Sisterhood

Something that is very common in this new millennium is blended families. Step, half, full; even close friends can be classed as family when your own blood abandons or lets you down. Children with more than one partner is a regular occurrence (for both men and women). If you have read my previous blog - Baby Mama  - then you will know that I am one of these women, having 2 children by 2 different men. My children know and understand they have different fathers but as far as they are concerned, they are just sisters. There is no half in the equation. They fight like sisters, joke like sisters and love each other like sisters. They have the same childhood, they have the same family, same experiences and as they grow older, the same memories. Even on the days when they are physically beating each other, screaming and shouting, their relationship with each other is beautiful to me. And it reminds me of how different my relationship is with my own siblings.
I am the oldest of around 12 siblings (I think, there may be more). 8 girls and 4 boys. We all have the same "Dad", a couple share the same Mum but the rest of us are from lots of different women. As a horrible teenager with a rocky mother/daughter relationship, I found a new way to break my mum's heart- by reaching out to a family that I felt I belonged in. The reality was I had no business with these people. We didn't share the same childhood, experiences, loves or memories. We were strangers meant to love each other because of shared DNA and it just didn't work for me. The majority, I just didn't like.

Except for 2. One brother, one sister- that I genuinely liked, cared for and wanted to spend time with. In fact my sister and I lived together for a while, we got so close. Was that because we felt that sibling bond or because regardless of being "family" we just became best friends? I think it's the second one. So we had the same friends, loved the same things, fought like cat and dog and created our own memories, even if they were 18 years late. And the memories we made whilst our friendship lasted, I honestly do cherish. I spent some of the best and worst times with her. I truly became myself when I met her. But our friendship was so intense that it could never have lasted and it didn't.
I am back to being an only child and no ones sister. I just didn't fit, I just couldn't be one of them! And I just didn't want to be. Am I sad for our children? Yes. But not sad enough to fake relationships, bonds and feelings that are toxic to me. Families are hard at the best of times but when you try to jump into one 18 years too late, it's even harder. Reading this you will probably think I'm cold, maybe heartless. I'm not. I would never wish them anything but the best and hope they have happy lives; but I can't be a part of it. The bitterness, anger and resentment I felt as a child, teen and now a grown woman towards the man who created us is too strong. I can't let go of it. And sadly their relationship with him- no matter how small or fleeting- cost us our relationship with each other.
Everyday I remind my daughters that whether they are best friends that day or worst enemies, that no one will ever have their back like they've got each other. No one will ever push their buttons or make them howl with laughter like they do each other. When I'm gone, no one will ever be able to share stories about mum like they will be able to do with each other.

Sisterhood can be such a magical thing! But with genuine sadness, just not for me.