Previously:  Barbara recalls Mom telling her she locked herself in a closet and cried when the doctor told her she was pregnant again. I was still in diapers and needed all her attention.  Processing this issue helped my sister to see the reaction was normal and not to be taken personally. I begin to suspect that Barb chose to remember what Mom did wrong instead of what she did right. 

Chapter 74 ends:
That’s what Barbara had done. What she heard was “Mom never wanted me.” at a time when her husband rejected her too. To add another log to a flaming fire, Mom admitted her biggest mistake was to make Barb stay with her aunt and uncle for a couple of months. She had just started walking.

Three months prior to sending my younger sister away, Mom started to have mood swings, anxiety and irritability being the worst. She suffered from insomnia too. Constant fatigue kept her lying on the couch most of the day. Her family doctor couldn’t find any reason. Most likely it was Dad who suggested his sister take care of Barbara.  Older sister Anne, at fourteen, could handle me.

“You should have been the one to go,” my sister now argued, not for the first time. “You were the oldest. I needed Mom more.”

I had to agree. Putting the puzzle together, I believe Mother thought the opposite based on her worry about my clumsiness and slow progress as a baby. My sister’s motor skills developed faster than mine. She walked at fifteen months whereas I took my first independent steps at a year and a half.  My sister Anne said when I crawled, my right leg dragged. Mom never mentioned this. Was it true?  Memories are slippery things. Since nothing came of the matter, I didn’t take Anne seriously.

And yet Mom did say I was close to spastic when it came to learning how to sled down a hill, and later, ride a trike. She also could see my right eye turned in. The doctor claimed a patch would force me to use the weak eye and thus straighten it. What little girl wants to walk around looking like a pirate?  Not me, although I did wear it sometimes to pacify Anne and my parents.

When I look at my childhood pictures, it's obvious both eyes were weak. At age four, my severe astigmatism meant thick lenses and heavy frames. Anne said I never wore them at home and claims that made my sight worse.  I can still hear disgust in her voice when she told me this story. Unfortunately, even with glasses, I still looked cross-eyed.

Whereas I had defects, my sister had none.  Perfect eyesight, a balanced crawl, and the ability to catch on to a skill such as stacking objects assured Mom that she would better adapt to staying with relatives for a while.  She saw me as the more sensitive child. Strange.  We’re all sensitive in our formative years, I would think.

I explained my reasoning to Barb and even joked, “Mom probably thought her cross-eyed awkward daughter would never find a man.”

She snickered. A comic relief.  I could afford to make fun of myself since surgery at thirty-five aligned my lazy eye. As for being clumsy, that trait is what endeared me to my husband.

“Did Mom ever tell you what happened when you stayed with Aunt Jeanne and Uncle Todd? They had a kitten you loved.”

“She confessed to being sorry about sending me away.  She said that when I came back, I was a different child. I didn’t want to hear anymore.”

Did my sister suspect she had been sexually molested? 

Whatever happened stayed buried in her subconscious. I was disgusted she didn’t pursue the matter.  Time to tell her what Jeanne had related to Dad about my sister's month long visit. Barb wasn't that far off as I saw it.

To be continued