When I was twelve years old my mother became pregnant with her fourth child. Two years prior she had given birth to my baby brother, Jesse.

I was elated with my brother Jesse's birth. I exploded with the news of his birth to my fourth grade class.

This pregnancy was different. My parents had been fighting for years. They both had been involved in extra marital affairs.

It was at this time that my father sat my brother Chuck who was two years younger than myself and I down on the sofa and proceeded to inform us that he and my mother were planning to divorce. There was no mention of the yet unborn baby.

My father tried to reassure us that he still loved us but that he and our mother were incapable of getting along.

My mother worked with a woman who was unable to conceive children of her own. Her name was Helen. My mother who was overwhelmed by an alcoholic husband who often beat her in fits of anger, was a desperate woman seeking help from where ever she could obtain it.

Knowing that it was a great possibility that she and my father would divorce my mother agreed to give up her child for adoption to her friend and co-worker Helen. The two couples met and plans were made.

I being twelve fully understood what it meant that my mother was pregnant. I was excited and greatly anticipated the arrival of my new sibling. I had no idea that my mother was planning on giving away my youngest sibling.

January 2 1967 my mother gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. My parents registered in the hospital under the name of the couple of who would be adopting my baby brother. Helen and Hargus Kidwell.

I recall vividly the day my mother brought my brother home, it is as if the vision is etched in stone. My mother sat motionless, expressionless holding the baby in her arms.

He was beautiful. Dark curly hair. He looked just like my brother before him. I was ecstatic.

Then all to quickly, Helen and Hargus came to claim their new child.

I didn't understand why...why was my brother being given away? Where was he going? What did this mean? Did my parents not love him? Did they not love us? I was so confused, so angry.

We were not allowed to talk about it. My mother told everyone that the baby had died. I hated her for that. I started to rebel. I was so angry. At one point she threatened me that if I didn't straighten up she would put me in a foster home...it just so happened that this coincided with my discovery of my birth certificate while snooping

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