Last night I spent an hour on the phone with my Sister. It was great to talk to her, and we were both able to vent about stuff that is bothering us. We both said we are going to do better and talk more, because we feel better getting it all out.
I didn’t grow up with my Sister. In fact, I didn’t even know she existed until I was 26 and just married, and she was 17. I didn’t know I had a younger brother (Brother #6 in the scheme of all this) until then either. I knew I had an older Brother (#4) and a younger sister (#2) and younger brother (#5), none of whom I had met.
I was adopted by my family when I was an infant. I always knew as my family was open about it, going so far as to create a book they used to read to me about my adoption. The Brothers, as I called them as a child, were not adopted, but by the time my parents felt they needed one more child, a girl, they weren’t going to conceive one. So they went to an agency and started the process to adopt a five or six year old girl. They received a call around nine months later that an infant was available, were they interested? They were, they drove to the agency where they were placed in a room where they could spend time to decide if they wanted to take me home. When the caseworker came back I was dressed in the outfit my Mom had brought and they took me home that day. A year later, and with no caseworker visits that I’ve heard about, my whole family went before a judge, said they wanted to keep me, and it was a done deal. Some pet adoptions are more complicated today than my adoption was back then.
So I grew up knowing I was adopted, which really didn’t impact me. It was something unique to share, there was a relative who refused to acknowledge me because of the adoption, the Middle Brother didn’t like to say I was because I was his sister and that was that, and I grew up, got married, had kids and got a mortgage.
Due to health issues in my early 20’s I contacted the adoption agency, paid them the fee, and learned who my birth mother was. We even talked on the phone. I learned she had a daughter two years younger than me, and a son four years younger than I am. She seemed relieved to know I had grown up in a good home. Today we are Face Book friends, and we ocassionaly send pictures to each other. She did give me the name of my birth father, which I didn’t do anything with until right after I got married. A co-worker had a one month access to an Internet database and could look people up, so I had her look the name up, and found him.
I didn’t get to meet my birth father before he passed away, but we did talk on the phone a couple of times. I have however met my Sister and Brothers #4 and #6. I even added Sister and Brother #6’s mom to my family. It’s been nine years since my Sister and I officially met in person, when she came for Little One’s 5th birthday party. And she has been part of our life and celebrations since. Sister and I had always wanted a sister, and then we got one. We went through growing pains even though we were adults as we got to know each other. My girls love having a Crazy Aunt (even though she isn’t very crazy anymore) and she loves taking them on adventures when she visits.
So, it was great to talk to my Sister, catch up, and be there for each other. My girls are close, and I hope they always are. They are the first to defend the other, the first to make the other incredibly mad, and the first to be supportive and proud of the other. Having and being a sister is special, and I’m so glad I get to experience it.