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Well here I go jumping again. I am jumping back to when I was in about the 8th grade or so. My oldest sister was already in our lives at this point on a regular basis, and her boyfriend at the time really helped to track down some of the family members that he could. He found out some information that led us to finding a sister who we met, and a brother who we didn’t meet. We were able to make contact and set up a meeting with her. She came down with her husband who even though I was young seemed a bit shifty if you ask me, but more about that later.

A little bit about her back ground, like so many of my other siblings, she had been handed to family members and then after a few days the cops were called saying that they had kidnapped her. On one occasion way before I was born, my parents had went to visit my parents and this sister was laying on top of garbage, in her crib, with milk running down her face, so my mother went to pick her up out of the crib, and noticed that she kept flinching and there were tears in her eyes. My mother asked what was wrong with her and my bio mother said she is always crying so I keep giving her more bottles. My mom continued to pick her up and noticed she smelled really bad. What she thought was a dirty diaper, turned out to be  an infection under her neck from not being washed and it was full of maggots. I am not sure how but they talked my bio mother into them taking her home but took her straight to the hospital where they cleaned out her neck, prescribed an antibiotic, and sent them on their way. The Dr.’s pretty much said that the maggots had actually helped the infection from getting worse, and probably saved her life.

I know from talking there were words said about the house being cleaned up before she could come home, and my bio mother pretty much said if they wanted it clean they would have to do it. I don’t know if any cleaning was done because as soon as my sister was healed and a happy baby again the police were called and they had to again hand my sister back over to them. I know how much this bothered my parents so I can imagine it was about the same for the rest of my family when this happened to them. I know all about that pain which I will get to later on.

Years went by after we were all separated and sure enough my oldest sister’s boyfriend found one of our sister’s and brother’s. Apparently they were both adopted by the same set of parents so they got to grow up together. I never did get to meet my brother but I do have pictures of him. When she came to visit she came with her husband and it was wonderful except there seemed to be something off. He never left her alone with anyone which was at first taken as him being protective but then later as being totally something else.  She remembered my parents well, and thanked them for everything they did to try to help her and the other kids when they were little. I do know that she made contact with our bio parents as well, but really don’t know what happened with that reunion.  When they returned back to their home, we received pictures when their son was born, and a few other pictures too. We wrote back and forth for a few years and then all of a sudden everything stopped. It was like they fell off the face of the Earth or something. Now the husband worked for the Military, and some of my family think that he killed her or something like that. I hope not, but we may never know for sure.

My sister’s and I are always searching for our missing siblings online and we even started putting their kids names in since they are grown now, and we had a hit, but this person was acting a bit strange so I didn’t friend them but I think one of my other sisters did. The child never once brought up my sister’s name, but his name, date of birth and everything else fit. He wouldn’t budge on information, and I don’t know if anyone tried to pry anything more out of him. I know one of my sister’s said that he was talking dirty to her, I am not sure what her definition of talking dirty is, but if it is what I think it was there is cause for concern.

I guess he has a child himself which I haven’t verified, but I would like to know what happened to my sister or at least know that she is alive and well would put my mind at ease. That is two of my sisters that pretty much fell from the face of the earth with just  a little glimmer of hope that we might still be able to find them. The picture of my oldest sister with one of my cousins grand children, and a son from my other older sister. It would even be nice if I were able to meet my brother someday. Until then  I will continue my search the best way I know how with the things that are within my reach. When you don’t have a lot of money to search for someone they can stay missing for quite a while.

 

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Oh the Twins. I have come to the reality I could not have been a twin. There are said to have been three sets of twins born to my bio mother. She would give one away in the hospital or where ever the trade went down and take the other home. Two sets have been confirmed but the third set was never confirmed. Since our records are sealed apparently forever we can’t even find out some things which makes it so hard to track down the answers. On top of that we have stories which are all the same no matter who you talk to about it. Would have been much more simple if our bio parents would have just told us more but they held it all the information and took it to their graves with them.

The reason I don’t think I have the twin is because I don’t think my bio mom would have flaunted me around in front of my parents if it was so. She would have just given them one and took one for herself, although I think my parents would have fought for the other. Isn’t that a hoot? For herself. She sure could have kids, but taking care of them was a whole other story. I remember back to that day I went to check on Bryan and my bio mother was at my younger sisters house, where she died if you remember. While there she kept going on how I looked like someone else, she always tried to get the kids to believe someone else was their father, messing with their heads. Well she wasn’t getting into mine. My son looks like my father, while Bryan looks like my bio father. On top of that I have things wrong with my blood that tie me to the Graham side, while others are from my bio mother’s side, at least from their nationality, so what she was able to get away with some of my siblings was not working on me. The only good thing I can see that I got from her was the easy births of  my children, and that I am really smart. Her IQ was through the roof or so I have been told countless times by everyone who knew her. I just wonder why someone could be so smart and mess up so badly? I will probably never know, but will always wonder.

