I believe in my brothers.

I believe in family not always having to be biologically related.

I believe in adoption.  

My parents have three kids. Only one of us shares the same genetic material as our parents, but we have a bond that transcends DNA.

I spent almost the first seven years of my life as an only child. Growing up I would constantly beg my parents for a younger sibling. I probably drove my parents crazy all the time with my “Can I have a brother?” “Can I have a sister?” “Can I have a brother and a sister?”.  Six year old me really believed that a younger brother or sister would be my end all solution to my ever present problem of boredom. Like most young kids I had plenty of friends in school and my neighborhood, but once the sun would set, these friends would have to leave and the boredom would set in all over again.

I hated being an only child. My parents were unable to conceive any more children after me, so expanding our family by the “traditional” means was out of the question. They decided to look into other options to finally get me to stop bothering them with my questions.

On February 15, 2007, my mom brought home a baby boy. She informed me that this new baby may not be with us too long because he was a foster child. Foster child or not this new bundle of blue was my new brother. Three months later and I found myself being the older sister of another baby boy.

I quickly found out that the whole “having siblings” and being an “older sister” was not at all cracked up as I thought it was going to be. I had to quickly adjust from receiving all of my parents’ attention to ⅓ of it.  I felt as if I was no longer the crown jewel of the family, which caused me to have a lot of resentment towards my new brothers.

Although I did harbor a slight resentment towards my brothers when they first came to our home, I always thought of them as family.  From the very moment, my brothers came into both my home and my life I always thought of them as exactly that – brothers. Never once did I consider them as my “foster brother” or my “adoptive brother.”

It’s been almost 12 years since my brothers came into my life. Like all sibling, we have our moments. I’ll admit my brothers are a handful. Frankly, my brothers are some of the most annoying kids I’ve ever met, but I wouldn’t change a thing about them. They bring life and excitement to my home that wouldn’t have otherwise been. Thanks to my brothers I haven’t been bored in 12 years. There’s honestly never a dull moment. I can’t imagine a life without them and I wouldn’t ask for anything different.

Occasionally people will ask me what’s it like to have adopted siblings and I tell them that its the same as having biological siblings. Having siblings who are adopted creates a type of bond that is slightly different from blood-related siblings. While we don’t have that shared bond of being in the same womb as each other, we have a shared bond of being raised by the same parents in the same home. I don’t feel that same obligation of doing things for my brothers solely because we are blood but because of the love, I have for them, proving the old cliche of blood being thicker than water as false. In my case water can become blood.

Adoption is a wonderful way of expanding families, while also giving kids such as my brothers a life much better than what their biological parents could have given them. Thanks to adoption agencies, social workers, and the foster care system, I was given the honor of being the older sister to two of the best kids ever, which is why I believe in adoption.