When my father Ethan and stepmother Amy started the almost-two-year process of adopting a baby girl from China, both my fianc? Matt and my best friend Ciera told me, “Well, I think you’re finally ready.” This may seem like an odd thing for them to say, but they were both right-had my dad and Amy begun such a process a few years earlier, I may not have been so “ready” to be a sister. At the time, I had been an only-child for 21 years, and when I was younger had been the poster child for “sibling-less syndrome.”
Some only-children refused to share toys. I refused to share Joey McEntire. Yes, Joey McEntire, otherwise known as the youngest member of the New Kids on the Block. I recall one evening in particular: I was nine, and my younger cousin Alicia and I were swaying back and forth in front of my TV, swooning over a NKOTB videotape.
“Joey’s my favorite,” Alicia murmured, hands clasped in front of her heart.
“What?” I immediately stopped swaying. “He can’t be your favorite.”
“Why not?” She turned to look at me.
“He can’t be your favorite because he’s already my favorite.” I took my gaze off the pegged jeaned form of my beloved and peered out of the corner of my eye, checking to see if she’d buy this logic. I was two years older, after all.
She hadn’t.
“So. Why can’t he be mine too?”
How could I explain this to her? Such a scenario just wasn’t possible, and the thought of it made me furious. He was MINE. My imaginary boyfriend. He-or rather the glossy poster likeness of him-was the one that I kissed goodbye every morning. She could never understand our, well, connection.
“I’m serious. You have to pick another one. What about Donnie? He’s, uh, cute,” I lied, and again looked out of the corner of my eye to see if she had accepted my offer.
She hadn’t.
“Ewww! No, I still like Joey.” She turned back to the video and resumed her swaying, mouthing “Hangin’ Tough” as she rocked back and forth in her pink high-tops. I was becoming frantic.
“Alicia!” I screamed. “Stop it right now!”
“What?” she asked.
“Stop liking him! I said so, and you have to. Now!” I screeched, balling my fists in frustration.
“You can’t make me. He’s my favorite, and I LOVE him!” Utterly enraged by this admission, I flew at her, tackling her to the ground, all the while screaming “He’s MINE!!!”
So my dad and Amy were keenly aware of my once held position as the “poster only-child,” and they made every effort to help me feel involved and important during the long process of adopting my little sister Sally. For example, the room they were preparing for her was also the room that I would stay in when I came to visit, so they tactfully began referring to it as “our” room. When we had a celebration once the adoption referral came through, they gave me a present, and congratulated me on my soon-arriving little sister. While these efforts were incredibly thoughtful, I was sure they were taking unnecessary precaution-I was an adult after all, and had long ago left behind my bratty tendencies. I felt very ready and very excited to be a supportive, fabulous, older sister. I had discovered the joys of Baby Gap, and had to physically restrain myself from buying every single infant item I encountered. I helped to plan the baby shower, color-coordinating the invitations with the lavender paint they had picked for her room. I was ready.
I was in California for the last half of their two-week trip to China to get Sally Marie Shu Mo (Sally is both Dad’s and Amy’s mother’s name, Marie is my middle name, and Shu Mo is her Chinese name), and talked with my absolutely ecstatic (and sleep deprived) father frequently.
“She’s adjusting so well, and is the absolute life of the party. And she was the first baby in the group to poop!” This was, I later learned, a huge accomplishment, as the babies usually have some, uh, issue with the changes and stress and such.
“And she’s so gorgeous, aren’t you, yes you are! Here, do you want to say hi to your big sister?” A serious of beeps and high pitched noises followed as he passed the phone to Sally.
“Um, dad? Hello?”
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
And on and on it went. I was, during this conversation, extremely sick, as the man sitting next to me on my flight to California had coughed repeatedly, infecting me thoroughly, and caused me to spend all but two days of my vacation in bed. When we finally hung up, Ciera, whom I was visiting, searched my face.
“How are they?”
“Oh, fine. I think Sally was trying to hang up on me.”
“No she wasn’t,” she laughed. Ciera has one brother and four sisters, the youngest of which, Olivia, was born when Ciera was 19.
“She’s a genius supermodel in the making, and she was trying to hang up on me.”
“You can’t take anything that a baby does personally-really. You just have to remember that you’re her big sister and she needs you. I’m serious,” Ciera explained.
“What if she hates me?” I asked.
“She’s not going to hate you, I promise.”
I flew home the day after they arrived from China, and Matt and I drove directly to their house.
“Hello?” I called as we walked through the door. I heard them all in the living room, and rounded the corner. I wasn’t, no matter what I had thought, prepared for this moment. Amy held the video camera as my dad held Sally. And Sally looked straight at me. I immediately burst into tears. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And she was hilarious, sweet, and yes, definitely a genius. And being her sister made me the luckiest person on this earth.