Some people have asked so I thought I would go back to when my bio father became terminal. Both of my parents had already passed on as well as my bio mother. My Aunt kept calling me saying I needed to come and see my bio father, that he was asking for me. Well time went on and the calls got more urgent. I fought with myself each time the calls came. Do I go? What will people think? Would  this have hurt my parents? The reason for such a fuss is because once he was away from my bio mother he stopped drinking, and started living a decent life. He was liked by many even with his past which he never hid from. He made a total recovery and was a good man in the end. So when the last few calls came I called my other Aunt and Uncle who were much more close to my father I asked what I should do. She gave me the best advice, that I should go see him and pay my respects as his niece and he as my uncle the way I had grown up with it being. I said thank you to her and later that day went to see him.

Of course the room he was in was the same exact room my mother had died in, so the emotions waved over me something fierce. I had all I could do even set foot inside the room. I finally made that leap and looked at a shell that looked so much like my father, but wasn’t, but yet again he was the one who had given me life. I had waited so long that he couldn’t talk anymore, but he did know I was in the room and motioned for me to come over to him, where he held out his hand. I took it and began talking to him. I told him that I loved him for letting my parents raise me, that they had done a great job. I told him I forgave him, and that even though he had made mistakes he had changed the way he was, and that is what mattered. I told him my parents were always proud that he had stopped drinking, had gotten baptized, and had even attended church from time to time. I told him about my children, his grandkids and how much they had inherited from the Graham side. I talked to him until it was time to go and promised him that I would be back the next day.

The next day came, Dennis and I had gone out shopping, and on the way home I was really tired and I said to just take me home, but almost half way home I said turn around I promised I would go see him today. So Dennis turned the van around and drove me back to the hospital. I was rounding the corner when all of a sudden there were a bunch of people coming, the nurse said they had been trying to call me his time was short, and this was it. I went to his room, and sure enough my family wasn’t too far behind in joining me, and we all made our way over to him to let him know we were there. When it was my turn, I took his hand and said I was there just like a promised. He squeezed my hand, took a breath, and then he was gone. My Aunt dropped me off at my house that night, and would get with me about the funeral arrangements.

I have to say everything that could go wrong in getting to the funeral did. Dennis had to cover for his manager, then once we could go we couldn’t find the gravesite, so we ended up just going to my Uncle’s house and waiting for everyone to get there. Even though I missed the services, I was able to be with family and friends and hear some good stories about him growing up, and even some about my bio mother. She was a piece of work from the get go from my understanding. In the end he was remembered for the good he did on Earth. Always helping others out, no matter how things were in his life, much like my father. The legacy of the Graham family still lives on in my own children today, the life from my bio father, and the love from my father which holds us all together. We will always move forward, and we will always rise to the top, no matter what the circumstances.

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I was just starting to write another part when I thought I should go back and explain why most of our family would not help out when my father asked them too. See the family had been through so much with my bio parents and the kids already I think they just wanted to wash their hands as much as possible and not get involved. Like I said once I was adopted I heard family talking about the adoption and about how my bio parents were. The stories were pretty bad, they had moved out of places that had to be set on fire because they were so filthy, my bio mother would hand my siblings over to  family members to take care of  for a while, and then call the police and say they had kidnapped the child. So my family really did want to help but the mess my bio parents made for them caused them to give up. I am not sure how CPS worked back in the late 60’s early 70’s but apparently even worse than they do now. I have watched countless movies about neglect and abuse cases, and read my share of books too, but even with all of that I am left saying why didn’t anyone do anything.

I know our family tried, the police were involved, and there were hospital records when the family had to take some of my siblings in for medical care because when they had them, they had come with illness, and physical damage. Where was the justice for all of my siblings? Even my adoptive parents were apart of the damage control before they got me, they just never gave up.

I remember hearing my parents and my brothers talk about before they got me, when my bio parents had my siblings. My father made it a point to go there and bring food for the kids to eat, and treats for them too. On more than one occasion he would see my bio father beating on my siblings, and he would take care of business, most of the time taking one or more of the kids home with them for a while, until the police came by and they he would have to send them back. My brothers loved to play with my siblings but they hated going to their house. I will have to make a point to talk to them more on this subject and get their input on how they felt and what they saw. I remember them saying that sometimes they just stayed in the car while my parents visited, so they wouldn’t have to go into the filth.

It is said that instead of doing laundry my bio mother would wait until they got to being rags before just putting a new outfit on them. The kids were allowed to urinate, and void anywhere they chose and that there were messes everywhere. I am thinking much like one of those hoarding shows which explains a lot. The kids were not bathed, and my parents even brought my sister who found me through a phone call to the hospital because her shoes had been tied on so tight and for so long that her feet had begun to grow into the sneakers. She almost had to have her feet amputated and still has problems with her feet, although I have seen her feet and they are quite cute like mine just smaller.

