May 31, 2005

• MY ADOPTION STORY

  Some of you may not know that I was adopted. It was a God sort of thing; we were being removed from our birth mother by the state, and on our way to becoming a part of the system, when our adoptive parents found out about us. I can't even begin to imagine what our childhood would have been like if we had become wards of the state ~ which is what was in the process of happening when Moma and Daddy found out about us. (I was a little over a year old, anemic and malnourished; my brothrs were 2 ½ and 3 ½. Moma says it took a month to get rid of the diaper rash and a week to get my digetive system regulated. The bottom of my feet were round because I had never been out of a baby bed to learn to walk. Moma said I never cried.) They heard on a Thursday, traveled over 400 miles one-way to see us on Friday. Signed the paperwork and came home with us on Saturday. Didn’t know judges worked on Saturdays….

  
  

  To make a long story short, Moma and Daddy took the oldest and the youngest. (They already had two boys they adopted several years before that, so they grew from a family of 4 to 6 overnight.)

  
  

  

  
  

  Moma’s cousin, who lived about 30 miles away, took the middle child. So even though we were legally just second cousins, (or something like that) we always knew that we were really siblings. Being that close, our families visited back and forth, and we never lost touch with each other, like so many sibling adoptees do. Of course the brothers did most of the visiting, ‘cuz who wants a pesky little sister along!

  
  

  My cousin/brother lives in Oklahoma now, and I am here in central Arkansas, so we don’t get to see as much of each other as we would like. But the love is there. Here is the most recent photo I have of the three of us, taken in March (at the brother in the middle's silver anniversary/vow renewal) He is the one in the red shirt, on the right:

  
  

  

  
  

  
  

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