[FONT="]This morning, my "middle" sister (I'm the youngest of three girls) called me. She told me when we were all very young, my mom had another baby, a girl, who she put up for adoption. This now-middle-aged woman contacted my oldest sister last week.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Background: In the early 1940s, my mom had to drop out of high school to care for her mother who had had a stroke. Being the eldest, that was her responsibility. Later, her husband, my dad, was a drunk and incredibly abusive. Mom had had five kids with him; the first-born, a boy, drowned when he was six, so she had us four remaining. She found the courage, with four small children and no education and no money, to run away from Dad. My eldest sister, over the next decades, had rarely mentioned the time my dad found us and beat my mom almost to death. This morning, my middle sister told me she remembers the abuse that day. She said he raped her. And left.[/FONT]
[FONT="]I found out this morning my mom got pregnant, gave birth to a girl and gave her up. A few years ago, this woman got information from the state adoption agency on her birth parents, and found my eldest sister on a genealogy Web site. This gal worked up the courage and called my eldest sister.[/FONT]
[FONT="]I've been bawling all morning remembering how my poor mom suffered, but how she put us kids first and struggled to survive and put food on the table for her children. She never complained.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Before I called this new sister, I called Mom first. She's surprisingly nonchalant, but she said she couldn't give the new baby anything, but sent her to have a better life than what she could give. She has dementia now, but I also take the nonchalance as a mental-emotional protective wall that surrounded her for decades. She said she's glad the news is out.
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[FONT="]I spoke to this new gal just now for about a half hour. Wow, this is a lot to mentally embrace, but all us girls are ready to physically embrace her. [/FONT]
[FONT="]I need a drink. Wow, I have a little sister![/FONT]
[FONT="]Background: In the early 1940s, my mom had to drop out of high school to care for her mother who had had a stroke. Being the eldest, that was her responsibility. Later, her husband, my dad, was a drunk and incredibly abusive. Mom had had five kids with him; the first-born, a boy, drowned when he was six, so she had us four remaining. She found the courage, with four small children and no education and no money, to run away from Dad. My eldest sister, over the next decades, had rarely mentioned the time my dad found us and beat my mom almost to death. This morning, my middle sister told me she remembers the abuse that day. She said he raped her. And left.[/FONT]
[FONT="]I found out this morning my mom got pregnant, gave birth to a girl and gave her up. A few years ago, this woman got information from the state adoption agency on her birth parents, and found my eldest sister on a genealogy Web site. This gal worked up the courage and called my eldest sister.[/FONT]
[FONT="]I've been bawling all morning remembering how my poor mom suffered, but how she put us kids first and struggled to survive and put food on the table for her children. She never complained.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Before I called this new sister, I called Mom first. She's surprisingly nonchalant, but she said she couldn't give the new baby anything, but sent her to have a better life than what she could give. She has dementia now, but I also take the nonchalance as a mental-emotional protective wall that surrounded her for decades. She said she's glad the news is out.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]I spoke to this new gal just now for about a half hour. Wow, this is a lot to mentally embrace, but all us girls are ready to physically embrace her. [/FONT]
[FONT="]I need a drink. Wow, I have a little sister![/FONT]
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