Another of my sisters had to be taken to the hospital because there had been maggots eating into her neck, she had been laid in a crib with garbage and her bottles and the underside of her neck was not washed or dried so it started to rot. The Dr.’s even said that even though the maggots were bad they had probably saved her life by eating the rotted flesh so that the infection didn’t spread as far as it should have. This story would explain why I am now so obsessed with making sure my kids shoes fit right, and always checking under their necks. I also have to clean the whole kitchen before I can prepare meals  for my family.  Just a few of the many things that rule my days and haunt my dreams.

In one of the said houses that were burned they claimed to have found  the body of a boy in a closet, but since there were no missing children I don’t think they ever pursued it. Makes you really wonder what kind of law system was in place at this time. I think that child abuse was for the first time being brought out into the light in many areas and people really didn’t know how to handle it and most of the time just decided to ignore it all together. Easier to live with thinking everything is fine then doing something about it. I think maybe even some didn’t do anything because they were hiding their own family imperfections. How could you help someone else out when this sort of thing might have went on in your home while growing up. Wasn’t it normal?  Now I am not talking about everything but most people never know the whole story about anyones upbringing, so they only get bits and pieces and make their own judgements from that .

It really is a sad world because today you can just call a number, make an accusation, without any penalty of being  wrong or having a justified means of making a call in the first place, even maybe just doing it to get back at someone, or cause pain where there needn’t be any. The system is far from being perfect and as you have heard with our Bryan the system is still letting the kids fall between the cracks. I have a really good one for you all, how about the workers who come to your home who have no kids themselves. I don’t think you should be able to become a worker unless you have had several kids of different ages under your care so you can better be able to evaluate the situations you may walk into on one of those calls. Although most of us have heard of the CPS case workers in NYC who had their own children taped down with all kinds of  other abuse going on  while they were out and about deciding what to do with other families. Who knows maybe they learned a thing or two from those houses they investigated to rear their own children. It just sickens me.

In today’s society kids kind of rule the house so to speak, if you yell at them you are causing emotional problems, if you spank them it is physical abuse, and the list goes on and on. Now I understand beating, not feeding, molesting, being a problem, but I know when I grew up as most of you do too, if you swore at your parents or talked to an elder disrespectfully you were in for a face smacking. I am not talking about  a tooth flying out of your mouth or broken jaw punch but a slap on your face since that is where the infraction came from. I think we learned really fast you don’t speak that way to adults. I can attest that my parents did not spank on a regular basis and I can count on one hand how many times I was hit and one was by a babysitter who never watched me again who moved away fairly quickly after the incident, one was a reaction when I dropped a log on my father’s head,  once when I swore at my parents when I had a very high fever, another from a boy at school and once from my husband, that was his one and his two is him out that door and he knows that very clearly. Now I can tell you I threw some terrible tantrums when I was little always in the comfort of own home but I can tell you as a parent I would have smacked my own bottom, but then again I did come out ok so who am I to judge my parents. They gave love unconditionally and that is more than most kids get these days. No wonder they think they can threaten their parents and play with their buttons emotionally. Remember folks the kids today are the rulers of tomorrow, and we wonder why the world is so messed up.

I am sure abuse will go on for centuries yet, and we still haven’t seen the worse. Yes my siblings and I had it pretty bad, but there are children dying out there from parents who don’t know how to cope with raising kids much less deal with their own emotions and insecurities. Many learned how to parent from their parents, family members, neighbors or even gag TV.  We need a system that is there to support those in need, teaching them along the way but also letting them make some of their own choices along the way. No one wants to be just like someone else, oh but that is one of the problems too. People get so caught up with wanting what someone else has, or having to do it like so and so, that they forget who they are along the way, getting frustrated and taking it out on their kids. Time for a change but how do we start? I don’t know but my story is long from being finished.

Next week we will meet another of my siblings.

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I am sure everyone feels it from time to time that hole in your heart that just can’t be filled. Soon as I knew I was adopted I would always look at other kids wondering if there were maybe my siblings. I expected them all to look like me but would in later years figure out that some of them look like my Grandmother, with blonde hair sometimes with a bit of red, blue eyes, or my Grandfather who had black hair and brown eyes. Of course I am sure there are bits and pieces of my bio mother’s family in there but I really don’t like to think much about that part. I grew up with my bio father’s side so I tend to talk about them a bit more, mainly out of comfort level.

I always felt like a part of me was missing, and nothing quite ever made that feeling go away. I was loved unconditionally from my parents, and they tried to give me everything they thought I needed. I often wonder if I would have had that feeling of missing something if I hadn’t known I was adopted. I am told that even before I found out, I would ask if I had a twin somewhere, and my mom kind of knew from that sooner or later I was going to figure it out on my own anyways.

