My earliest childhood memory is the day we found out we would be getting my little sisters – TWINS!
My being adopted has never been a secret. There was never a big reveal or life-shattering moment where I found out. It has always been a part of who I am and the dynamics of our family.
I do not recall asking for a little brother or sister, but my parents swear that I was first one to bring up adding to our cozy trio.
The day the agency called to tell my mother that they had an immediate placing for twin girls – I can remember that I was watching cartoons with my Daddy and we both looked at each other when we heard Momma say “TWINS?!?” She peered into the den from the kitchen. This was pre-portable phone days so she couldn’t walk to us. Once she hung up the phone, I am sure she explained everything to my dad. All I remember is the rest of the evening one of us would look at the other and say “Twins!” and start laughing uncontrollably.
As an adult and hindsight, I am sure there were some serious conversations between my parents about how twin babies would change the dynamics of our family and finances. I know my parents, though. As soon as Momma hung up the phone, the decision had already been made even if it hadn’t been verbalized.
Adoption was not as freely spoken about as it is not. While it wasn’t a secret, it was not something I spoke about frequently to others. So often the first response would be “I’m sorry.” I could never understand why they would feel the need to apologize or treat me like I had the plague. I am glad that the stigma around adoption has diminished over the decades.
“Do you want to find your real mother?”
Another question that I wasn’t fond of. I know my real mother. She raised me. She’s loved me unconditionally. She’s the best role model I could ever ask for. I have no desire to “find” the woman who birthed me. I am thankful for her and her decision give me a better life. There are no missing pieces or longings for a reunion. I’m at peace with the decision she made and pray she is, too.
The next memory I have of my childhood, also, revolves around my sisters’ adoption. It was the day we went to pick them up. I remember sitting in the agency and that the caseworker gave me a book. I remember meeting my little sisters for the first time and falling in love immediately. I was officially a big sister. Over the next few weeks there was a whirlwind of activity in our home – visits, food, feedings, tears (probably from all FIVE of us!), laughter and quiet moments with just us – our family of five.