The Adoption

Yesterday in my Gut Instincts Don't Lie article, I was actually thinking of the adoption as my very first true encounter with my own gut instinct with Tom.

Even though he had come into our lives 2 years before the adoption process, I had every reason to believe he was passing with the wind just like every other guy and husband that my mother had up to this point.

From what I was told by multiple sources (Including my mother) she had married my biological father and had me at 18. My brother was born 17 months after me in 1983 and then my parents divorced. I'm not sure when the divorce happened but my sister came along in March of 1985, so my parents got remarried. I was 3 when my sister was born and I was 5 when my parents divorced for their second and final time.

My memories are scarce from that time period but I do have certain core memories that will never be erased. One of them is my mother being engaged to a guy named Brian when I was 5. I guess she bounced back pretty quickly after the divorce but it didn't last long because my youngest brother was born when I was 6 and Brian wasn't the father.

I don't remember leaving Brian's home, I do remember not liking him at all. One day he said something and I remember thinking "You're not my father" and I flipped him off behind his back. Of course my mother saw it and made me confess to Brian and apologize. I did even though my apology was far from genuine.

Anyway, back to leaving Brian's home. I have no memory of that but I do remember being crunched in a tiny yellow car with 2 doors driving from South Florida where we lived, all the way to New Hampshire.

Later in life some people told me that yellow car belonged to Bob (My mother's next husband) and that left me confused because when we arrived in New Hampshire. Bob was just there one morning and mom told me that she met him in a bar and they had gotten married. At the age of 5 I remember thinking "3 marriages and 1 engagement...way to go mom".

I watched as her tummy grew and Bob had clearly moved in with us. It was okay because I liked him. He never tried to be my dad, he was funny and kind.

My youngest brother was born in July of 1988. Mom was jaundice and hospitalized, although I'll never know what for. She was a class A habitual liar and she is now deceased. The day that the hospital discharged her, we were brought to the hospital to pick her up. I just remember her being so yellow, like a highlighter. It was weird for me at 6 years old to try to make sense of what was going on.

Mom walked to the foot of her hospital bed to gather her belongings so we could leave and that's the moment my brother decided that he was going to make his entrance into the world. I watched as her water broke all over the floor. The nurses rushed in and told her to get back in bed and we were shooed out of the room.

Even though we didn't have a car and were on food stamps, I was pretty satisfied this chapter of life. It was more stable than it ever felt in the past. Mom had her 4 kids and Bob had another 2 that came over from time to time and I enjoyed them all.

One day I noticed that Bob hadn't been around much anymore and that put so much more pressure on me. I was 8 year old, cooking, changing diapers, heating up bottles, walking to the store and buying her cigarettes with our food stamps.

When I look back, it's easy to see how this season impacted me from a control and rescuer perspective. When things are out of control and lack structure, I work to create it. Even now.

Somewhere around the age of 9 mom was uprooting us again. We weren't just leaving a home that I loved, we were leaving New Hampshire and going to Haverhill, Massachusetts, which meant I was leaving my friends and a school that I absolutely adored and was so proud to attend. This could be where I started to become a little hardened and resentful.

Haverhill was different. More "hood" than New Hampshire. We lived in one of those homes that had 4 apartments in it. 2 downstairs and 2 upstairs.

Mom was engaged to some guy. I didn't know his name because he never bothered with any of the children. He drove a fast 2-seater sports car and clearly had no intention of becoming a family guy. I was fine with that.

Then came Tom.

The nameless guy was out of the picture and Tom was in. He was a charmer. For Valentine's Day he wouldn't just buy my mom roses, he also bought them for me and my sister. This was the first signs of attention that my sister and I got from any adult that resembled a parent.

He still wasn't my dad and I found myself longing for him. I hadn't seen him since my mother drove away in that little yellow car. I didn't care how much time went by, I wanted to see him.

I mustered up the strength to ask my mother if she would allow me to see my father. To my surprise, everyone agreed and at the age of 10, I boarded a Delta plane all by myself and flew from Boston to Orlando, Florida on my father's dime.

The flight attendants were nice. I felt free but with the security of knowing there were people looking out for me and over me. She pinned me with a set of gold Delta wings and off we set into the clouds.

