By AMY SHANKLAND
Perfectly Imperfect
Thank you for the wonderful comments from last week. My adoption and reunion story will be slowly revealed every Friday, just like a television program before the days of VCRs, DVRs, streaming, and binge watching! I appreciate your patience.
Mom and Dad didn’t say anything at first about what I figured were ridiculous rumors being spread at my school about me being adopted. Friday evening and Saturday were uneventful. When church rolled around Sunday morning I figured the whole thing was just a lie. I would simply return to school on Monday and everything would go back to normal.
After lunch that day, however, I knew that wouldn’t be the case. As we finished eating that meal in our sunny, tiny green kitchen, I saw Mom glance nervously at Dad.
“Honey, Mrs. Price called and shared with us what happened at school on Friday. It’s time we told you something,” Mom began. She kept looking at Dad. I think she was hoping he might take over the conversation or at least contribute to it.
“Twelve years ago we had another little girl named Laurie. She didn’t do well right after she was born because of a missing bile duct for her liver. The doctors told us she wouldn’t live long and it was very hard. She died not long after her second birthday.”
“All four of us were so sad. We felt like there was this hole in our lives after Laurie died. We had a talk with Dr. Erickson … you know, your pediatrician? He suggested that we think about adopting a baby. He said he’d write the best letter of recommendation ever.”
All I could do was sit there, my mouth refusing to move. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“So, we went through Catholic Social Services and started the process to adopt another little girl – you. You were born in Cincinnati and then stayed with a foster family for a few weeks until you came to live with us forever on Laurie’s birthday, of all days. That changed a sad day in our lives to a very happy one.”
Then came yet another look from Mom to Dad. He remained silent. Years later I would learn that she had been rather frustrated that he didn’t speak up that day. In my mind, though, Mom handled everything beautifully. Dad was never the type to talk about touchy-feely stuff well anyway.
I don’t recall what I said in response. I’m sure I talked about how confused I was at school and how upsetting everything had been. Mom told me that Mrs. Price had known for many years that I was adopted because she had also taught my brother and sister in school and was close to them. My parents didn’t understand how that information had gotten spread around my school, and to this day I’m not sure why the other teacher shared it with my schoolmates.
I remember leaning up against my dresser in my room later and staring at myself in the oval mirror above it.
“So … Mom and Dad aren’t my real mom and dad?” I asked my reflection. Unfortunately Mom overheard that comment and burst into tears. She came upstairs and hugged me for a long time.