We were very poor and my father had died in early September, leaving my mother eight months pregnant and with five children under the age of eleven. She had no marketable skills and her parents had been helping out.

Now here we were, three months later in early December and in a new city. We had traveled by train for about three days, before arriving to a rundown apartment that my mother’s sister had secured for us. We didn’t have any furniture or beds, so we all slept on the floor, huddled together to stay warm. I was afraid to go outside, because the apartment was on the second floor, and we had to walk along a wooden balcony that creaked and did not have any rails. It was more like a long wooden outcrop to allow entry into the apartment.

When my aunt visited, I noticed that she and my mother were always talking, but tended to stop when we were near. I didn’t want to get in trouble so I tried not to listen or bother them.

We had been in that apartment for about two weeks, when we were told that a visitor was coming to the apartment and we needed to be in our best behavior. We promised we would be. My older siblings, two boys, ages eleven and eight were sent away for the day and the baby was with a neighbor. Only three of us were there; a two-year old boy, a sister who was four, and myself, I was five.

The visitor was a middle-aged woman, she came in together with my aunt. She was well-dressed and seemed to be in a hurry. She said something to our mother and then my mother pointed to wall and asked us line up against it. I couldn’t understand why we were doing that. Then, the woman came close and started inspecting us, as if we were a litter of puppies. She looked at me first and shook her head, she touched my sister’s hair and said no, then gave a long look at my little brother and walked away saying that we were too old.

It was then that I realized that our mother, with my aunt’s help, had tried to give us away. It had been my aunt who had brought the stranger to take a look at us. I felt devastated. I knew that my mother didn’t like me, but I couldn’t understand why she would give away my other two siblings.

I found out that the reason the baby was not present was because my aunt had adopted him, and that the two older boys were going to be sent to my maternal grandparent’s ranch to help out.

Within a few months, the two year-old was adopted temporarily by an uncle and my sister was sent to join my older brothers at the ranch.
Three years later. I was sent to my aunt’s to help with chores and to babysit my baby brother that she had adopted.

Although, my aunt was a ruthless, cruel woman who terrorized me in my childhood, it never compared to the betrayal of my mother who tried to give us away like we were a litter of puppies. I never brought this up to her because it always made me upset. The pain of her betrayal was too much for me to talk about it. This pain has never gone away and still brings tears to my eyes to think that a mother would have the heart to do that. My best guess is that it was financial need and her inability to support us.

I hope that mothers who are reading my story will realize how painful it is for children to feel rejection and betrayal from a parent who is supposed to love and protect them. For me, it has lasted a lifetime.