My dad and his wife Lori met me right at the door of my flight terminal (Yes, you could do that in 1992) with a large bouquet of flowers and tight hugs that took my breath away. I loved it.

We had a visit like no time had passed at all. They took me to Disney World for a few days and for the very first time in my life (All 10 strenuous years) I didn't have a care in the world and could just...be.

Back at their house my stepmom taught me how to correctly fold towels (Which I still do today at the age of almost 44), made me vacuum, which strangely I loved because she had this white fragrance powder that I got to sprinkle on the carpets before vacuuming and I made a game about how to vacuum it.

I'd be home alone each day while dad ran his construction business and my stepmom worked her bank shift. Obviously it was drilled into me to never answer the door or the phone, which I never did but their phone rang like a hundred times a day and it didn't take long before their answering machine recording was permanently engrained into my memory bank, still to this day.

"You've called 340-0142"

I never knew that I would need that phone number someday.

After a week of quiet bliss, good meals and family time, I returned home to the chaos.

Mom sat us down and told us that Tom wanted to adopt us and, she wanted him to. I felt angry and I didn't understand why. Over the years I had seen Bob show up at our house to see his son. Each time mom and Tom would tell him to never come back and slam the door on his face.

One year for my brother's birthday Bob showed up with a large turtle sandbox still in the box. I opened the door and just smiled. I was proud of Bob for showing up, for remembering his son's birthday because the other 3, well, we never received a single gift from my dad and stepmom. (So Tom & mom wanted us to believe. I found out years later that the gifts were returned to sender)

Tom and mom grabbed the sandbox, threatened Bob and sent him on his way, I watched the whole thing. My heart broke for Bob. What was so bad about him having a relationship with his son? Defeat finally won because that was the last time Bob ever came around.

The acid is my stomach gurgled up as I watched Tom and mom carry that sandbox to the backyard and give it to my brother as if it was from them.

So, we sat at the table as we were told that they would be moving forward with the adoption and I was the only one out of the 4 children that had a say in the matter because I was 13. In the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, a 13 year old could decide for themselves. My vote was no. The other 3 kids smiled and acted happy. I never knew if they were genuinely thrilled or playing the part that kept them out of trouble.

Me on the other hand, something was brewing.

I'd listen to my mom speak with the adoption attorney, I'd quietly listen when she gave Tom updates and waited for my opportunity to strike.

"The attorney said that we can run an ad in the classified section of the Florida newspaper for 7 days about the adoption. If no one sees it, we can legally move forward with the adoption"

Like hell!

I waited for the house to be empty and dialed 340-0142 not knowing about area codes but thankfully the operator gave me the right area code and I dialed again. This time someone answered.

Not having talked to them since my return trip home 3 years prior, you'd think it would be a weird conversation but it wasn't. I sung like a canary and told them all about the adoption. They weren't happy, which made me very happy. It meant they cared.

A few days went by and I waited...wondered what would come of my choice.

Mom came home and in that mom voice told me to sit down at the table. I knew shit was about to hit the fan but I was ready for it. She asked me how I could do such a thing and I found myself just being completely honest. "I don't want to be adopted"

She threw the cordless phone against the fridge and it smashed to pieces. Tom liked those wooden paddles, the kind that had a string and a rubber ball attached to it. Only they took the string and ball off of them and kept the paddle on top of the fridge for moments like this.

I got my ass whooped. It hurt. A lot. I just cried thinking none of this is love but, I was trapped. (This is why I attempted to kill myself 3 years later but that's another story)

Mom and Tom found their loophole. My dad was (supposedly) $100,000 behind in child support for us 3 kids. They offered to completely wipe his debt free IF he signed over his rights and allow Tom to adopt us.

He did.

The day in the courthouse we walked into the judge's chambers. He was robed and waiting. The papers were on his desk. We went in order oldest to youngest. Me being the oldest, I begrudgingly walked up, signed my name and walked aside as I watched the happy family sign their names one by one.

My youngest brother (Bob's son) was about 7 so the judge told Tom and mom to hold Kyle's hand and sign it with him. I watched those 3 hands sign as one on the line and felt like I didn't know myself anymore. I was no longer a "Gauthier", I was now a "Holloran" and...I hated it instantly.

Gut instincts are amazing if we listen and choose obedience. Still so much to share.

Til next time,

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