I've never admitted this before. Even now as I type these words..I feel guilty. I feel as if I am risking a lot.... as if typing these words will someone make them more true than I already think they are.
I don't fit in sometimes with my extended adoptive family. My maternal grandparents adore me. My aunts and uncles and cousins...they are all nice to me. But there are many things that have happened over the years that demonstrate to me, sadly, that I am not quite "one of them."
My mother has two brothers. Both of these brothers have children. These children are all very close- they all share a last name. It came to a point once where one of my cousins went to live with my aunt and uncle due to ideological problems with his parents. When they had a graduation party, I was not invited. When they have joint birthday parties, I am not invited. I find out about these mini-parties at bigger ones- Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween. I see pictures of all of them, at their respective homes, celebrating various occasions. I once overheard one of my aunts complaining to my grandmother and grandfather that she gave me too much attention, that I wasn't even really "her grandchild" and that the love should be reserved for her children- the REAL grandkids. I was six. I still remember that day.
My grandparents keep the family together. But I wonder, sometimes, what will happen when they die. Will I still be invited to family dinners...will I still exist? My big Italian/Irish family always goodnaturedly fight at the dinner table. They are 90% Italian and 10% Irish. They argue over which nationality is better. Both my uncles and all of my cousins are members of the NYPD and NYFD...the prestigious and very "clique-y" law enforcement groups in New York City. They all have this bond- they are loud, Italian, New Yorkers. What am I?
This Easter, my cousin announced that he was marrying his girlfriend of 2 months. Everybody at the table knew why...even though nobody said it out loud. They are both 21 years old. Later, my grandmother and I spoke in private. She is, of course, disappointed about the 'early' and impending arrival of her first great-grandchild. But, she said, it will be nice to have a baby in the house again. When someone in my family mentioned adoption ( I dont remember who), she said " No, no. We keep our babies in this family."
I live in Europe..so I heard all of this over the telephone. My grandother apologized to me later, for her "indescretion."
"I didn't mean that bad families don't keep their babies" she said "... I didn't mean that." But thats exactly what she meant.
Another time, while trying to convince her sons to get good grades as I do, my aunt said "Look at Amanda, look how she gets such good grades and is such a good girl! You all had the BEST start in life. Amanda had it rough, her parents gave her away! You all had the best start, cherished from before you were born. Why can't you get good grades like she does?"
Thanks, Aunt Lisa.
I have two nephews. I love them dearly and they love me. I call them all the time, I write them colorful letters from the country where I live. I send them handmade, handstitched bedtime stories. I call their mother on mothers day, my brother (their father) on fathers day. They are nice to me, never forget my birthday, and love me dearly. But... I am afraid I don't matter. I am afraid I am the "adopted" aunt....the "adopted sister" of my brother. An extra. I don't think my nephews know I am adopted. I am simply "aunt Amanda". But what about when they find out? What will it mean to them?
And so I wonder- is this merely another one of the burdens that we, as adoptees, are "lucky" enough to bear? When my parents are gone... what will I be? What will I become? I am a part of this family because they brought me into it. But when they are no longer here to love me, to be my mom and dad.... will I still be Aunt Amanda? Cousin Amanda? Or will my place in this family disappear.... a bastard baby brought into their midst, but who was never meant to stay?
