By Shanita Dildy-Goings
My path towards reunification was and still is quite strange, and a unique story. As I sit down to write this article, it dawns on me that I have been reunified with my siblings several times throughout my life, and that my siblings and I will have to walk that path of reunification several more times before reaching a true end.
Let me explain, most of us were all separated from our birth mother as soon as we were born. I was reunified with three of my other siblings when I was three years old, and our biological great-uncle’s wife adopted us one by one. I vividly remember being excited and anxious about having a forever home and a sister. Then immediately, I became apprehensive at my older sister’s response to our first meeting. She was probably used to being an only child by the time I came waltzing along. I don’t blame her, but at that moment I remember feeling confused, angry, and hurt. We were not far apart in age—less than 12 months—but she had already grown far ahead of me. She was already disinterested in “kiddie” cartoons like SpongeBob SquarePants, “playing dolls”, or any other “childish” things. She preferred “grownup” cartoons like “As Told by Ginger,” rarely ever wanting to play “house”, “pretend,” or “dress up.” We immediately clashed as if water and oil were people.
By the time our two younger siblings came along my sister had gotten used to other kids in the home, and my other siblings loved cartoons and playing with dolls like me. But I still can’t forget that first impression my older sister and I had. I wanted to be closer to her. I wanted to build a relationship where there should have already been half a decade of bonding, of figuring out each other’s quirks, witnessing one another’s embarrassments, accomplishments, of teasing, joking, and understanding. Because there was practically none of that prior to our meeting half a decade into our lives, I was building that relationship with a practical stranger. All we knew was we were told we had the same mother. We were all building that relationship as if we were strangers. And it was strange. Go figure!
Yet, we walked that path together. Despite how different we were, what made us similar, or the many obstacles we faced getting to know ourselves and each other, we were able to build a close, treasured, and extremely hectic bond. Fast forward to our preteen years. Our great-aunt, adoptive mother, and the glue that held our dysfunctional family together passed away from cancer leaving me and my siblings in the less than capable hands of our great-uncle. We were eventually thrown into the system, again. Separated, yet again. After already going through the initial reunification process with each other, this was devastating.
It was even more devastating because I believe the adults knew that separating us was detrimental, but I suppose they had no choice. It was difficult to find a foster home that could take four pre-teens. They split us into groups of two. Oldest and youngest. We were first told we would not be placed together as the van pulled up to our new home. I do not remember if we were told where our youngest siblings were headed, or if we would be able to see or contact them. We were together every day for most of our lives and then suddenly we just weren’t anymore.
Though we eventually got visitation and could stay in contact, we were all growing, learning, hurting, developing, and living life away from one another, all while pretending everything was normal. That is loss. That is trauma. We suffered the grief and trauma of losing a parent and relived it when we lost each other for the second time in our lives. And then, to have to cope with that trauma without half of your support system. After years of this limited contact the progress we made bonding regressed.
Time passed and the youth we matured into young adults, and we finally came back together, if a bit awkwardly. When I was three, the unfamiliarity with strangers who were supposed to be my siblings was hard. The second go-round was like meeting my siblings—familiar faces—who have now somehow become strangers once more. We walked that tumultuous path of reconnecting with the help of trusted adults, mentors, foster/adoptive parents, and some really phenomenal child welfare workers who made the journey as tailored an experience as they could.
It is strange. Going from playtime to spending “adult” time together. Going from talking about boys to talking about politics. Going from watching cartoons to watching Saturday Night Live. Okay, some of us still watch cartoons, and anime too! Anyway, I say that to say this: things are going to change! It is inevitable, I am afraid. What must never change is our flexibility towards change. Reunification is something that needs to happen between willing parties. The work is hard, tiring, and long. It is a bond that is forged that is worthwhile. Becoming something strong, like the foundation of an ever evolving, stronger family legacy.
It is still strange. Now, when we are all together, we often talk about how life was in the past and what we expect to see in our futures. We talk about the people we could have been if things were different. My sibling’s children, my nieces and nephews, digging into our roots and discovering our history, going to therapy, being mindful of our health, healing generational trauma, and promoting generational wealth. I would have none of this community without the work my siblings and I have done and still do towards our reunification. More often than not, we end up talking about our other siblings we know are out there, raised by others either not knowing or not wanting to know us. Round three of reunification, anyone?
It will be strange! I like to think it will be quite a unique story as well. Our uniquely strange pathway to sibling reunification.
Shanita Dildy-Goings is a Special Programs Assistant with the North Carolina Department of Health and Human Services. She has lived experience in the foster care system.
