"I think I'm going to be sick," he groaned.Concern replaced the contempt on Carrie's face. "Here," she said before standing and taking a plastic water...bottle to her uncle. "Drink this. Maybe you'll feel better."Patrick took the bottle from Carrie's outstretched hand. "Thanks," he managed weakly. After several heavy swigs he tilted the bottle up again and rinsed his mouth. Patrick spat the mouthful of water onto the grass and sat with his back against a tree. He crossed his legs in front of him. But when you're adopted, you can't help but wonder about what life might have been like... the other way.What made it eerie were the similarities in our respective stories.I had been six when my birth mother - I didn't remember anything at all about my birth father - had gone away. I knew, later, that she had died, but no one ever told me why, or how. Kathy had been five, and Randy four, when they were whisked away to a new place."I was very sad," said Kathy, her eyes going unfocused as she. More

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