Your Real Sister

Yesterday was Emmy's first day at daycare. No, I didn't cry when I dropped her off.

I was a bit concerned and nervous that she might be scared or upset, though I tried not to show it.

I tried to be very animated and excited. I made my eyes get big as I talked about the playground equipment and all the cool kids she was going to meet. I even tried to make nap time sound exciting. Epic fail, by the way.

Emmy seemed a little apprehensive as we dropped her off but Jonathan grabbed her hand and immediately began running through the building with her securely in tow yelling about this, that and the other Emmy needed to go see.

Emmy actually turned her head to me and shook her head at me as if to say, "Kids." or "Can you believe this?"

I left feeling pretty confident that things would go well. After all, Emmy had her brother with her.

When we got the kids home, they were running around talking a mile a minute about this, that and the other and I was so relieved that things seemed to have gone well.

As I was cooking dinner however, I noticed both the kids standing near the short stairs leading into the kitchen. They were whispering and eyeing me in what I'm sure they thought was a surreptitious manner.

I finally turned around and asked them what was up.

Jonathan nudged Emmy forward and she began speaking though she was looking at just about anything in the kitchen but my face.

"Mommy. Um. This boy, um, there was this boy at school and he, um, he told me, he said that, um...he said that Jonathan wasn't my brother."

Now the Monkey chimed in:

"Yeah, Mommy. He said Emmy's not my sister."

And both sets of big eyes, one a deep creamy brown and one a crackling blue are staring intently at me.

It was time to put down the spoon and just pray the food survived a few minutes pause.

I sat down on the stairs for easy eye contact and explained.

"Well, that boy was wrong. You know how sometimes you really think something? Like you see a toy and you think it's going to be really fun but it turns out it isn't? Or you see a food and you think it's going to be sweet and yummy and it isn't?"

Sage nods in reply.

"Well, I'm sure that boy might think Jonathan's not your brother and Emmy's not your sister, but he's wrong. I don't think you should fight with him about it though. One day, he might get the chance to understand that he's wrong but that doesn't matter, does it? You know that Jonathan's your brother, Emmy. Jonathan, you know that Emmy's your sister. That's all that matters, right?"

Two little faces filled with relieved smiles and Emmy immediately turned with the typical elder sibling reaction:

Emmy: See, I TOLD you.
Jonathan: Nu, uh! I told YOU.

I gave them hugs. They ran to the living room to play and dinner miraculously survived its temporary abandonment.

I haven't been able to shake a tugging brought on by the situation and the obviously deep reaction it evoked in the kids. They asked their Daddy about it at dinner, seemingly looking for more reassurance.

My hubby was surprised by how deeply the accusation seemed to have affected them. We talked about it after the munchkins were abed.

Hubby: Why does it matter what one kid thinks? Why does that little thing make them doubt they're brother and sister?

I could feel the answer but had trouble expressing it. I'm still not sure what I said made sense.

See, I've been there. I've been hanging out with my sisters and had some kid or group of kids state with utter conviction that we weren't sisters, at least, not REAL sisters.

That word real always made me so mad. Kids weren't the only ones to use it either.

Adults would often ask the hated question:

"Which are your real kids?"

Okay, ow. Sorry, sibs, you're not real.

My Dad always made a joke out of it. He'd say something like, "Well, they're all real. None of them are plastic."

Mom would just quietly fume, which is her being on her best behavior. I can still see Mom's special smile. It was more like a closed lip grimace and it's the expression she always had when someone asked that question.

Sometimes, Dad's gentle attempt to point out the hurtful nature of the inquiry would fall on deaf ears.

"No, I mean, which ones are really yours and which ones did you adopt?"

Um, Mr. Sensitivity, we're all 'really' theirs. Eventually, Dad adopted the policy of answering the question after tactfully pointing out that we were all real.

Something like this: "They're all real. None of them are plastic but (pointing) that one and that one are our only biological children."

Dad told us he was going to start saying this because he was afraid that Mom might hit someone if they kept asking the even less tactful and more hurtful follow up questions.

We had all sort of learned to smile and nod at the seemingly inevitable question but it never really lost its sting.

So, why does it bother my kids and why did it bother me and my sibs when people would imply or flatly state that adopted siblings aren't "real" siblings?

I'm not really sure, to be honest.

I've been trying to figure it out. I guess you could try to imagine what it would be like if someone said that you weren't really married. Or why most people go through the ceremony and paperwork involved in becoming married. I mean, why do gay people want the right to be married? Because that title makes you family and being family is important. Having someone threaten that relationship or the legitimacy of that relationship is hurtful.

The simple statement is an attack, really. It's attacking your relationship or the legitimacy of the relationship. It's attacking the love you have for each other.

It might have something to do with the nature of foster care and adoption. When we were in the process of adopting we attended functions and met kids. I remember at one summer picnic I met a "potential".

Parents don't go to an orphanage or group home and pick out a kid to take home. The state somehow decides what kids might be appropriate for potential parents. Then they arrange for those parents to spend time with those kids at events. I'd heard that Wanda was a potential and she had somehow heard that we were a potential family for her as well.

We met each other, as I said, at the summer picnic. I think we were six at the time. It was odd. I mean, we were almost literally circling each other, sizing each other up and asking questions. Then, click! We decided we liked each other and spent every second of the rest of the picnic together. We made plans that remind me of the parent trap on how we were going to make sure that Wanda would be my new sister.

It didn't happen. Wanda and her brother were adopted by another couple before my family made our first adoption. I cried into my pillow for days after I found out. I doubt Wanda suffered the same dejection because, of course, she had a new family to think about. Her family and mine ran in the same 'adopt older kids' (A-OK) circles, so we remained friends for a few years until we got older and developed very different interests.

On the other side of it my siblings, of course, had been placed in many foster homes before being placed with us. They had developed attachments and had them severed by the system. It was a painful thing and, even though you know the adoption is final and no one is coming to take them away, it's scary. Somewhere in the dark recesses of your brain is the idea that at one time this person you love wasn't here and maybe at one time they won't be here again.

So, when some mindless adult asks a tactless question, that little fear sends a little jolt through your system, usually resulting in a bit of a stomach ache and some compensatory brash behavior: Laughing a little too loud at something that honestly wasn't that funny, that kind of thing.

It's scary to be a kid and love someone so absolutely but at the same time have this lingering fear, no matter how tiny, that you'll lose that person. Kids shouldn't have to deal with that kind of apprehension and fear. They shouldn't go to bed at night and feel the need to ask their new Mommy, "Will you and Daddy be here when I wake up?" It breaks my heart that Emmy feels the need to ask that.

It breaks my heart that still, the first thing out of Jonathan's mouth in the morning is, "Where's Emmy?" or "Emmy's in her room?"

They love each other so much. They love being brother and sister.

So, I guess that's why someone telling them they're not "real" siblings had such an affect on them....and on me.