For as long as I can remember, I have;known;I;was;adopted.;My parents had always told me I was adopted. They would simply
explain, “We did not just have you; we
picked;you.”
I grew up in a rural agricultural town
in eastern Oregon. My dad always said
he;married;“up.”;He;had;been;smitten
with my beautiful, red-headed mother
from;the;time;he;first;saw;her.;He;told;me
how mom always snubbed him in their
youth. He was surprised when a friend
succeeded at setting them up. My mother
told me she had just been going along as
a favor for a girlfriend. As it turned out,
dad won her over. He adored her.
My parents could not have children of
their own. Dad had been content, so he
was surprised when mom suggested adop-tion.;Although;it;took;some;time;to;con-vince him, mom eventually sold him on
the idea. After all, how much trouble could
a;baby;be;to;him?;He;would;go;to;work,
and his bride would be happy with a baby
to;care;for.;With;paperwork;and;some;pro-cessing,;a;trip;to;Portland,;Oregon;brought
my;parents;their;first;daughter.
As is often the case with fathers and
daughters, my sister Lori had our dad
wrapped;around;her;finger;in;seconds.
He;would;reluctantly;go;to;work;in;the
mornings and rush home in the evenings. He had experienced a childhood
of;challenge,;hardship,;and;hard;work.
He;was;mesmerized;by;the;small,;help-less being that had come into his life.
It was only a short time before my par-
ents were considering family expansion
and again began the application pro-
cess. While on a trip to Portland
with my granny and cousin Jim, they
stopped;by;the;orphanage;to;check;on
their application. They were surprised
to learn it could be approved and final-
ized that very day. Throughout their
long wait in the waiting room, they
could hear the occasional cries of ba-
bies. Well, all but one was occasional.
There was one cry that was constant.
Years later, my dad always displayed a
mischievous smile when he would tell
me, “I turned to your ma and said ‘I bet
that;one;is;ours,’;and;sure;enough;they
brought;you;out;.;.;.;and;you;haven’t
been;quiet;since.”
Although my older sister never really
voiced questions about her birth family,
I;had;many;inquiries.;I;was;a;mamma’s
girl.;I;couldn’t;imagine;any;mamma;will-
ingly giving up her baby. My parents
did their best to be open and answer my
questions. They assumed I was the prod-
uct of an unplanned teen pregnancy, and
yet they assured me that I was wanted
and that they loved my sister and me.
Despite;my;parents’;efforts,;my;child-hood was not always filled with bliss.
Our;family;suffered;dysfunction;like;any
family.;Both;of;my;parents;suffered;un-expected health challenges which lead to
severe economic hardship.
My sister and I attended church regu-
larly with our mother during our very
early childhood. It was a small, tradition-
al church. With the few other children,
we were shuffled off to a class and taught
to;memorize;the;Lord’s;Prayer.;At;least
www.TheOldSchoolhouse.com
By;Teresa;Brouillette
I;am;thankful;for;a;birth
mother that loved me
enough to give me life.
My parents
My adoption being finalized, from left to right:
my dad Archie Dickerson, sister Lori Mahan,
Judge Kaye, me, and my mom, Zada Dickerson.
From left to right: my cousin Jim Barnett,
my granny Angel Barnett, me, and my
sister Lori Mahan
My Adoption
Story
