Sandwiched
I sometimes get surprised looks when I tell people that my mother is 87 and lives in an assisted living facility. Most of my friends’ parents are in their early to mid 70s and still in fairly good health. The reactions are similar when people hear that my brother and sister are 15 and 16 years older than me. Everyone assumes I was an “oops” baby.
My story actually begins with the loss of my “big little sister,” Laurie, who was born in 1967 with a missing bile duct for her liver. Laurie may have been the “oops” baby, although with my mom’s spotty memory I’ll never know for sure. But was she fiercely loved and lived to be two years old, much longer than anyone anticipated back in those days.
Her death left a hole in my family’s life, and as I’ve shared before, my future pediatrician, Dr. Erickson, recommended Mom and Dad consider adoption. That put them on the path to adopting me as a two-week-old baby on Laurie’s birthday in September of 1970.
Nowadays, parents having babies in their late 30s through their late 40s isn’t so unusual. Fifty years ago, it was a little odd. It definitely made things different.
Most people are separated from their parents by one generation. For me, it was more like two. I grew up listening to (and growing to love) big band music instead of rock n’ roll. When Mom and I went shopping for my clothes, her tastes weren’t exactly as “youthful” for me as they should have been. I dressed much older than I should have for decades as result.
I also lost nearly all of my grandparents at a young age with the exception of my grandfather, who died when I was 27. Thankfully, I have vivid memories of my maternal grandmother, whom I dearly loved.
However, having older parents and siblings had its advantages. While Mom and Dad weren’t able to take me on adventures such as sledding and waterskiing, my sister and her husband Mike did. I became an aunt at the ripe old age of six and continuing on through my teens. I’m incredibly close to my niece and nephew because we practically grew up together.
It also creates amusing situations. I’ll never forget the time someone in my dorm commented how nice it was that my grandmother was helping me move in. (Well, maybe Mom wasn’t amused.) It’s also been interesting to see the looks from others when having lunch out with my brother. I could practically hear the judgmental “he’s old enough to be her father” thoughts.
I felt like I finally “caught up” with my siblings when I entered my 40s. We’re closer now than we ever have been. In fact, I think sharing the care for Mom has made us even closer.
Yes, having older parents and siblings has definitely been interesting and continues to be so. But I love my unique situation. To me, it’s quite wonderful in every way.