Erin Kelly reflects on the personal impact of having two brothers from two different walks of life.
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Growing up, it was always me and my older brother, TJ. We looked different than everyone else and had very different distinct ways of letting our personalities shine through, but it was nothing to be ashamed of. Exactly 14 months separate us in age and we’re both adopted from Seoul, Korea—though we didn’t come to the US at the same time. We were just babies.
Our adoptive parents, the only parents we’ve ever known, always wanted to have kids, but were unable to do so naturally. So, they packed up their car sometime in 1984 after doing some extensive research, drove to JFK Airport in New York, picked TJ up and brought him home to Altoona, Pennsylvania–where we’ve lived since we were adopted. I came along a year later. I was the baby of the family—and for a long time, something about that just rubbed me the wrong way.
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I could say that this is where my story starts. I could say my first 11 months of life in Korea were great and I remember everything. That, however, would be a flat out lie. In truth, I don’t remember anything about my life there. All I really know is that I was born somewhere on the streets of Korea, which most likely was a major contributing factor as to why I have cerebral palsy today.
I’ve always known I’m much different than the rest of the world. I’ve always felt as though I needed to “be someone” and accept my disability on my own terms, in order to move forward in life. TJ has played a huge role in that, probably more than he knows. He has always accepted and loved me the way I am as his sister—the way a brother should. In turn, I’ve accepted him and his ways as my brother.
So, it seemed like the saying, “You can’t choose your family!” never really applied to ours—and that couldn’t have rang more true—as unbeknownst to us at the time, our lives would change forever years later.
In 1999, my Mom took me to one of my physical therapy sessions after school. She pushed me into the large room with big, blue mats and mirrors in front, where my therapist would help me stretch and get ready to exercise. I’d already gotten out of my wheelchair and was stretching out on this particular day, when I saw a little blonde-haired boy out of the corner of my eye. He looked to be around the same age as I was when I came to the States from Korea, but I couldn’t really tell.
He was just sitting in the farthest end of the room, contently playing with toys that a woman had stuffed under her arms and in her purse. After a while, he noticed the brightly-colored exercise balls that were scattered throughout the room before picking one up and walking in my direction. I was too engrossed in my routine to really take note, but when I looked up, there he was—laughing and bouncing that ball off my chest.
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“Gosh, you’re cute! You better hope I don’t end up taking you home,” my Mom said out loud as she watched this scene unfold. She was just talking about completing yet another home study in hopes of adding to our family.
The woman, who was presumably this little boy’s caretaker, was still sitting quietly in the room, but overheard Mom.
“Excuse me, Miss,” she politely interjected. “This little guy is available for adoption. His name is Cody. I’m his temporary foster Mom.”
My Mom’s face lit up when she heard this. She and my Dad had kicked around the idea of adding to our family for quite some time at this point, but nothing seemed even doable until this very moment. So, after a few minutes of talking to this woman, Mom was cautiously filled with hope and I laid on the mat as I finished my exercises. Cody, on the other hand, was still bouncing toys off my body like a boomerang, having the time of his life.
A few months later, Cody came to visit our home. Almost a year after that, my parents got his adoption finalized—and TJ and I officially had a younger brother. It felt a bit strange to me at first, because I‘d spent so long being the “baby”. Now, suddenly, I wasn’t—and that part felt empowering in many ways.
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As time went on, I eased into my role as Big Sister. Cody continued to take to me right away. The most amazing thing to me, right out of the gate, he was never afraid of my wheelchair. In fact, he often crawled up the side and sat on my lap. I loved that. By the same token, I think he loved finally having a real family, as he quickly bonded with everyone and our many pets.
Today, not much has changed. TJ and Cody look out for me more than ever, and I try my best to look out for them. The one big change that’s going to happen soon, however, is Cody’s going away to college. It’s about an hour away from home, but I think not having him with us will still feel out-of-place for everyone.
So, if I could say one thing to both my brothers, it’s thank you. Thank you for always listening to me, having my back and treating me like a normal human being. I love being your sister. If I could have picked any other family, I would’ve turn down the opportunity. You are my family—now and forever.
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Photo Credit: Farid Iqbal/Flickr
As the Mother of these wonderful sons & daughter, I am blessed to have seen them grow into talented, creative individuals! I am grateful for the opportunity to love and cherish them every day. Erin is modest, she is my easiest child & keeps the boys in order. What a bond they share! I am happy they have each other-family is a treasure!