Things helped a bit when my brother, and then my oldest sister came in and out of my life, but also left me wondering, why God had spared me so much pain and left my brothers and sisters in turmoil, or a state of limbo. I know now that I did have pain just a different kind of pain. I always felt like part of me was missing and that part was them. I don’t think I have ever gone down the line of kids in our family. So I will take a moment to do that for you. There is my half-sister who my bio mother had, my oldest sister, my oldest brother, my next brother (he had a twin as well), then another sister, then a brother, a sister, me, then a younger sister and brother. That makes 10 plus the twin, and another maybe 2 twins making us 13 all together. I was once told there were 14 of us but I can’t fit that number in there anywhere from other sources.

When I had finally thought I had a hold of my life and where I was going something  came along and opened up the door once again into my dark past. That night after my parents had turned in for the evening, I was still up doing homework, when the phone rang. I got up answered it and someone on the other line asked by name for my biological mother. I said she didn’t live here and promptly hung up. I remember wondering why would someone be calling here for her. Our number was listed under my Father and Mother’s name. By this time in my teen years I had heard pretty much all of the stories about my bio family from my family, and anyone else who knew them, so hearing her name did not bring good feelings to my heart. So a few minutes go by and the phone rings again.

When I picked up the phone it was the same person who asked me if I knew her, I said yes she was my Aunt. She then asked about my bio father, I said I knew him too he was my Uncle. She then asked if I knew how to reach them. I told her I didn’t but I am sure my parents could but they were sleeping could she call back. She then said that would be fine, and that she said she was trying to find her bio parents. My jaw dropped open and I blurted out, then we are sisters, who are you? She told her name and I said yes you are my sister I am Pamela.

Well what should have been a short conversation turned into a long conversation. We talked for hours, and over the years to come she would call, and we would write letters back and forth to each other. Oh my there was so much we had in common. blonde hair, blue eyes, we were both good in school, we liked the same kind of things, and had the same set of goals we wanted to accomplish during our lives. That day would mark a bit of my heart being put back together. She had found me my sister who is a little over 2 years older than me.

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In my earlier post I wrote about how it might feel when an adoptive child comes into the home where there are already children from one or both parents in the family unit. When my parents brought me into their home my mother had already had  seven children, six boys and one girl who died shortly after birth from her first marriage. To her I was the little girl she never had, and to my father who had no children I was his one and only child. Sure he tried to be the father for my brothers, but just like most kids, they don’t realize how much a step parent can really care until it is much too late. I could write a whole story about my mother’s upbringing and her life with her first husband as well, then another for the life with my father and another about her life long battle with a rare, family disease, but I will leave that for another time.

Today we will talk about how I felt growing up and having my brothers not treat me so well. Sure there were times when they were nice to me. As I was the youngest with my nearest brother being 12 years older than me and my oldest brother being 18 years older than me, they were very used to life with out a sister in tow. When I came into the picture it wouldn’t be long before my oldest brother had his first child, his own battle with the family disease and a life that most would never choose to live. My youngest brother was my keeper, when my mom was sick it was up to him to keep an eye on me. I remember on the days when my mother wasn’t feeling well, he would scoop me up, into my Red Radio Flyer Wagon, and away we would go for the day.

We would go on nature walks, to a place where he helped an elderly couple out, and fishing. I am sure he didn’t like to look after me when he could have been hanging out with his friends, but I don’t think he realizes even though he wasn’t always that nice to me, my memories of him are very dear to me. I always felt like my brothers were jealous of me for having two parents who were together and loved me. They had parents that loved them, they just were not together. By the time my mom got me she was a weathered mother and could start with a clean slate. Things she did while married to her first husband, were not always her choices, but things she was forced to do, to get through life in one piece.

I remember always telling on my brothers when they did wrong, and they would get yelled at by my mom or dad. I also remember them teaching me to play basketball and throwing the ball at my face until I learned how to catch. You learn really quick when someone does that to you, and then telling my mother is was an accident so they wouldn’t get yelled at. I remember them tying me up in a blanket and putting me in the attic for God only knows how long. Although I was a child I am sure it wasn’t as long as it felt. They even hung me out a second story window by my feet. Boy did mom jump all over them for that one. Then they would wonder why my father yelled at them. I am sure I was a pest, most little kids are with their older siblings. I just wanted to fit in, I wanted them to love me.

As I got older I remember the day I was up in their room, and came running down to ask my mom why they  had bags of grass in their room. That is what they called it. Boy I never realized the problems that would cause. A whole lot of yelling I can tell you that.  I also remember when they kicked or pushed me down a flight of stairs. I must have been about 18 months or so no more than two. The things you remember happening to you. Everything they have done to me over the years, and I still love them more than they will ever know. Even after my parents deaths when I see them in the store, some will shy away, while others will stop and talk a bit. Me of course wonders if  they stop and talk because they care or if they just do it out of respect for my mother. Either way I enjoy it while I can.

