I was a menopause baby, and by the time I was born 4 of 4 children, my parents were nearly 40, and my next oldest sibling was 9. I was neither wanted nor loved by my parents, and was dumped on my siblings and a nanny. When I was 3, my nanny was discovered trying to leave the country with me and return to her home country of France. She was immediately fired, and I was dumped with an older mentally ill woman who took care of me when my siblings weren't available to watch me. When I was 8, my parents decided if I could walk across the HIGHWAY to get to the babysitter, I could stay home alone. My siblings were all gone at this point, so I spent my days alone with my dog. My oldest sister said I "grew up like a weed", neglected and unwanted.
I found my nanny after I became an adult, and she told me her side of the story. She was appalled at the abuse (Including sexual) that my siblings had suffered at the hands of our parents, and was determined to save me. She was infertile, and she loved me as her own. She was going to return to France and claim I was her own child. Her story matched up with my siblings accounts and my own experience at the hands of my parents. I can't think of how many times I wish that had happened, but it didn't.
I am envious when people talk about their relationships with their parents. I will never know what that was like, being able to be safe and loved in my own home growing up. I can only stand outside and watch, and at least be glad that some other people did not have to live through what I did.
