I was 8 or 9 years old when my brother, Don, told me that I was adopted.
The evidence was irrefutable: I was the only child in the family to have freckles, I was the only one (of six) who had to wear glasses at an early age and I didn’t have a baby book.
I would say the absence of the baby book was the main proof of my birth outside the family. Also, Mom couldn’t put her hands on my birth certificate.
When one adds up all the "facts," there are several good reasons why I believed what my older brother had told me.
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