Story of the Adopted Sister

Story of the Adopted Sister

Again this is a story that stretches over many years. Like many family stories that there is not one version but many. I will attempt to tell my story but also from my sister’s point of view as I remember it.

When I was 6 years old, my sister Patricia, (or Pat as she likes to be called) entered the family unit. As far as this 6 year old understood, she was just there. I don’t remember any advanced notice of a baby coming, Pat was just there.

The next year when I was 7 years old, my mother was pregnant for the 4th time. Like the year before, there was no advance notice that a baby was coming into the family unit and again I was too young to notice any physical difference in my mother.

One Sunday morning I came downstairs to start my morning routines. Since it was Sunday, Dad was always up early to get to the races or in the winter, working on the motorcycles. Today Dad was not up! Usually on the weekend I would make Dad his morning coffee prior to him heading off to the garage. Making coffee for Dad amounted to heating water in the tea kettle and pouring the water into a cup with 1 teaspoon of instant coffee. Dad has so used to instant coffee that he used to say that instant was much better that perked.

Well Dad was still in bed, but Mom was not there. She was not anywhere. Now I began to get scared because this was not normal and children need to have a normal routine or they will get scared. I woke Dad and asked him, “Where’s Mom?” His reply was, “Some woman had a baby and she did not want it. So your mother went to the hospital to pick it up.” I couldn’t understand why it took Mom 3 days to pick up a kid that someone didn’t want. Even through I remember asking Dad why Mom wasn’t home, I don’t remember any answer to this question. Most likely, Dad didn’t know why to answer it, so he just changed the subject or simply ignore the question. Therefore this is where the story of the “Adopted Sister” found its beginning.

As I was the eldest child, it was my duty to help keep my sisters in line, to protect them from harm and to set a good example. Since my mother worked as a waitress at night, and my father spent most of his waking hours in the garage, I was in charge of my sisters during our home life. That included after school and weekends when Mom was not in attendance. My father only came into the picture of raising a child when there was fighting or other disagreements. My mother was not aware of this situation until we were grown. Mother never realized how little my father did. She never realized that it was me that raised my sisters when she was not around. In reality, Mom gave me the principles that would shape my life and in turn I passed these ideals down to my sisters. It is a hard thing that a parent sets a child to be the adult for their younger siblings. I was in charge of disciple, encouragement, and to set up examples of responsibilities.

My main responsibility was to keep my sisters in line with my mother’s wishes and to keep them from harm. At times I was told to have my sisters perform some minor tasks and it was my responsibility to have the tasks completed. Many times this was a Herculean task to complete. Janet, being the youngest, was the hardest to keep “in line”. She was so small and fearless. Each time I had any problems getting her to mind me, I would tell her that she was adopted, that her real mother did not want her, and that Mom picked her up because she was sorry for the baby nobody wanted. Then I would add that if she didn’t do what I said, we would call the police and take her away because she was only adopted.

You should understand why this story was believable. Janet was different from the rest of us. She didn’t look like my other sisters and me. Her hair was darker and very straight. She was fearless and the rest of us of timid. Janet grew up believing she was different and thus she must have been adopted. Her belief in what I told her concerning the “adopted baby” continued for years.

On day, my mother overheard me telling Janet that she was adopted. Mom immediately drew me aside and asked where I got this crazy story. I told her what Dad had told me on the day that Janet was born. Mom was shocked as anyone might have been. She was upset that Dad has told me such a thing and immediately set out to correct any misconception. She took down Janet’s baby book from the shelf and proceeded to instruct both Janet and myself on this error. Mother proofed to both myself and Janet that she was indeed my true sister and not adopted. Although I never used this “adopted” threat again, the damage had been done in Janet mental makeup.

Years later, for unrelated reasons, Janet had to go to mental therapy. The doctors felt that child abuse had to occur in Janet’s childhood. The only evidence that the doctors could find child abuse was the way I threaten Janet with the idea that she was been adopted. Therefore I was entered into her medical chart of the mental abuse and the villain as myself even though I was only a child at the time of the abuse.

Lesson: Be very careful in what you tell a child. A child can not tell the difference between a joke and the truth. Children take all that is said to them as the truth. A misjudgment in relating facts to a child can affect them even into adulthood.