Becoming a Big Sister

I was barely seven years old. I had my birthday only five weeks earlier. And on this particular day, September 14, 1962, I was so very excited, because my mother was having a baby.

It was certainly not the first time my Mom was having a baby. Of course, I made her a Mom for the first time in August 1955.

It was not the second time she was having a baby, either. She had her second child just three-and-a-half years after I was born. I became a sister just nine days before Easter Sunday, when my brother was born.

That day in 1959 was also the day, when I ceased being anyone's little girl. It was the day that I became the "big sister," no longer allowed to be young. I was no longer allowed to be anything but "a big girl," even though I was still an older toddler.

It was the day that I began to learn "my place" as a girl, especially the firstborn daughter. It was not long before I realized that I no longer had any needs. Everything I needed--love, affection, consideration, and more--was seen as a pathetic attempt to be the center of attention.

No longer did I feel important in the family, and it quickly became crystal clear to me that being a baby, AND being a boy, was far superior a position in my newly elevated place in life.

Even in those early days, no one fostered many good feelings between my brother and me. There always seemed to be an underlying competitiveness between us, and my successes never quite measured up to his, even if we were not competing in the same arena(s). (Those days certainly cemented the future of the sibling relationship.)

But let's fast forward another three-and-a-half years...

Here we were on September 14th, 1962, and I was at our new house awaiting the news with whomever was babysitting my brother, now three-and-a-half, and me. Our father drove my mother to the local suburban hospital to have her baby.

I do not remember a lot about that day, but I know that I was not so secret about "wanting a baby sister." I was ecstatic to learn later that there would soon be a baby girl coming home. I had to wait a few days to meet her, as back in those days, mothers and babies did not come home right away.

By the time I was seven, I had already come to some understanding about the differences between being a child and a baby. I knew that I was older and needed to help to take care of a baby who was unable to do things for itself. Of course in those days, there were very distinct patterns and beliefs taught to us about our roles in families and the expectations in society.

At seven years of age, I was quite adept at diapering, even though I stabbed myself a time or two with the diaper pins, and washing out the soiled cotton diapers in the toilet. I did think it was pretty "yucky," but I was told how good I was at doing the "big sister" things of feeding, burping, and the other things that girls were to learn and do.

Those days in the early 1960s with my "baby sister" were memories that I remember best, and I was happy being her sister. We played a lot together, and neither of us were burdened too much by anything, as we became closer and closer during those earliest four years together, just the two of us girls. In fact, I remember 1962 to 1966 being the most normal (and best?) years for all of us, as a family, even though there was evidence of alcoholism in the family. Things started to escalate for the family soon after that.

In 1966, I had my 11th birthday, and my baby sister turned four. Our mother gave birth to a new baby sister just a week before her birthday, so she was no longer the baby. Then, two-and-a-half years later on January 1st, 1969, there was yet another girl born.

We had moved to a big, fancy country club house during the summer months before that. It was a five-bedroom home. My first sister and I shared a bedroom, and the new baby had her own room until the last girl was born and they shared it. The bathroom between the two bedrooms was shared by we four girls. It had two sinks, the toilet, and an enclosed shower. We had to deal with the diaper pail being in our bathroom. Our brother always had his own room and, in that house, his own bathroom.

From 1967 to 1971, our family changed drastically for so many reasons and in so many ways. As I was entering into my teens, and with the seven years difference, my sister's and my relationship naturally started to change. There was still a strong bond between us, however. With the additional two sisters, we both had our "roles" in the changing family dynamic.

These were also the years that I remember the abuse, in every which way--alcohol, rage, mental, physical, emotional, and more. It began a very tough time for the family, collectively, as well as for each of us individually..

I do not remember many good things happening in the relationship to my brother, other than it becoming more angry and volatile. I knew how to push his buttons, and I also did my best to protect myself from being beaten to death with a baseball bat, when my button-pushing had stepped over the line. We were all dodging the wrath, sadness, and overall craziness of the time.

Our father physically left the family in November 1971, as I had entered my senior year in high school. It was also the same week I had my first date, also a disaster. At 16, I graduated from high school, and in that summer of 1972, my mother and my siblings moved back into the childhood home, once our parents' divorce was final.

Though there were some tough times for all concerned, my 16th and 17th years somehow seemed easier, if nothing more than not having to worry everyday about seeing or experiencing some of the abuses perpetrated against my mother and me from Dad. But it wasn't easy, by any stretch of the imagine. The dynamics in the family were crazy, at best.

I had no direction, other than to "get the hell out" and be able to figure out who I was. I had little social life, and few friends. I was looking for ways to be able to find my independence, and I did so two weeks after my 18th birthday, when I joined the military. My siblings ranged from 14 to 4 years of age. My first sister had her 11th birthday three weeks after I left for the Air Force. There are now 50 years that have passed since I left home, bound for Air Force basic training.

The relationships between all of us as siblings have had their ups and downs. I made the decision to leave, so I knew that I was giving up a lot in the family, but leaving was necessary for me to get away with any sense of sanity. I had a lot of regret, shame, and guilt for doing so.

I am so lucky to have a close relationship with the one person in my life who touched my heart more than six decades ago. My first "baby sister" will always have a piece of my heart that no one else will ever hold.

As I remember those good years, when we were the only two girls, sharing a special bond then, we were setting a foundation that is stronger today than I ever dreamed was possible. We both have lived through experiences that often paralleled one another's, though we did not recognize it during many of the decades before we found our paths reconnected.

We are two very distinctive women; yet, our similarities are astounding, as is our bond of love as sisters, and as friends. The last two decades, we began a path to truly learn of one another. She opened her arms and heart to me in ways that I never believed would come for me.

She has become the one person in my life that I know has always and will always love me. Even though our roads have taken many twists and turns, it is now the deepest love between two people that I have ever known.

Something special began more than six decades ago on the 14th of September. It is almost unfathomable to believe I have known anyone for 61 years. It is even more unbelievable that we have been given this extra time in our lives, to continue to enjoy the sisterly bond, despite some of the challenges we have both faced in life.

I am so proud of the woman that my sister has become. I am proud to have had the honor of being her "big sister." Equally as important, I am blessed to call her my "Friend."

And as we approach her birthday, I speak these words to her heart...

My Dearest Sister, I loved you like no other on the day that you were born. I love you more and more with each passing year. And now that we are in the same decade together, I look forward to experiencing adventures like no other.

Happy Birthday, Sis! The best is yet to come!