A short beginning autobiography of C.Olson. For UMW class

1. I am Christina Dawn Olson, I was born in Dexter Missouri to a Sherri and Faron Vaughn. My parents
were very young when they had me, my mother just turned 16 and my father was 19. By the time my
mom was 19 she had three little girls. Life took a toll on my parents, my father was in and out of our
lives, but I can’t say that I really remember any of this. When I was 7 years old my mother committed
suicide. My father was not around at the time so we were thrown into foster care. While in the state of
Missouri my sisters and I were in 3 different homes; sometimes we were together and sometimes we
were split up. We had good and bad foster homes and a social worker that I considered to be the witch
on The Wizard of Oz. It’s funny because I often look back and realize she never really did anything bad
to me, but as I have become older I realized that she became my excuse for why things weren’t working.
She was the women responsible for taking me away from my mom and dad, my foster parents, and my
sisters.
By the time I was 8 my father wanted to raise the three of us girls. So we were flown to Hamilton
Montana where we were greeted by a lady who was tall, blonde and possibly the most beautiful woman
I had ever seen. She had a little boy standing with her and a baby in her arms. She squatted down and
introduced her two boys and then herself, “ my name is Sandy, I came to pick you up today because
your dad is working, I am your dad’s wife.” What?! We had been staying with Sandy for a few days, I
am not sure how long. When one day she informed us our dad would be coming home. I will never
forget sitting on the front step outside of the house, it was so hot, and seemed like he would never get
there. From a distance I see a man walking, it was him! I began running with tears flowing down my
face, my arms extended. He dropped his bags and knelt down on the gravel road. That was the most
memorable and best hug of my entire life. I thought this was my happy ending, but it was soon to be
proved wrong. My father and stepmother didn’t really seem to be happy, a lot of yelling and throwing
things. I would usually grab my sisters and brothers and go somewhere so that they didn’t have to hear
or try to keep them from being sad. As their life was taking a toll on them, we were once again shoved
into the system. My step-mom took her two boys and told us goodbye. My father had been gone for
about a week, possibly more and I was left to take care of my two sisters. A neighbor got suspicious
when I went to her to ask for crackers. It seemed like minutes from the time I got the crackers and my
dad was pulling into the front yard. Right behind him was the police department and our new social
worker. I knew what this meant I ran to our room and grabbed as many things as I could put in my
hands. To this day, I still have the book I grabbed. Screaming and crying they took us to the car and off
to another home. Not too long after this we were transferred to one more home, it was a great couple
that ran a daycare. One morning our social worker picked us up for a ride to her house for dinner. She
had the coolest house! The biggest one I had ever seen with lots of really pretty furniture. When we
walked in our dad was sitting on the couch. He smiled, but it wasn’t his normal smile. Something felt
wrong. He hugged me really tight and kissed me on my forehead. “Sit down girls, dad has something he
wants to say” he said. But nothing was coming out and his eyes filled with tears. “ You know I love you
all very much, you are my baby girls, but…….” more tears. “ Daddy has to say goodbye, I have to let you
go, I have to do what is best for you.” A long and silent moment for us all as we try to soak in what he is
saying. I remember my younger sister asking if he was going on the truck again. He looked at us an
explained that he would not be our daddy anymore, that he was going to give us up for adoption. I
don’t know what that means, but I know what I felt and it wasn’t good. He said for us to give him a hug

2. and he would have to go. I now knew this was it, I was not going to see my dad ever again. He would
never hug me or kiss me on the forehead again. I begged him to stay, I begged him to not let us go, I
told him not to listen to Alma (our social worker). I grabbed his hand in mine and pulled myself into his
arm, he just kept repeating himself, “I have to go”, “I love you”, “I have to let you go”. He got into his
red and white car and drove slowly away. I cried for hours that day, and just hoped he would change his
mind. Life as the three of us girls knew it was changed and it was about to get crazier.
If you read all of this, it’s the start of my life story that I hope to share with my parents someday. Don’t
worry, life has been so good to me and I am truly blessed. There is much more to the story, and
probably more than you care to know. Before its all finished know that my sisters and I were all adopted
by two amazing people, and yes I am living happily ever after.