The BRIEFLY then became 'forever'.

I was born in the early 1960s as the fourth daughter of five girls. My parents had farming, wine growing, guest rooms and a local restaurant. That means a lot of work.

My youngest sister was born 11 months after me. Shortly after her birth ...

("A girl again," my father said at the time, my second eldest sister told me after his death. She and my oldest sister, both of elementary school age at the time, were there when the mother and the youngest were picked up from the hospital. My father pulled up in front of the hospital, my mother was standing there weakly at the exit door with the child and her suitcase. The two older ones were then asked by the father to help her. He didn't get out: it was just a girl again and not a successor. All other children were born at home.)

  ... I was “briefly” taken to my uncle and aunt about 30 km away, who were childless. The two men were brothers, both very dominant.

I got there, my neighbor told me later, with no spare clothes, no diapers, no anything.

The BRIEFLY then became 'forever'.

I had it good there as an only child, better than my sisters.

Also, I always knew about the situation.

We visited my original family about 3-4 times a year on public holidays or birthdays. My first parents never hugged me and / or said "You are our child".

My youngest sister thought I was her cousin for a long time. Only very rarely did she visit us during the summer holidays when she was in elementary school. She felt like she was in paradise: there was no warm cocoa and no visits to the swimming pool at her house (my first parents). Only work and helping out in the family business counted there. Three of my four sisters left home very early, the eldest continued the winery and the guest house because it was required and expected of her. They didn't have such a happy and carefree childhood as I did.

I didn't get very much love, security and care from my adoptive parents either. It was simpler, more carefree there, but also not the loving home that is striven for today.

My uncle was also a tyrant and bullied and humiliated my aunt, his wife, to the point of her death. She was his servant, nothing else. He also hit her, but I only noticed and experienced that shortly before her death. He also always accused her of childlessness; she had an ovarian disease. In his defense it must be said that he had a not inconsiderable injury from World War II and was almost deaf and blind for the last few years of his life. Therefore he was very suspicious of everything and everyone. In hindsight I think he was mentally ill, too, and in some way I forgave him, too.

My aunt was the sweetest person you can imagine. Only with her did I feel a little bit like “her child”. She was in a coma for three days before she died. Before her last breath, she reared up again and called my name. Our former nursing assistant from Poland and I were there. When I stand by their graves, I only think of her, never of him.

When I was an adult, my second eldest sister told me that my first mother used to stand crying behind the gate of the yard when I drove away with my uncle and aunt. Also, my real dad said to my second eldest sister on his deathbed, "I don't know if it was right at the time that we gave her away."

The actual, official adoption took place shortly before my marriage, at the age of 24. Before the adoption, nothing was noticed or questioned at official bodies or authorities such as school, doctor, municipality, etc., the surname was the same. Only the older, local people knew about my story.

Nobody has ever spoken to me about this topic, why and how. I didn't ask either. It wasn't until all four birth and adoptive parents had died that everything broke out. That was a very difficult time for me, but I will never get answers again.

My older sisters also say they don't know anything about the exact circumstances.

My life now looks like I've developed a strong helper syndrome. I want to please everyone, please everyone, be loved, hurt no one, argue with no one. That probably also has something to do with the adoption, being given away and the resulting fear of loss.

In the end, only questions remain:
Why me?
Why wasn't I brought back?
How can you, from today's point of view, so easily "give away" your child ????
How did my first parents deal with this situation themselves?

Sure, those were difficult circumstances and completely different conditions back then.
I might even have understood them if they had explained it to me. Sometime.

But it's too late for that now.
Sadness, helplessness, emptiness, insecurity, lack of understanding remain, forever.

I don't condemn or judge them.

I just want clarity in this darkness.

But I will never get this clarity!