I have two of my 6 brothers that I didn’t even really know until after the death of my mother. I knew of them, the story why they were not with my mother, but really nothing else. Actually my daughter made friends at school with one of  their daughters, and when I heard the name I had to call the parents and explain who I was and how they wanted to proceed. Well they now know each other as cousins, which makes me very happy to say the least. Although when we are at school functions my brother and I haven’t really even talked to each other, we just do the nod thing. I have to work on this area, and see where it goes. My own battle in a way.

Like I said before even with the mean things they did to me, I still love them. I could tell you a bit about each of them, they all have very beautiful children who I consider my nieces and nephews. All together we gave my mother and father a bunch of grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I would have to take a few minutes to come up with the exact numbers, but a big family none the less, if only we could all love each other as such and look beyond the imperfections we could all make one of my mothers dreams come true.

Years of being around my brothers I learned to do a job right the first time, to carry on no matter what gets in my way, not to let fear get the best of me, to never give up, and to always strive to do better. Some of my love of music comes from my brothers, my love of art came from my brothers. If they ever read this I am sure they remember the paintings they did on the garage walls, and their bedrooms. Amazing really. I wish I had pictures to show every one of  this. I think all of my brothers have a flare for some sort of art. I also learned things that I would never do like smoking or doing drugs. I also learned not to become dependant on drinking.

So yes I was saved from a home of abuse, but in that I was damaged emotionally from my new siblings. Do I love them? Yes I do. Did I learn from them? Yes I did. Do they love me? I don’t really know. I do know that even though I have biological  siblings, the siblings I grew up with play a much bigger role in my life out of closeness. I have always felt like my heart is in pieces, and that there is a hole somewhere that can’t be filled by anyone, anywhere, anytime. Knowing God has helped but I still have a long way to go. In writing my book I hope to find the answers while putting back the pieces of my heart and filling in the void I feel inside. 

 

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I promised you all I would go back to my oldest bio sister and tell a little bit more about her. I really do have to apologise because of not using names this may get a bit confusing, but when the book comes out there will be names just not the real names.

When we were taken away my oldest bio sister, and my sister who is the next oldest to me. ended up in a foster home together, where the abuse went on, they were nothing more than kids to push around, and told pretty much that they were unloved, unwanted, and not needed. I believe they were moved apart from each other several years later, and placed separately, it could have been a shorter time though. I do know however by the time my oldest bio sister was 13, my other bio sister and I had been adopted to families, while my oldest sister was left in the system.

At the ripe age of 13 the family she was staying with had a son who happened to rape my sister, causing her to get pregnant. She birthed twin boys who were taken away from her, after this she was pretty much thrown out to any family as a troubled teen. Imagine now she has had three babies torn from her. By the time she was 16 she fell in love with some man who promised her the world. He did marry her and then put her right out on the streets to make him money by prostituting. Soon came the alcohol addiction. I can not say for sure if she turned to drugs. I don’t think she ever did. Oh and she never could have kids, they had messed something up inside her when she had the twins, so her heart would always have that hole that couldn’t be filled.

While I was growing up from time to time after she located my parents she would find a way to sneak away and spend some time with my mom and dad, visiting. Of course she was only able to come when she was sober which wasn’t too often, so the times were far and in between. By the time I was say 12 years old an older gentleman named Dave came into the picture who knew the family on our paternal father’s side, and tried to help her out. I am not sure how they actually met and probably don’t want to know the details. I do know that he got her a way from her Husband, and the life she was leading. For a few years she would yo-yo back and forth between being with him, and get this actually seeking out our bio parents. As if the abuse wasn’t enough my bio mother filled her head full of more lies and messed with her head even more.

My sister had a rough life, but the times she had with me I would like to say were some of her happier moments in life. When she was with Dave and sober I even spent  some time at their house. We went out to eat together, and they even took me to a few tourist attractions in our area. I remember from time to time my sister would have dolls. How she got them was a whole different matter.

If she happened to be in a store where they sold dolls, and her mind snapped back to when I was in that plastic bag in the box, she would rip the doll out trying to save it, therefore Dave would buy that doll to take home for her. Imagine a grown women walking around with a baby doll all dressed up, and the stares she got. I remember when she came to church with it and the attention she got over it. Once people knew why she did it, they didn’t bother with it, but couldn’t they have just loved her for who she was instead of dwelling on her few flaws?

I remember us being up late at night and she would stroke my hair as if I was still a baby and sing to me. I would never realize how much I would miss the contact between us until years later. By this time I was growing up, had gotten married, and had my first son. I probably will never know how much joy she felt the day she held my son in her arms for the first time. She was totally struck with him, but Dave’s health was failing, as he became increasingly more sick, until his death ended up dying, which left her pretty much alone again. For a few years my family stepped into help her and she soon found a man that she married, and then moved away with.

