Haiti birthplace

My sister and I were born in the mid and late 70’s in Haiti. Until this day, I don’t think we can concretely say our ages, since we never seen our birth certificates. Later, in December 2012, after befriending on Facebook one of my birth siblings Geraldine, found that Roseline was Born Roselaine Dominique born in July 25th, 1976 and me, Elisabete (Bette) Dominique born February 6th, 1979. That would make Roseline to be 41 years this coming July and for me, 38 this past February. Not sure how accurate Geraldine is but she is the closest person who would know our ages.

Roseline and Betty a Haiti 1985

From what I know or thought I knew, Roseline and I were sent to an orphanage in Haiti in the summer of 84. There is a rumor that our birth mother sold us for money to feed the family without our father knowing. The rumor says that she intended to come back to get us once she had enough money but by the time she got around to do so, we were already put up for adoption. She abandoned us, she put her kids up on layaway like we were wanted items and she could not afford! At least that is what I felt like years later.

Through my late teens and adulthood, I always struggle with an intense self-esteem problem. Which with the help of a psychologist, recognized the trait of abandonment, not only by my birth mother but multiple important individuals through my life.

I do not remember much at the orphanage, I remember metal bunk beds which my sister fell off one and still has a scar to show. I remember a beige brown stucco un-maintained fence, cut by a metal gate enclosing the orphanage. Same metal of the roof of our family home shared with our mother, father and 4 of my siblings.

I remember dirt! The smell of dirt after a rain fall, just a memory of a smell. I guess my amyglada and hippocampus are still working for my age.

The fence at the orphanage was tall enough that i was not aware of the world around us. One of my last memory of the orphanage is when a sister brought me outside (not sure if Rosie was with me at that moment), facing the metal gate and told me to look up in the sky where a plane was passing by and told me that soon I will be in one of them. It will take me to a mommy and daddy that will take care of me. That was the last thing I remember doing in Haiti.

Only recently, while doing more research on my childhood, I discover that I was wrong on some aspects of how we ended up in the orphanage. Writing this brings a lot of memories forcing me to communicate with two of my siblings that are still alive. One that I have known all my life and the other who is a stranger to me.