Amy held her roommate’s hand tightly as all she had worked for was brought into the world. Everything went quickly as Baby Jordan escaped her birth mother’s womb and took her first breath. Amy had just enough time to count 10 fingers, 10 toes, and to see that Baby Jordan was a girl. Baby Jordan didn’t cry. Was something wrong? Amy thought, babies are supposed to cry. But as the doctor took her away to her adoptive parents, Baby Jordan opened one eye and gave Amy a wink. Amy knew that this baby was going to be just fine.
I am Baby Jordan. As my 18th birthday approached I knew there was someone missing from my dinner table. At first, I thought it was my birth mother. However, I soon discovered that the person I have been searching for was her college roommate, Amy. While my birth mother denied my existence and her pregnancy, it was Amy who thought about little Baby Jordan every year on her birthday and prayed that Baby Jordan would be in good health and, most importantly, have a family of her own. When I learned about Amy, my guardian angel, I knew she was the one I had been searching for.
When we met for the first time, I had the opportunity to tell Amy about the significant events in my life, such as finally making high honor roll junior year, and the insignificant ones, such as finding a four leaf clover for the first time. She soon saw that Baby Jordan was thriving. It was somewhere between explaining building the tree fort and our crazy obsession with Swamp People that I realized how my close-knit neighborhood has raised me.
Come to Adams Court where the aroma of Spanish tortilla mixes with the smell of my mom’s freshly made apple cake. There are families of all different kinds here: two moms, multiracial parents, two Spanish families, a single parent, and a divorced parent, squished onto one small, dead end street. This community has become the framework for my openness to all types of diversity. There are three houses of only children and I am fortunate to be one of them. Not having siblings as a child would’ve been hard for me had I not had two play companions just a door up. We played all day, every day, and would stay together for dinner. Our back porches served as a communal potluck stoop where we would eat Annie’s macaroni and cheese while we reminisced about the day’s adventures.
Now, I look around the dinner table as my family surrounds me, always teaching, watching, protecting, and loving me. After 17 years of searching, Amy has found her spot on the stoop of a little dead end street I call home. I do not find myself wondering what other life I could have had if I was not adopted. I sit at the table and admire the network of neighbors, friends, and relatives who have shaped me into the girl I am today. “It takes a village to raise a child”, and I, Evelyn Schaedel, am the perfect example of this.
i cibi d'italia 