Young Writers Society

Author's Note

You know when you meet someone for the first time at work or school and the more and more you get to know them, the more they look different to you. You may have seen this person a thousand times, and you saw them just like a normal human. Never did you consider the things that they struggle with or their story. When you start listen to this story you learn that there is a lot more behind the “human” you see. You hear the amazing things that they have overcome or still struggle with everyday. In this book I tell my story and how many people as they saw me walking down the halls or in a public place they probably just see me as another teenage girl doing my own thing. Or the times in class that I would get a good grade a people assumed that I was a natural scholar. However, they don’t know that I used to be 2 years behind and have many school and learning disabilities. Not to mention my extreme corruption from the adoption and constant struggle with Reactive Attachment Disorder. Which those of you who don’t what this is there is a brief description in the back of the book since it will be referred to a lot over this book a lot. To add to all of this I also had all the normal school bullies and a lot of them were a lot worse due to how different I was compared to my peers. Not to mention I was good at sports and school something that was completely accepted at our school. I hope in my passage to inspire and highlight that what we see is only a glimpse of what life really is.

Prologue- BINDINGS 

She came precisely once the tremendous black hands on the clock read five fifty. Her arrival was on the first day of the warm month July. The eight pound, five oz bundle of joy was brought into the world most likely because of a forgotten birth control pill. Her soft, frail cry resonated throughout the room, informing the doctors and nurses of her existence. Her biological mother had been expecting for nine months, but even with this extended time, she was far from mother material. This wasn’t her first born either. Her first born daughter, Arianna, had been taken from her grasp many times until she lost her custody forever. In a twisted way, this felt like a second chance to her. To be better. Do better. She should have been relieved and jubilant, with her healthy newborn child cuddled to her chest.

However, the only thing in her arms was a burden.

When we are born we are like a book with blank pages. If you opened this child’s book, you find a section of ripped pages. These pages were torn out, leaving tiny scraps of paper that still clung to the binding; proof they were once there. The ghost pages were mysterious and unknown, just like her father who ripped himself away, before she had arrived. The child’s book was titleless, waiting to be named. It’s binding was already weak from the alcohol and drugs consumed while her mother was pregnant. Despite this, the child had so much potential, yet so much room for failure.

Instantaneously after being brought into this world, the baby had many cards stacked against her. She was female with striking bronze skin, chocolate eyes, and brown wispy hair. She looked nothing like her mother, whom was once very beautiful. Her mother had blue eyes, fair white skin, and freckles. Looks that may have once been stunning were washed away from the alcohol. The smoking had made her once white teeth yellow.

“What will you name her?” asked the nurse.

It was like her first test. As she stared at her newborn child, she thought it over. Her name was simple:Kelly. Like a thousand others in the world, so she finally settled on something unique.

“Tamara,” said Kelly.

The doctor wrote it down on for Tamara's records.

“What shall I write for the middle and last name?”

“Rae for the middle name and Slowik for the last,” she replied.

“And for the other half of her gene make up?”

“Unknown.”

“Any guess?”

“African American.”

“Alright I will give you some privacy,” concluded the nurse.

Kelly was weak and fatigued from giving birth. The brutal truth slapped her in the face: she had barely survived child labor. She had worked harder in one night for this child then she would work over a span of her child's lifetime.

During the pregnancy, Tamara and Kelly’s lives were inevitably intertwined. For nine months, this unborn child relied solely on her mother. Kelly had already let her down many times. Everytime she choose to smoke, drink, or do drugs, Kelly wasn’t the only one dealing with the consequences. But despite this, infant Tamara clung to Kelly. Whether it was simply to seek warmth after entering the cold world, or the fact that Kelly was something familiar, was unknown. On the flip side, Tamara had altered Kelly’s life in every way. Kelly didn’t want the child, Tamara's sheer existence was already ruining her life. But Kelly refused to give her up. Kelly’s life may have not been good, but Tamara made matters more complicated and miserable. In nine months, blood and genes had bound these two as mother and daughter. Both Tamara and Kelly directly affected each other. And they were inseparable. Kelly didn't dote over Tamara in the way most mothers would. However, her choice to not give her up brought to light her illogical bond with her daughter. Whether or not it was fair or right, Tamara and Kelly would face every coming challenge together.

Within two days, the first phone call was made. It was probably a concerned nurse or doctor. This call to Department Of Homeland Security was the first to be made for Tamara, but would be far from the last. Three days after Tamara's arrival, Tamara and Kelly were discharged. Leaving the hospital, Tamara had only her blanket and the clothes the nurses had dressed her with. Tamara didn't have a nursery waiting for her, and no sentimental things she would keep to remind her of this time when she was older. Most kids would have scrapbooks full of baby picture.

Baby years are when parents become journalists. Photographing and writing down all eventsㅡthe first time they walk, talk, say their first wordㅡonly to argue about it later. “I swear her first word was mom,” ‘No it was dad.” Silly little things that kids only find embarrassing once they come of age. Yet one simple photo or written event is priceless. Taken for granted maybe, but so meaningful. Something like baby pictures is something simple; you wouldn’t think of it as that important. But if you have it taken away, you realize the true importance of it.

When we cry as babies, we are picked up and comforted. Then we are checked to see if we are hungry. As babies we can’t talk or move, so we really depend on our parents to take care of our every need. So you can imagine the upheaval that comes from those needs not being met.

Even while while your brain is still forming, you are learning lessons. One lesson is that if you cry, will someone come? I you are hungry, will you be fed? When you reach for someone, will they pick you up?

When a baby cries they are testing their parents on how well they can provide them care.

When Tamara cried, nobody came. Kelly left her helpless, dependent baby to cry all by herself. Or sometimes she might even spank her, or yell at her for crying. Tamara learned that she couldn’t rely on anybody. And that she would not get her needs met. Not only was she emotionally ignored, but her basic health needs were not met either.