The adoption agency had been incredibly supportive during the terrible months following my brother Billy’s death. Sometime after Billy arrived in our family (see previous post), my parents asked the adoption agency if it would be possible for them to have a third child (my brother Bill and I were adopted from the same agency). They said that my parents could expect a third child when the right one came along.
It was April 1961 when the call came that their infant son was ready to come home. By the time my mom, dad and I (now 4 ½ years old) went up to Vermont to pick up Baby Sam, he was five weeks old, having been born in March. The adoption agency wanted to watch him carefully to ensure that his health was good before he went home. I loved my baby brother immediately and helped my mom feed, dress and bathe him. I wanted him to grow bigger FAST so that I could play with him! The joy that Baby Sam brought to the family was nothing short of a miracle.
And speaking of miracles, in May my mom was relaxing in the bath while Sam and I were napping and she noticed that her belly jumped (her words)! She went to the doctor immediately, who informed her that she was about 4 months pregnant. My mom had been told years before not to try to have biological children, following miscarriages and a still born child, hence the subsequent adoptions. So this was a surprise, to say the least. She was ordered to stay on bed rest for the duration of the pregnancy. She was allowed downstairs in the morning and then back up again at night. During the day she rested on the couch in the living room. Her friends created a schedule of helpers to manage the house and kids. I took a lot of care of my new baby brother, feeding him his bottle and helping to dress him.
My brother Sam will be writing a “guest” post at some point in the future about his arrival in the family, and how he always felt that he was “the replacement brother”. Having sorted out the timeline, we know that this was certainly not the case.
