Baby Tamia's mom rises to the occasion
Jonathan Lipman
The Frankfort and Mokena Star
Backed by family and activists, a young mother fights for her baby -- and a bigger cause as well
In the past three months, Carmen McDonald has lost a baby but gained a family.
Carmen gave up her infant daughter Tamia for adoption in Utah late last year.
Last Thursday was another unsuccessful day in Cook County court for Carmen and her mother, Maria, as they fight to get Tamia back. But Carmen did not hide, as she has in the past, behind the army of lawyers and advocates her mother has rallied to their cause.
In an interview, Carmen began speaking for herself.
The shy young woman who has battled depression is drawing new strength from a family bigger than she ever knew.
"There are other families in Harvey who I never met who have smiled at me and offered their condolences and their help," Carmen said. "I've never experienced something like that before.
"This whole situation is like a national concern, and I'm just getting to understand that."
Carmen, 20, who lives in Harvey with her sister, and Maria, 43, of Chicago's Riverdale community, have become symbols of a growing anger at the racial divides in the nation's adoption system. Carmen, still uncomfortable in the spotlight, said she knows she has a role to play in a larger issue, and she now speaks with a sense of purpose.
"Hopefully this will strengthen the black community," Carmen said, her mother smiling at her. "Just because we aren't living on the top of Hollywood doesn't mean we can't come together and strengthen our community."
Changing her mind
The McDonalds' attorneys say A Cherished Child Adoption Agency flew Carmen from Chicago to Utah on Dec. 2, had her sign away her parental rights, and flew her back within 24 hours.
"At the time, I just felt like I wasn't going to be a good mother," Carmen said last Thursday. "I guess I was just feeling really selfish ... I didn't think about what my family would feel."
Carmen's baby nephew only recently learned by watching TV news that his new cousin is gone.
"Tamia was only with us for three months, but I was pregnant for nine, so he knew a baby was coming," Carmen said. "He looked at me with a lot of concern on his face ... That's hard for me to deal with."
Carmen said she does not remember clearly everything that happened in Utah. Her attorneys said she was running a 102-degree fever at the time, crying uncontrollably and suffering from severe post-partum depression as well as depression from the recent death of her grandmother.
But Carmen remembers that when she got to Utah, she changed her mind about the adoption.
"(Tamia) was looking at me really funny, and she didn't want to be around those people," Carmen said. "So I was like, 'Forget the whole thing.' "
When she told the agency she wanted to keep Tamia, the agency's director yelled at her and threatened to leave her stranded in Utah with no way home, according to the McDonalds' lawsuit.
Illinois and Utah adoption authorities say the adoption was illegal because it went so fast and violated notification procedures agreed upon by both states, according to letters submitted this week by the McDonalds' attorneys.
The McDonalds were hoping that Cook County Presiding Judge Michael Murphy would order Tamia home last week, but the judge said he needed sworn affidavits to back up the letters from authorities. The case was to return to court Wednesday.
Cherished Child's attorneys have declined to comment outside of court and said little in court about what they believe happened in Utah. The agency has not returned calls for comment.
A grandmother's role
When Carmen returned from Utah, she told her mother the baby was with its father in Ohio.
"I saw how much (my family) was affected by Tamia not being there," Carmen said. "And I had to leave. I left."
New Orleans police picked up an incoherent Carmen on the streets of New Orleans days later. She told police where Tamia was, and police informed Maria. Carmen was hospitalized for mental illness and has been receiving treatment since.
Maria did not think it was right that the baby could disappear without someone telling her. In her family, as in many black families, she had a large role in Tamia's life as her grandmother.
"I was the first person to touch (Tamia); I touched her before Carmen touched her," Maria said. "It was important for me to have her back here."
Fighting for a cause
When Maria began fighting for the return of her granddaughter, she had only the help of Chicago Sun-Times columnist Mary Mitchell, who has chronicled the McDonalds' plight and similar stories from other black families.
Now she has three lawyers and activist Bishop Larry Trotter working on her side. People have donated thousands of dollars to her legal defense fund. After last Thursday's hearing, a battery of TV cameras and reporters were there to hear her reaction.
"I'm really hurt about the fact that they're delaying this," Maria told the cameras. "That's my granddaughter, and they have no right."
Privately, Maria said she feels like she is fighting for something larger than her family. She recalled a paper she once wrote for a class in African-American history, about slave owners profiting from the sale of children who were taken from their mothers.
"I wish I could get my hands on that paper right now!" Maria said, pounding her finger on the table. "This is no different, taking our children away from us."
Maria feels that Cherished Child and other adoption agencies prey on young black women who may not fully understand their legal rights or who feel like they have few options, coercing them into giving up their babies.
Carmen says she feels like she is part of this larger struggle, too.
"My mother, she's just not saying stuff to win, she's saying it because it's true: Most black families don't get a chance," Carmen said.
Even as Carmen has learned she has a place in the African-American community, she's also learned the power and strength of her own family. She knows she could not fight for Tamia by herself.
"I'm just so grateful I have a strong mother who was educated enough to act quickly," Carmen said. "If you wait, you don't have a chance.
"Everything she's done for me, I won't ever be able to pay her back."