that happens you will have to stop feeding completely until they heal.
2. Weight baby before and after each feed and supplement with formula to make up the proscribed weight.
3. Feed when the baby cries.

This is exactly the advice I would give if I wanted someone to fail to establish a breast feeding relationship and to ensure they did not produce enough milk. Seriously, I can't think of anything else to add if your objective was to ruin all chances of someone breast feeding.Not a single bit of advice on that list is correct, NOT ONE THING. Furthermore, the most important thing that new mums really do need help with, getting a good latch and position, there was no help offered for. I struggled for a month with latching problems that any nurse-midwife worth her salt should have spotted immediately, then when Cricket hadn't gained "enough" weight at his one month check the pediatrician told me to start giving formula with no attempt to help me breastfeed better, and followed this recommendation up by sending a representative from the formula company who sponsor both the pediatrician and maternity clinic to lecture me while we were trapped waiting for the checkup to finish. Yes, sponsor. Did I forget to mention that? When I was very clear that I wasn't going to give him formula she then tried to tell me I should give him barley tea! A one month old baby who is gaining weight slowly. Tea. I kid you not. Thankfully I got help from a lactation consultant who does skype appointments (thank you Blue Sky!), and she spotted the latch problem right away and within three days Cricket was gaining weight at such a rate that the pediatrician (who insisted I go back the following week to make sure I wasn't killing the baby with my crazy tea-refusing ways) said with a big smile "so, you started using formula then?"

It all ended happily here, but I'm furious everytime I think about all the women who want to breast feed, and carefully follow the advice of the people they trust to tell them how they should do it, and then feel that they have failed because they aren't producing enough milk.

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Introducing Cricket

OK, so, I don't want to post identifiable pictures of the kids on the blog. However, since I figure all newborns more closely resemble potatoes than their adult selves, I am classifying this one as non-identifiable. This is Cricket at about 12 hours old.

Welcome to the world
My chirpy little cricket
Buds become blossoms

Many thanks to Helen of Inn by the Sea for giving me a kick back into blogging with the "five days challenge". The idea is to post five photos, one per day for five days, and to write a story or poem to go with each photo. For each day that we post we are supposed to invite one person to participate.

I'm inviting George and Erika of Japan, Home Sweet Home. George and Erika, if you would like to participate, post a photo every day for five days and write a story to go along with each photo. Your story can be fiction or non-fiction. It can be a short paragraph, a page, or a poem. Each day, please select one person to carry on the challenge. It's just for fun, there's no pressure to join in ;)

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The End of Further Adoption Aspirations (For Now, At Least)

So this happened.

Hello people of the internet, I have a confession to make. It turns out that no matter how difficult it may be to secure condoms, making your stash last longer by assuming some days are "safe" is, in fact, unsafe, irrespective of smart phone apps and scrupulous charting.  In other words, I am pregnant.

Although we never wanted Tiger to be an only child, this isn't exactly what we had in mind. Although it does not necessarily disqualify us from ever adopting again, it will make it a lot harder and restrict our options. Many agencies and some CGCs will not accept applications from couples with biological children at all. Others require that biological children be a minimum age before they will accept applications. On top of all that, what modest savings we did have in the bank ear-marked towards further familial expansion are now having to be redirected to the insanely expensive business of preparing for a newborn. Even though everything it is safe to do so is being purchased second hand and plans to cloth diaper and breastfeed should cut down on costs, honestly, it's still a struggle. Especially factoring in my lost income.

It's going to be a long time before we can look at adopting again, and that means Tiger won't have a sibling near his age for some of the years when it is most fun to have a partner in crime. He's thrilled to bits at the idea of being a big brother, but I've been feeling an extraordinary amount of guilt. There are three orphanages within short driving distance of our home. It's entirely irrational to think about it in these terms because I know few of the children are available for adoption and furthermore our local CGC has remained adamant that they want us to proceed through ISSJ for future adoptions because they aren't confident in handling the international aspects themselves, and we couldn't have afforded that immediately even without the baby~ in other words, there was no imminent prospect of adoption anyway. But still. We can afford financially and emotionally to raise a limited number of children, and creating one who didn't previously exist reduces by one the number of already existing and waiting children who we can parent. Please understand that I am talking about how I feel here and what our plans were as parents, not in any way criticising others' choices or attitudes. Adoption is a complex issue and I certainly don't see it as some sort of overarching moral imperative, but for us, in our situation, we felt that parenting by adoption was the ethical choice and I rarely fail to live up to a decision I make on ethical grounds.

This is my mea culpa.

Now it's done, the next post will be a funny story about my dogs, promise!

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The Chair of Gynecological Doom

I recently had my first ever visit to a Japanese OBGYN, and I found the experience of THE CHAIR* so weird that I wanted to share the story here. Be warned, however, that this post contains words describing "lady bits". If that makes you feel all funny, you should probably stop reading now and never again click on a link that has "gynecological doom" in the title. Pro tip.

So, I needed an ultrasound and I was aware that they are usually done trans-vaginally in Japan, so I was a little psyched out but (I thought) prepared. I was ushered from the general waiting room into the more private inside waiting room, which had pink squishy walls to, I assume, get us feeling all pink-squishy-ready. From time to time a nurse escorted a man through (I assume an expectant father come to see a grainy image of his off-spring), but only after announcing loudly "a MAN is entering the area". I guess the manly presence might ruin all the pink squishy psychological preparation. My turn came and I was told to enter the "internal examination room" and lock the door behind me. It was a small cubical with walls on three sides but instead of a back wall facing the wall with the door, there was a ruched pink curtain. THE CHAIR was facing the door, and I wondered how an examination was going to work in such a tight space. I stripped off my lower half, sat on THE CHAIR and draped a beach towel over my knees. So far, so good. Then THE CHAIR started talking to me in that soothing voice elevators have. "The chair is about to move. Please keep your legs and arms inside the chair and do not try to stand up" she said. The chair swung up into the air then pivoted to face the curtain. "The bottom is about to retract" she said, and the part of the chair I was sitting on dropped away leaving my bum suddenly exposed. THE CHAIR then spread my legs open and, bum hanging free and legs akimbo, propelled me towards and through the pink curtain, up to my waist. Sadly there was no music, but in my head the sound track was something like this:

A nurse on the other side of the curtain asked me to confirm my identity, at which point the complete ridiculousness of the situation overcame me and I burst out laughing. The doctor asked if I would prefer to have the curtain open, to which I responded "yes please", much to the consternation of the nurse who seemed decidedly uncomfortable about putting face-to-vulva as it were. "Foreigners always want to curtain open" the doctor told her, and she shook her head at our foreign strangeness. Behind the curtain was a small office space with some other nurses bustling about doing various things, but perhaps the oddest thing was that the doctor was sitting on a wheeled chair. After a very quick in-out examination he pulled his gloves off and rolled sideways. As the nurse was cleaning me up I heard the doctor already talking to the woman in the next cubical: "This is your baby's head, here's the heart..." and I realised that there may be a whole row of disembodied genitals on bumless chairs poking through ruched pink curtains, waiting for the doctor to roll from one to another. I began to laugh again, as THE CHAIR informed me that we were about to begin moving again. When I got home and told the man person about what had happened he added: "imagine the lab where they design those chairs? Do you think they take turns test-riding them?"

*I think these chairs or similar are used in lots of places (although probably not in conjunction with curtains and voice-overs), but I'd never encountered one in Australia so the whole thing was distinctly strange to me.

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