Chosen

Chosen. That word perfectly describes me and my brother. As kids, we were chosen. But it didn't start out that way.

We were born almost four years apart. We have the same mother but different fathers. From the time he was a teenager, my biological father was in and out of jail or prison. The story is that he loved me very much. But he loved drugs more. So it was no surprise that after I was born he couldn't stay out of trouble. I saw him off and on between incarcerations. He'd come by to tell me he loved me and bring me my favorite candy bar: a Butterfinger. I never visited him in jail. We wrote letters back and forth. I definitely received more letters than face-to-face visits. Letters and Butterfingers. Those are what I remember of him. I don't remember what he looks like, how he sounds, or any distinguishable thing about him. If I saw him in public, I probably would walk by without noticing.

My brother's dad wasn't much of a winner either. I was a toddler when he entered the picture. In the beginning, he didn't seem so bad. He was decent to me and my mother. But after they married, things sort of changed. He became lazy. My mother worked outside the home making enough money to barely survive while he ran around with his friends and partied. He never worked. He never babysat me. He didn't clean house. All of that was left up to my mother and grandparents. After my brother was born, everything got worse. He took no interest in being a father to my brother. He and my mom separated and he was given a year to take interest in my brother or they'd divorce. It should be no surprise to anyone reading this that a year later my mother was filing papers.

Twice my mother had been left by the fathers of her children to raise them on her own. But all of that soon changed... when she met my dad. My brother was two and I was almost six. She met him in Hawaii. He was in the Navy but close to the end of his contract. They fell in love. And so did my brother and I. He was so friendly and kind to us. We loved him from the very beginning. I knew he was going to be my new daddy. As time went on, we created an amazing bond. I loved him so much I started signing his last name as my own on school papers. And that's when it happened: We were chosen.

My brother's father still wanted nothing to do with my brother. My biological father was still in and out of jail. I refused to acknowledge any other last name as my own (which became confusing for my teachers). My dad did the only sensible thing to do: he adopted us. He CHOSE us as his. He chose us to be his children... he as our father on our birth certificates and us with his last name. We knew we had already been chosen from the day he met us. But adopting us set it in stone. We were chosen and now everyone would know.

When a parent steps away or shows little interest in you, your initial reaction is to feel hurt. Children often wonder what they did "wrong" to make their parent "not want" them. Older children often react with anger... toward the parent who left and even toward the parent they may believe "drove away" the other. Eventually, the child may be introduced to a new step-parent, which can create a whole new array of negative feelings and ideas.

I'm writing this so that other people who have step-parents or have been adopted can have a new way of looking at their situation. When a non-biological parent steps in, it's a matter of choice. This new parental figure knows your mother or father has children. This new parent understands that you and your mom/dad are a package deal... and he or she accepts that.

Understand that when you have a step-parent or have been adopted, it's because you've been chosen. Good, bad, pretty, ugly... your new parent knows who you are and accepts you and wants you. He or she has chosen to be your dad or mom.