The Sweater Story

So,  a few weekends ago, we (my husband, son, and I) embarked on a 9 hour drive to where my First Family lives, to attend a baby shower.  We weren't reunited when I was pregnant the first time, so they wanted to throw me a shower for my second baby (yes, I'm pregnant).  Off we went.  We got caught in a snow storm on the way there and had to stay the night in a hotel.  We finally arrived there the next day, with 30 minutes to spare until the baby shower.  I was amazed at the amount of people who came and their generosity. 

I asked my non-adopted, biologically-raised, husband what he thought.  He said it was really interesting to be in a room full of people who resembled me.  This is something he had never experienced before himself; he has always been around people who resemble him.  But he has noticed that he hasn't been around anyone who looks like me; we even joke about how our son barely resembles either of us.  For a moment in time, I felt just like everyone else; almost.  Loads of people with my chestnut brown hair, pale skin, and hazel eyes were there--and my body type.  People who have my body type were everywhere.  I was sensitive about having wide hips and a tall frame growing up; I was always the tallest girl in my class. 

I have never met any of my First Grandparents or great-grandparents.  They all passed away some years ago.  My grandmother's sister's was there with a special present and was eager for me to receive it.  I opened a beautiful little sweater in blue.  Her eyes welled up with tears as she told me the story.  Years ago, my maternal great-grandmother (my First Mother's, mother's, mother) passed away, spending her last days living with my First Mother's sister.  Going through her belongings, my aunt had sent my great-grandmother's knitting supplies to my great-grandmother's daughter, who is my great-aunt (my maternal grandmother's sister).  In with the supplies was a little blue sweater, started, but not finished.  My great-aunt finished it to give to me at my shower. 

It was the last thing my great-grandmother had ever made.  Great-Grammie was an Adult Adoptee too.