Our phone contacts after this time were few and far between, when one day she called me and told me this was her last call to me. That she would always love me, to give the kids hugs and kisses from her and to let them know that she loved them very much. By the time I got the last call from her, I had 3 of my own children, and Bryan. She told me after the last visit my younger sister had made up there, her husband never wanted her to have contact with any family members again.

I actually just found out that my sister who is the next oldest to me was in contact with her as well during this same time, and their contact too  was all of a sudden severed. See not only did my oldest sister save me but she protected my next oldest sister from many beatings herself, so like me my other sister feels a strong bond to her. We have both tried to find her over the years, and the only clue we have is from my 2nd or 3rd cousin because there was a photo put up with her children, and my sister, with their baby.

I contacted her and she won’t give any information out. Says my sister doesn’t want any contact. My sister and I don’t believe that at all. It has been 12 years now, so many things have changed, we want her to be a part of our lives, and someone so close has the information and won’t tell anyone. One day I hope my sister reads this or someone who knows where she is and will contact us, so we can be reunited once again.

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I left you with my bio younger sister walking away with Bryan during the parade.

 

So here I was left with my two little girls, and my husband and son were still marching in the Parade. I left right away to get to our car, put the girls in, drove home, leaving my son and husband at the Parade. I ran in grabbed the phone and called the sheriff like I was told and asked for the on-call CPS person. I was switched through, told them what happened. They said they would be going down right away to her apartment. I told them I had to go back to the parade and pick up my son and husband they said that would be fine, to call them when I got back. I picked up Dennis and Buke, of course my son was like Mommy did you see me in the Parade? I had to tell him I hadn’t because I had to take care of something with Bryan.

When we got home I called the Sheriff back and told him we were home, they said they were in her apartment and that they would be coming to our house soon. I am not sure what time it was, but I do know the kids were asleep as well as my husband. A CPS worker came with Bryan handed him to me, had me sign a few papers, they had to look in our cabinets to make sure we had food, we had plenty.

I have to step back a bit to when I first came in contact with Bryan and my Bio sister, when she had just gotten him back from him being taken away the first time.  At 9 months of age he could pull himself to a standing position. By the time we got him when he was 14 months old he couldn’t pull himself to stand and could only scoot on the floor. See my sister had him strapped into a stroller for so long he didn’t get to move around like he should have. I will tell you though with Prayer from everyone around us he was walking in about two weeks, because we gave him the freedom of moving around and about like a toddler should. I know I am a little off on the time frame I would have to get my notes out, but I can tell you that By August 13th 1998 we had full custody of Bryan with visits with his bio parents.

I could really go on and on with Bryan’s story which really needs a whole set of books on its own. I have left out much detail of the abuse we saw along the way and really dealt with up until just recently. Right now we are healing as a family from all that has gone on and it will take time. You will see Bryan’s mom pop up  a few more times in this story, like I said the Siblings Separated thing repeated itself in another generation.

For Part 10 I am going to be jumping back to my child hood and meeting my sister who saved me. I know you all have been waiting to hear more about her.

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Summer was just around the corner and it was nice outside, the kids were playing outside, and I was relaxing on the porch, when I heard the phone ringing. It was my husband on the phone. He said that they had just arrested my sister at his job for theft, and since people there knew she was my sister that I should call DSS. I called them and they asked if we could take care of him I said ok, no problem. I ended up having Bryan again a few weeks as once his mother was released she went pretty much to another store and got arrested again.

A few weeks later my oldest bio half-sister called me and told me my bio mother had died. She wanted me to give some money for the burial, I told her no way she might have given birth to me but she was not my mother. I believe they did put my name and maybe even my kids names in the death announcement, not sure because I didn’t pick up the paper to see if they did or not. I did how ever find out that not only did she die in my younger sisters house, but that she had sat there for days, at least long enough for my sister to get her SSI check before it was turned in. My younger sister saying she didn’t know what to do when she died. She was scared.

A few weeks went by and my husband called me again, saying that someone from DSS had called his job looking for me, and it was urgent. I called them back right away to find out that my sister had gone down to DSS saying someone stole her food stamps for the third time that month, if you remember they use to be like paper money.

While she was there, a call came in that there had been complaints about a horrible smell coming from her home. Since it was Summer and there was garbage everywhere in her home, which they knew about , what did they think it was going to be? Well when the people who run the complex got permission to go in, they had people outside vomiting, and ones who refused to even go back into the apartment. Since DSS was paying her rent they had put her and Bryan up in a women’s shelter because she couldn’t enter her home with Bryan until it was clean. They wanted me to care for Bryan while she was cleaning her home. I said let me call my husband to see if he is ok with this and I will call you right back. Dennis said yes right away, I called back and they said they would be out to drop Bryan off in a little while.

