Before I could walk, I was walking out of my old life and into my new one.
My birth mom, Joy, had me at an unstable time in her life. She was bouncing from house to house, and she wasn’t capable of taking care of a baby. She would stay with her friends for a little bit, and she would leave me all day with them while she was at work. I would end up getting attached to them. When they'd correct her on how she was parenting me, she would pack our stuff up, and just leave. By the time I was six months old, I’d already been with eight different families. I wasn’t the happiest baby. I had attachment disorders, so it was hard for me to love someone, thinking they were just going to leave.
The first time my adoptive parents saw me was at a gas station when they were going to go get my dog, Kirby. My mom had to go to the bathroom, so she went to the gas station while my dad was filling up the car. While she was in there, she saw me in a car seat, just sitting on the table. When she saw me, her heart broke. I was sitting there all day in a car seat. She thought I should be in childcare or something. When she got in the car, she was just a mess.
A few months later, my birth mom was at a picnic with a foster parent she was staying with at the time. My mom was a foster parent at the time, so she went to the picnic with my sister, brother, and a few foster kids. She saw this group of people just wanting this baby, which was me. She was telling herself not to go over and touch that baby, but she felt like it was a calling from God to see me. She saw me at the gas station, and my sister would also name all her baby dolls “Sarah”. My name at the time was Sierra.
Two months later, when I was six months old, Child Protective Services called, and asked if they could watch the baby girl Sierra while her mom was getting her stuff together. They had me for a year and a half. I wasn't the easiest baby to deal with. I couldn’t eat anything besides goat milk. I would throw up all my formulas. I had deep rages where I would scratch myself, I would scream, and I didn’t want to let anyone love me. I had visits with my birth mom at a parenting class so she could learn how to take care of me. Unfortunately, she couldn't.
A year and a half later, I was adopted in December. My mom said that the termination was the hardest part to see. My birth mom fought for me, and she loved me very much. She just wasn’t capable of taking care of a baby at the time.
I think the judge made a good choice, because who knows what my life would’ve been if I was still with her. I'd probably probably be moving around a lot, and living with other people. I'm glad he made the choice to have me adopted. I have a great family. My sister Alyssia and I are really close. My brother and I don't talk as much, but he is eight years older and has a life of his own now. I have two step siblings that are great, and my stepmom, who is wonderful. I live with my dad and my stepmom, which is great too. I see my mom about once a month, so we are starting to build a better relationship.
Even though sometimes I feel like I don’t belong, because my skin and my hair are different than my parents and my siblings, I know that they are still my family. Out of all of this, I learned that family isn’t who gave birth to you, family is about the ones who are there for you.