Monday, August 23, 2004


My sister came to visit this weekend. The last time she was in Mexico it was for a beach vacation and she was frustrated by her inability to communicate. This time, my husband and I were on hand to take her around the city and translate for her. I have an itinerary for most of our visitors, but we didn't stick to it for my sister's visit. She's really into golf and skiing and as far as I can tell, not so much into museums or shopping which are the big draws here. . .So on Saturday we went to the Six Flags amusement park on the edge of the city and spent our day daring each other to go on rides that spun us every which way, made us dizzy, and dropped our hearts into our stomachs. We ate junky amusement park food and laughed until we cried, screamed until we were hoarse. I hadn't been to an amusement park since I left New York (there, I'd head to Coney Island at least once every summer.) And it really was a good time. My sister had fun. I had fun. My husband had fun. It'd been awhile since I felt so free to be silly. I didn't think about our infertility once- not even to make the obvious connection between the roller-coaster ride of hope and despair and the Medusa, our last terrifying ride of the day that gave me a stiff neck when I woke up the next morning.

Yesterday was a low-key day. My sister came with me to Kinkos to fax off my HSG report to Dr. Hope who returns from vacation today. We had a long leisurely lunch at the Italian restaurant down the street from my apartment. We played monopoly in the evening and had a late dinner at home. She left about an hour ago to head back home to her real life.

I have four sisters actually. And a brother. The sister who came to visit is the only one of them that I'm actually in touch with. It's a long complicated story, but essentially all of my siblings are from my dad's first marriage. Are half-siblings. And when he died, they sort of gave up on my mother and I. All of them except the one who came to visit.

She and I grew up in different households. She's 20 years older than I am- closer to my mom's age than to mine. But over sangria on Thursday afternoon- when I told her that my husband and I might have to use a sperm donor, she reminded me that she and I are closer, more alike than she is to her biological sisters. She reminded me that genes aren't everything. And of course, as an adopted child, I know that. I know that love transcends DNA and that family isn't defined by blood. I'm just anxious to get started.


Blogger amanda said...

Glad to hear that you had a good weekend with your sister. I hope you get some answers from Dr. Hope soon.

12:04 PM  

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