My sister had been dropped off at her apartment before they dropped Bryan off to me. We had a little meeting her worker, a worker for Bryan, and I believe there was someone else present too. I signed some papers, they handed me another voucher, and off they went. I smelled something quite bad and said boy you laid one hell of a stinky. He looked up at me and smiled. I laid him down and opened his diaper, and tears welled up in my eyes. I had never seen anything like what I was looking at. He was open sores and bleeding from the top of his belly button all the way up and around to the top of his buttocks. I was afraid to even try to wipe him, and wondering how he wasn’t crying.

I literally left him there laying on the floor, and called DSS back. They told me they were no available. I said get them on the phone now, that they needed to come back to the house right away. Like I said I pretty much started to change his diaper the minute they were  out the door, so they were back pretty quick. When they came back he was still laying there. When they came in the lady took one look at him and said go get the camera to the other person. The first thing they did was take pictures, the second thing they did was get permission to take Bryan to the Dr.’s without her permission. I was on the phone to get Dennis to come home from work to watch our kids, so I could go with DSS and take Bryan to the Dr.’s.

Two things happened that I will never forget. One was that why in the hell didn’t they check Bryan’s body out before they handed him over to me. Two was when the Dr. came into see Bryan, he didn’t touch him, comfort him, or really have any sympathy for him, he just stood by the door and said he has a very bad infection, and that he probably had not been cleaned for weeks. That would take it back to the last time that I had seen him and told her he had a rash, and when I had told DSS about the living environment they were in, and that Bryan had a rash. Which meant nothing had been done when I called before. Bryan also had bruises and scabs all over his body.

I returned home with Bryan, ointment for his body, and directions from DSS if my sister asks for him back to give him back, but then call them right away. They even gave me the weekend emergency number. He could not return until her house was clean. All I could think about was what about the damage to his body?

When I entered the house Dennis said we need to go to the store now. I said why? He said because he is not going to drink out of  this. He holds up the bottle and she must have been just refilling his bottle over and over again, because the bottle was moldy, and the nipple hole had been cut bigger and was like someone stuck a Philips head screw driver in it caked with black mold. The second time that day I wanted to scream. How on earth could someone do this to a child. I also had to wash his clothes which were still stained up when they came out of the wash.

A few days later there was a parade and my son and Dennis were in it, so I was on the sidelines with Bryan, Dennise, and Samantha. Don’t you know it the kids are having a grand old-time and my sister walks up to me. A few minutes go by and she asks me where his bottle is. O told her he didn’t drink from a bottle anymore that he drinks from a sippy cup now. She didn’t like that at all, and demanded I not only give her him, but his bottle that she sent with him. I told her we had thrown it away, so she took the sippy cup he was drinking from grabbed him, and walked away from me.

 

 

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I left you last week with “Soon after she got him back, she would look me up and enter our lives. Up until now in my mind except for the one visit from another sister (which will come later in my story), she was my cousin.”

As luck would have one day while my parents were shopping they ran into my younger sister who had been adopted by another set of family members. She asked what I was up to and my parents kindly told her just over there, and told her the number of my trailer. She showed up one day at of the blue. Me wanting to know more about my sibling, looked forward to having her over.

The first time she came over everything was fine. My third child Dennise and her first child Bryan were only 17 days apart. We had the same bio parents and knew everyone in our adoptive families, and not much about our bio mother’s side. Other then that we really didn’t have all that much in common.

The second time she came over she asked if we could watch Bryan, we said sure. Besides I was use to taking care of kids as that was my primary job. Well the time went by when she was supposed to be back to get him. He was out of bottles as he was only 9 months old, so Dennis ran over to walmart and picked up a can of formula for him. I breastfed and I wasn’t that comfortable with my sister so this was a short time answer.

The night ticked on by, I tucked Bryan into sleep with all of the other kids. I was worried, didn’t have anyone to call to get a hold of her, and it was getting pretty late. I paced the floor, called my parents, told them what was going on. They told me to go to bed and she should be back the next day to get him.

Morning came and went with another run to the store for a can of formula. Afternoon came and I called DSS to see if someone there could help me out. They didn’t know how to contact her, but her adult supervisor would look for her. They asked if he could stay with us until she showed back up. I told them yes he could and they offered me some kind of voucher to purchase formula, diapers, and baby-food for the Bryan at the store, which was really nice, but made me think how often does something like this happen, that they had the funds for this right away?

She showed up the following day to pick him up, with an excuse that I can’t even remember now as they all kind of blend together at this point. Only a few really stick out. She continued to do this one and off for a couple of months, the longest time that she left Bryan with us was for two weeks no one saw her, or knew where she was. We had found out where she lived and no one was even home there.  When she finally showed up I told her that Dennis didn’t want me anywhere near her anymore, as apparently we were only someone who she could pawn her child off on, and it was messed up, and even having its toll on Bryan.

The few times that I got to see what her apartment looked like inside was no bed of roses I can tell you that. I even called her worker telling them that something needed to be done. She said that she looked in on her a few times a month, and my sister was trying to get things done. I even watched him a few times when she said she was doing just this, to drop him off later and find nothing looking better.

