I usually try to stick to writing about what I personally understand and/or have experienced. I like to have the first hand frame of reference when sharing information. To me, it makes it seem more genuine. Yet, every so often, a story about adoption pops out of nowhere and into my inbox (thanks go Google alerts) and I am moved to tears.

We often hear about the Baby Scoop era here in the United States. (For more on the time frame, read Ann Fessler's book, The Girls Who Went Away.) As Americans, we often think that our own history is the only one that we need to learn. However, so much can be learned when we look to the histories of others and consider their achievements and even their mistakes.

Our own system keeps records sealed so that birthparents and adoptees have a hard time finding each other. Yet, even with the Baby Scoop and the sealed records, I've never been so overcome with simultaneous anger and sadness as when I read this article about the Third Reich, adoption and the plans for the "master race."

For decades after the second world war a climate of shame suppressed discussion of the social impact of the Third Reich. That meant that many Lebensborn children only recently discovered their roots - especially those who grew up in the former communist east. Among those, some were astounded to read about their background in their Stasi secret service files, which were made public after the reunification of Germany in 1990.

These children, now adults, didn't just have sealed files to deal with and get past; they had a Wall. They had a history that no one wanted to admit to or accept.

Standing on its front lawn, a member of the Lebensspuren board stresses how important it is to document what happened, but always with a nod to the larger tragedy of Hitler's regime. The museum must remind future generations, "but certainly not stand as any sort of memorial", he says. "That is the crux of the dilemma for this generation. They are victims but at the same time, the children of criminals".

I think, if I had been a birth mother in these times in Germany (where some of my ancestors come from, others from Poland), I could not allow myself to visit the old maternity home, now musem. The emotions that must penetrate those walls; the screams of childbirth from both mother and child, the inevitable losses for both. I do believe it would be too much for me.

As for these adults, coming together, I think they are doing the right thing.

"It's high time to tell the truth," said Gisela Heidenreich, one of the 37 Lebensborn (source of life) children who travelled to the quiet town. "There's been too much talk about Nazi babies, women being kept as SS whores and tall blond people being bred."

They, like our birth mothers who have been silenced and victimized by shame, need to speak the truth. Perhaps these adults who are now speaking out, telling us this story, will give courage to those Mothers from that day. If not courage, some peace. Even if you aren't of German heritage, this is part of our story, as an adoption community, just as with the stories of the Baby Scoop era.

Let us tell these brothers and sisters in adoption that they need not feel shame in our presence. I embrace them tonight.

And thus ends tonight's random history lesson on adoption.