Chasing Love

I found out that I was adopted by a mean kid on the school bus when I was 10, because his momma was mad at my mother who was the bus driver. He had been moved to the front seat for fighting. Linda, his mom tried to appeal to no avail when he boarded and the last thing she said as the door closed was “Son you know what you have to do?”. As the bus pulled away he gritted and yelled “that’s why you’re adopted, she ain’t your momma, she ain’t your momma”, over and over getting the other kids to join in. Although, my mother explained I was so loved that I had two sets of parents. It quieted the children but I was not satisfied.

Even with further conversations I still had questions. Why did they give me away? Were they looking for me? Did they miss me? Or did they just dump me and go on with life? Our relationship was strained and strange when I declared I wanted to look for my birth parents. As if I had just told mom thanks but you’re no longer needed. My parents adopted me after losing a baby boy named Warner in the third trimester. My dad was good with their life without children but Barbara only wanted to be a mom in the worst way, so he wrapped his mind around the idea.

They showered me with all kind of gifts but I only wanted a sister. They attempted to adopt another girl but she died from a fluke fall out of the living room door, a few hours after it from an aneurism at a hospital in the neighboring state. For over fifty years I always said “I don’t know I was adopted” when asked about my family history. Until four years ago when my caregiver got tired of saying it too, when I was in a coma. After I was home for a month, looking for a gift for my birthday, she ordered a DNA kit.

To our surprise, my first match was my biological sister. The only other child our mother had. Ironically, she had been a member of the DNA testing site for only a month before I did the test. She grew up knowing that I existed. Our mother passed away while enjoying a night of bowling with friends. While I was wishing for a mother’s love after being evicted and disowned because I got pregnant at sixteen.

After meeting my sister and her godmother that weekend in 2018, I learned our mother was forced to give me up because she became pregnant at 17. She tried to get the father to help us but he was not parent or partner material. Our mom died not knowing what ever happened to me but thankfully my sister wanted to find me.

I was a selfish child, I didn’t like sharing. My friends didn’t want to visit often, my parents kept trying to create play dates. Maybe Gloria’s was death is my fault, we were fighting over a toy when I jerked it violently causing her to stumble backwards into the screen door and falling out of it. My mom swore that didn’t happen. I am not sure she didn’t just cover up the truth, in order to not lose both daughters.

Nonetheless, I grew up pampered, spoiled and alone. All the toys in the world, forced playdates and multi-family weekend outings didn’t make up for someone to brush my teeth with before giggling off to bed every night. The first time I met Nicki, she made up for years of not being able to raid her big sister’s closet…. She and her godmother got at least five pairs of brand-new shoes, each. I sat back, chuckled and asked if she missed out on that growing up? Everyone looked around to one another and laughed!

My sister and I are very much like the city mouse and the country mouse. She grew up all over, between California and New Jersey. I, on the other hand, never left Virginia. My idea of traveling is going to the E.R., while she’s filled several passports already before the age of fifty. The running joke in my house every time I have something I want to send her, I have to ask where she will be the week I want to send it. My longest trip was when my mother sent me to Baltimore Maryland for two weeks at fourteen, to get me away from my boyfriend.

 I have three sons and she doesn’t have any children. She graduated from a four-year institution, early. I attempted a junior college and joked I was on a twenty-year plan for a two-year degree.  I’m not complaining because I love my life now. Had my life been any different, I would not appreciate how far I have come since March 17, 1998. I also realize that car accident was my saving grace. Before the accident I was just going through the motions, not living. I now know I wasn’t giving the children the attention they deserved, because they were either at school, a babysitter or being shuffled between. I definitely didn’t make it home to Emporia enough to see my oldest that lived with his grandma on his father’s side.

 The Christmas after my accident was the first time all three children had spent a week together during the holiday season ever. It also turned out to be their best for the gifts received. The law firm that handled the case adopted the whole family. We got gifts that filled half of the living room and half of the kitchen. They spared no expense per person or for the house. I was able to just enjoy watching the boys interact with each other. Good, bad or indifferent watching the older brother and “knee-baby”, jockey for control. Watching the youngest brother loving and hating both of the older ones depending on the day and reason. This definitely proved to me, that the love I wanted already existed!