So a couple of more months went by without me seeing or hearing from her, me being worried about Bryan and how he was doing was keeping me up at night, so Dennis tole me to take a trip down and check on him. Well I brought the kids with me all three of them and told Buke and Samantha to stay in the car. I took Dennise in with me and knocked on the door. When she opened the door the smell made my eyes tear up and my nose was twitching.

I told her I wanted to check up on them and see that they were alright. On top of piles of garbage bags to the ceiling and no place to step without stepping on something, I see on a chair, my bio mother sitting there with a big smile on her face. Soon as she saw me she kept going on how I looked like so and so from her side, and just filling my head with nonsense. Her tricks might have worked on my younger sister and some of my older siblings but she wasn’t getting to me.

My purpose for being there was to check on Bryan and Bryan alone. He was sitting in a corner on top of a pile of dirty clothes. I held onto Dennise while picking him up, to find that he had a diaper so full of crap, and pee that it had exploded and was running down his leg and all over me. I asked if she had any diapers in which she answered. I haven’t had any for a couple of days. I placed him back down took Dennise out to the car, grabbed her diaper bag, strapped her in her car seat, asked my son to watch her and if anyone came near the car to honk the horn.

I marched right back inside and said here you can have our diapers, in which my sister replied I am not changing that. I said fine, picked him up and started up the stairs to her bathroom, so I could give him a bath. Holly crap her toilet was overflowed all over tons of clothes and toilet paper, the tub was full of wet clothes with mold all over the place. I could get down her hall to even check to see if there was a cleaner spot so I went back down the stairs, cleaned off a spot on her opened fold out couch that was piled high with garbage bags, and dirty clothes.

While opening his diaper I asked why there was so much garbage. She said she liked to go dumpster diving. I said most people do that and only bring the good stuff home and not whole bags. I told her she had a dumpster right outside. She said she was scared to go out and put the garbage in by herself. Really I was thinking to myself….but you can go out and Dumpster dive in the middle of the night? So I open Bryan’s diaper up and boy is it a mess, I only had a few wipes but he had one hell of a rash, and I couldn’t get him as clean as I would have liked. I grabbed the cleanest thing I could find and went to the kitchen while holding him to get the piece of clothing wet so I could clean him better. There were maggots, and cockroaches everywhere at it was daylight out. I couldn’t even get to the sink so I wiped him off the best I could, put some A&D ointment on him, his diaper, handed her my whole diaper bag, and said get to the store and get him what he needs. I gave Bryan a kiss and set him down.

I went straight to where my husband worked and told him what I had just seen. He told me to call her worker, they would have to do something. I went home gave my kids a snack and told them Mommy needed to make an important phone call. I called got her worker on the line and was given we are doing the best we can, she just got him back a few months ago, it is taking her some time to get used to it all, and yadda yadda. When I did get off the phone I wasn’t sure what they would do if anything. I prayed that night pretty hard that something would be done.

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I left you with “So my younger sister and brother were of all things taken in by another Uncle and his wife. They thought since I had come out fine then this set would too, boy where they in for the ride of their lives.”

My Aunt and Uncle had to keep a constant eye on them from the get go, they were very delayed in learning, and later to find out one was mildly retarded. As time went by with constant supervision my sister did ok. They even took in more foster kids. That is when the found out about the problem they didn’t expect. My younger brother began molesting the kids they were bringing in, so they ended up putting my younger brother into a boys home. As time went by and the other kids got services to help them out, my Aunt became very ill and battled Cancer for quite a few years until there was really nothing left to her body, they had cut out much of what they could without killing her from taking a major organ. While she was battling Cancer my uncles insurance said they could not cover both the Cancer treatments, and the facility that my younger brother was in so they had to sign him back over to the state.

 My Aunt would die a few years later, and then again all hell would break loose. My sister with no one to keep a constant eye on her began to steal, sneak out of the house, and with her being 21 she got with a 15-year-old boy and got pregnant. My family said she had to leave. They pretty much dis-owned her when this happened. They tried to keep her away from the father of the baby as he was bad news all on his own without my sisters help. Time went by and she hadn’t told anyone else she was pregnant and one time threatening to kill herself she was put on the Psychiatric Ward, where they would pump her full of drugs before she told them that she was pregnant.

She was 6 months to be exact. I am not sure what she went through there, but they did let her out, DSS helped her get a place to live, and prenatal care. I have heard from someone who was there during the birth that when it came time to push she got off of the bed and hid under a table (explains a lot of things later). She gave birth to a baby boy.

Around three weeks into the baby’s life, there would be something going on and when questioned by CPS, she literally threw the baby across the room at the worker who caught the baby, and from that time removed him out of her care. She would go through the almost 9 months of  services and classes to gain her son back again. Soon after she got him back, she would look me up and enter our lives. Up until now in my mind except for the one visit from another sister (which will come later in my story), she was my cousin.