“Come here, Grammy Linda, come here,” one of the Boettcher brothers called across the lawn. It’s a scene that was once unthinkable and is still unusual in its openness.
Linda is grandmother by birth to Leo, 6, and Henry, almost 4. She and her family have an intertwined relationship with adoptive parents Michael and Megan Boettcher.
The Boettchers at their home in Clarks Summit on Wednesday, April 30, 2025. (REBECCA PARTICKA/STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER)
Leo Boettcher looks at mementos saved from his and his brother Henry’s early childhood at their home in Clarks Summit on Wednesday, April 30, 2025. (REBECCA PARTICKA/STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER)
Megan Boettcher and her sons Henry and Leo look through the Easter basket the boys’ birth grandmother brought to their home in Clarks Summit on Wednesday, April 30, 2025. (REBECCA PARTICKA/STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER)
Megan Boettcher shares mementos from when her sons were babies at their home in Clarks Summit on Wednesday, April 30, 2025. (REBECCA PARTICKA/STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER)
Megan Boettcher shares her family’s adoption story at their home in Clarks Summit on Wednesday, April 30, 2025. (REBECCA PARTICKA/STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER)
The boys’ birth mother was 19 when she chose adoption for the first of two unplanned pregnancies. Her parents supported her decisions.
“But I was so distraught that they would never be part of my life,” Linda said.
The boys’ birth mother declined to comment, because the topic is emotional for her. But she did give Linda her OK to tell their story. Linda asked to be identified by first name only, for her daughter’s privacy.
Michael and Megan rode the same bus to school, went to the prom together and married 10 years later. Michael spent time as a stay-at-home dad when Leo arrived and now works for FedEx. Megan is a school social worker.
From the start, the Clarks Summit couple was open to either pregnancy or adoption, whichever came first. Adoptions in Megan’s extended family taught her that families can be built in different ways.
The Boettchers always planned to offer some information, such as photos and updates, to be passed through the adoption agency.
Linda hoped for more, and the Boettchers were receptive. The openness grew.
“Mike and I felt strongly that there is no limit on the number of people who can love a child,” Megan said. “And Linda’s family’s love for our children didn’t interfere with ours, or anything like that. So if you want to love my child and you are a positive influence, you have a place in our life.”
Now both families have big boxes of keepsakes, including the boys’ art projects and patchwork stuffed animals. The stuffed animals were made out of clothes given by Linda’s family. After the boys outgrew them, Megan found an artisan on Etsy to make the toys.
“I feel like I have gained a son and a daughter,” Linda said. “God gave them to me, I think, I know.” The boys call their birth grandfather Pappy. The couple live in Luzerne County.
Megan and Michael outlined the intertwined family tree in a keepsake baby book designed for adoptive families. They wanted the boys to always be aware of the adoptions, instead of hearing about it in later life.
Leo and Henry call their birth mother by her first name. They know they “grew in her belly” and most often see her at family gatherings.
Today, birth mothers are given respect that was often missing in the past. The adoption community chooses words carefully. “Making a plan for adoption” has replaced “giving up a child for adoption.” To call either woman the “real mother” is taboo.
Knowing the birth family can give access to medical history. The Boettchers tried various unsuccessful treatments for the boys’ eczema. Linda suggested the same soap that worked for her own children. Problem solved.
It’s a trivial example of a big issue. Access to medical information was one reason adopted children began pushing to unseal records in recent decades.
At the time that Linda’s daughter became pregnant a second time, the Boettchers happened to want another child.
Both adoptions were facilitated by St. Joseph’s Center, which has locations in Dunmore and Scranton. St. Joseph’s Center is well-known for its residential and outpatient care of children and adults with intellectual and other disabilities.
When they separately began the adoption process, neither family knew St. Joseph’s still handled infant adoption. That was once its primary mission.
Even Megan, a social worker with two relatives who once worked there, only heard about the adoption services when the couple came to St. Joseph’s to make a donation in honor of a late-term pregnancy loss. Linda’s family was referred by another social services agency.
St. Joseph’s Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children and Aged Persons opened in 1888. The name soon changed to St. Joseph’s Children’s and Maternity Hospital. Its role as an orphanage began to dwindle after World War II, according to its website.
Infant adoption is mentioned on St. Joseph’s website, but not widely advertised. That’s because there are so few opportunities and because of its “serious nature,” said Tamara Hall, director of maternal and family services. Most years between two and four infant adoptions are finalized.
“While the Infant Adoption Program impacts only a few families each year, the depth of that impact is life-changing in countless ways,” Sister Maryalice Jacquinot, I.H.M., president and CEO, said via email. “In all of our services we experience God’s unconditional love, and this is especially true with infant adoption.”
Today, St. Joseph’s offers residential settings for pregnant women or mothers who are experiencing homelessness, counseling services and a pantry that provides free baby and child care supplies to the public.
Nationally, infant adoption has dwindled for a number of reasons, while the number of adoptable older children and teens in foster care is high.