I’ve always been pretty open about my childhood. From the time my biological mother lost her rights when I was 18 months old I’ve been different. Always wanting the parents I deserved.
When I was 3 I went to live with my aunt and uncle, my sister Amanda and I were the only two siblings to stay together. I guess you could say we’ve always been pretty attached, so our 3 oldest siblings were all split up between different family members and foster homes.
In my eyes my aunt and uncle are very much my parents. They are all I’ve ever known. In my eyes I will also never be their child. I never have been. The truth about being somewhat adopted but not legally or really all for that matter is the fact that I will never be their child.
They have a son of their own. He moved out of the house long ago but his room is a reminder of the shrine they’ve built around him. left exactly as he left it, his pictures adorn the walls and he’s the topic of just about every conversation. His is their son, I am their niece. I guess only now at 26 am I accepting the reality of what the situation is.
Only now can I accept the fact that my father is dead and I have no mother. I accept the fact that I won’t ever have the parents I deserve. I am parentless but that doesn’t mean I am without family. I have my siblings and the family in which my husband and I created.
My daughters will never feel parentless, they will never not have a mother or father. Even if I can’t give myself the family I always wanted I can give it to my children.
Only now at 26 can I accept the reality of what adoption was, two loving people who took great care for their nieces. I can never thank them enough for that, but I also have to accept the fact that it’s not my fault. I never asked for the life I was given.
I am parentless but my children will never be.