Tianna Mañón

ROC

Kathy Fuierer of Brockport lacks a privilege most New Yorkers don't think twice about: She can't see her original birth certificate.

Fuierer was adopted, and in New York state, original birth certificates are sealed by the court system when an adoption is finalized. Because of this, Fuierer didn't know her medical history — and this proved dangerous when her daughter faced a health risk at age 8.

"It was scary," she said. "I didn't know what was going on, and we just had to wait for answers."

For the 21st year in a row, the New York State Legislature did not pass the Adoption Rights Bill, a bill that would allow all adoptees 18 and older access to their birth certificates.

Currently, adoptees are the only people who cannot access their own birth certificates, and many believe this is a human rights violation.

Like Fuierer's daughter, thousands of adoptees and their children may face unknown health risks. Many adoptees are also likely to question their identity.

And most say that both questions can be solved with a single sheet of paper: their original birth certificate.

An amended birth certificate is given instead. The adoptive parents' names replace the birth parents' names, and if the child's name is changed, the new certificate reflects this. In some cases, the location of birth is altered as well.

"Those who preach family values should advocate to reform this law," said Steve Barnhoorn, a councilman on the Richmond Town Board in Ontario County. He successfully reunited his mother and uncle, who were adopted to different families, using public records.

While the original birth certificate provides little information, it allows adoptees a first step to reach out to their birth parents to learn their health history.

"We can't know our birth parents, so therefore we don't know our ancestry," said Jeff Hancock, president of the Adoptee Rights Coalition. "We don't know our medical history. We're not allowed to know what faith we are. You're not allowed to know anything. You just have to become this adopted person — this new child for your new family."

Additionally, an amendment was proposed at the last minute requiring birth parents to consent to their information being disclosed to the adoptee. If they declined, and chose anonymity, the certificate would still be given, but with the birth parents' names redacted. It was proposed to protect the identity of birth parents.

Critics are calling it a "mother, may I?" bill.

"We had opposition from all corners," said the bill's sponsor, Assemblyman Bill Weprin, D-Queens.

He said he'd hoped the compromise would help the bill pass. From there, he would have continued to advocate for more access.

This middle-of-the-road approach isn't appreciated by all, however.

"It's mine and I'm entitled to it," Fuierer said. "I want to see the real document."

She added that the idea that she should need permission is ridiculous, a sentiment echoed by many in the advocacy community.

But those against the bill argue that a promise was made to birth mothers for anonymity.

"I don't think open records are fair, but I don't think closed records are fair, either," said former National Council for Adoption president Thomas Atwood. "What we oppose is the law empowering one party to adoption to force himself or herself on another."

Judge John Czygier agrees. He has worked in adoption law for about 38 years, 13 as a judge in Surrogate Court in Suffolk County and 25 as a lawyer.

Czygier testified in a hearing for the New York State Legislature's Health Committee in January against the bill, arguing that it prioritizes adoptees over birth mothers.

"I think you're overlooking the right of the woman who made a decision to give up her child with the promise of confidentiality," he testified, adding that breaking this promise in the name of health is incorrect.

Currently, no New York state laws explicitly promise anonymity to birth mothers, but many lawyers argue that birth mothers are promised it by individuals and organizations when surrendering a child and this should be upheld.

"You're cloaking this as a medical rights bill. It's not a medical rights bill," Czygier testified. "We all know that the birth certificate doesn't contain any information concerning medical history for the most part, but what it does provide are the names of those people who with the promise of confidentiality gave up that child for adoption."

New York became a "closed state" in 1935 when then-Gov. Herbert H. Lehman signed into law a measure that sealed adoption records to everyone. The law was passed during a social climate that frowned on unwed mothers and subsequent adoptions.

"The state is playing a role in keeping secrets, and I don't think it has a right to do so," said Barnhoorn.

Currently, adoptees rely on private investigators, search angels —someone who looks through public records to find a birth parent for free — and, increasingly, social media.

New York state also provides a registry, but it is dependent on the birth mother supplying information and is therefore only as complete and recent as the information she provides.

Weprin said he will try again for the legislation if he is re-elected, but will return to a total access bill. If it is unpopular again, he will push for a compromise earlier to ensure passage and write it with the adopted community to increase its support.

Fuierer said it's about time the bill is passed. Even with the consent of her mother, she cannot get her original birth certificate because of the current law.

The two reunited in May after Fuierer used a search angel and independent investigation. She later learned the two lived near each other for the first 12 years of her life, but neither knew.

"If I'd known she was looking for me, I would have made it easier to find me," said Bonnie Rafferty, her mother.

But she didn't know. So Fuierer pieced together her medical history with the information she had access to and she says it was not nearly enough, especially when her daughter was diagnosed with an esophageal disease.

"I do feel had I known my health history, I could've watched for it," she said. When Fuierer met with her birth mother and her family, she learned about a half-brother on her birth father's side who suffered from similar issues.

Now, at 15, Cassie Staino, her daughter, can manage the disease, eosinophilic esophagitis, but Fuierer said she wonders how many other adoptees and their children don't know the health risks they may face.

"It's great that I know her and I love her, but she's also who I am medically and what me and my children can expect to face later in life," said Fuierer.

TMANON2@DemocratandChronicle.com

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