Brief Biography of an Adopted Child, and a New Found Brother

From what I have been told numerous times, my three adoptive sisters waited eagerly, excited that they were finally going to get a dog, and a puppy no less! They were the perfect ages for such a treat, eight, twelve, and thirteen, and my adoptive parents had told them they would be back soon with a puppy.

You can imagine their surprise when my parents arrived home and unveiled not a squirming puppy, but an almost two year old, somewhat emaciated toddler. You are probably thinking, "yeahhh, I think my response would have been where's the dog?" Their excitement was even greater than my parents had ever expected or hoped for, after all, what little girl doesn't want to have a baby to care for? From that day onward, my three adoptive sisters babied me, and protected me from the world, inside the house and out, of course with my adoptive parents close attentiveness as well.

I wouldn't learn until years later, being a teenager I believe, what kind of environment I had been rescued from. Abusive and neglectful wouldn't do it justice. My birth mother and father, whom I lived with from birth until around fourteen months, were not the ideal parents, nor did they try to be. My mother was a junkie, and my father was rarely around. I wasn't fed, and thusly failed to gain adequate weight for my age. I had an older brother who lived with us as well, he was two years old when I was born, and our mother frequently would place him in the dryer to punish him, ironically, that's where the department of social services found him when we were both rescued.

My adoptive parents told me in my teenage years as much as they thought a young, fragile teenage boy could handle about my birth parents, and living situation. It wasn't until years later did they tell me of my brother, or how my birth father had repeatedly tried to kidnap me from my adoptive parents, even though they had legally adopted me, and how I had come from such a horrible home. These bits of information were pieced together by me over the years, and I felt somewhat at peace with what I knew, not wanting to really know more, I suppose mainly out of fear of what such knowledge would bring.

Fast forward to two years ago, I am thirty two years old, and it is February thirteenth, the day before valentines day. My wife was at work, and I was watching our beautiful son, when the postman delivered our mail. As I sorted through the junk, I came across a piece of mail that looked rather official, from the Massachusetts department of social services, adoption coordinating center. Confused, I opened it and read with even more confusion that a lady from Mass. DSS wanted to speak with me as soon as possible about an adoption issue.

I thought for a minute. My wife and I had discussed adopting, but it hadn't for the time escalated into actually doing anything about it. My mind reeled at the possibilities as I called the number, and she answered on the first ring. I told her who I was, and why I was calling, and she said, "Tim, your brother is looking for you". I nearly crapped my pants. I repeated what she had just said, like an idiot, over and over. "That's right, your brother started this search two years ago, and had to go through all the legal channels, until this day", she said. "Now it's up to you if you would consent to receiving a letter from him, and his contact info".

A week later, I received another letter from the Mass. DSS, but this time knew exactly what it was. I tore it open, and as I sat on the floor of our house, I read my brothers letter. Tears streamed down my face, the pictures he included even looked a lot like me, and his sons looked just like mine. His contact number and address were included, and I immediately called the phone number. After a few rings, he picked up. "Is this Andy Conway"?, I said. "Yes", I could sense confusion over the phone. "Andy, I think you might know me better as Harland, your brother". "Holy crap", he replied, then the phone went dead.

You can imagine what crossed my mind a hundred times over the next day, when he still would not pick up his phone. I really thought he did not want anything to do with me. It wasn't until a few days later, when he called me, to tell me that not only had he been looking for me for years, when I had called him, he got so excited that he drove into a tree, and wrecked his car.

Two years later, and a lot of time spent together, and I am thankful that I finally have a big brother, even if he did spend lots of time in the clothes dryer growing up.