BIO: I`m from the far north of England where I was raised , my adopters emigrated to Australia when I was a teen . I`m raising my 15 year old daughter here on the coast of Western Australia.
HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE ADOPTED?
Monday 12th December 2016 …
Its been 13 days since I was given access to my adoption records .. The window of space in between then and now has seemed a time continuum , I`ve barely recognised the passing days overlapping into one another. I stopped noticing my beautiful garden , I didn`t even hear the lovely bird song nature brings . I`ve been deaf & dumb & blind to things . Like a tea bag left inside a cup of stagnant water , I was Steeped into an anguish , panic , grief and a terrible Rage building towards a brutal , narcissistic machine that is Society.
I was born , adopted and raised in the far north or England in the 1960`s , my adoption
records were sent from the U.K to a nominated adoption agency here in Perth , Western Australia , ( where I`m raising my beautiful 15 year old daughter Katie ) I`ve had my original birth certificate for years but never knew there were adoption records , at 48 years of age its been a revelation.
I saw my Mothers tiny , sweet handwriting for the first time and to me , it was tangible , I felt like an Addict just before I looked . I was really needing the Respite and Relief and Comfort of a Hit and seeing my Mothers handwriting and reading her words felt akin to Connection and temporary Relief.
In my life , the term `Birth Mother` has never applied to my own Mother . Its never felt a true term to represent or describe her . She is my full , beautiful Mother . From the age of about 6 years I`d feel a sense panic rising from time to time , a feeling of dread would seep into my consciousness , I knew my Mother was desperately unhappy and I knew she needed me and i`d feel shocked by the feelings and eventually they`d ebb away until next time.
In those moments of childhood awareness , I needed my Mother and I swallowed the need until it passed . I wanted to Protect her . I wanted her to collapse into my chest and i`d visualize it happening , she`d come to me and fall into me and we`d dissolve into each other.
The term `Birth Mother` is a Detached little bauble of a phrase which hangs alongside all the other pretty baubles of Untruth in decorating this essential Tree of Life .. until its branches are masked & weighed downwards beneath such Shiny Little Lies
The Mother is thrown away like a Christmas tree after its been Cut and used then discarded.
I used an adoption service to search for my mother , I provided researchers with letters and documents which had my Mothers name and her previous address and the name of her home town and my birth year Splashed all over them and .. Eventually they did find a Lesley Halliday . The researcher had typed the birth year of 1967 into her search bar and sure enough a Lesley Halliday was born that year to a Wendy Halliday , ( my Mothers name ) and the researcher decided that this Lesley Halliday was Me .
But I was born in 1968
The researcher found lots of information about this 1967 Lesley and while she was writing to the Mother of this Lesley and awaiting a reply … My own Mother died
I could not reach my Mother in time
My Mother died in unusual circumstances which remain an mystery , she was found 3 days after her death on her kitchen floor by a neighbor . She`d suffered two brain hemorrhages , one was specific to a blow to the back of the head , an inquest into her death was opened then closed unresolved.
After i`d brought home my adoption records , I was digesting it all , I wasen`t in a good state but at the same time I joined a search group on Facebook . My fathers name had been noted in my records , I know he would be 80 years old by now . If he is alive I needed to find him
Rewind to the past :
Its noted in my adoption records that my adopters already had two sons and they wished to adopt for ideological reasons being that ; it was more ethical to take an existing child rather than make a new one
Truth is my adopters had children and didn`t actually Need an extra one . They Didn`t Need me . My Mother Needed me and I Needed her
My adoptive family were academics , intellectuals and logical , free thinking people . I Spent my childhood feeling like a fish out of water . One of my adopters barely tolerated my presence and wasen`t shy in letting me know this . This adopter wanted me to leave and live with someone else when I was about 9 years old I think , but my other adopter was compassionate to me , I stayed living with them until I ran away when I was 16
I have very few memories of childhood , it was depressive , I was unhappy and displaced.
Neither of my adopters told me they loved me , they didn`t love me and I didn`t love them but I did value the compassion one of my adopters gave me . In saying this , I wish the adopter didn`t feel sorry for me because this adopter didn`t feel sorry for their biological children .. receiving the compassion made me kind`ve stand out to a degree as if I was different and .. I was always treated differently by both adopters
Amongst their family dynamics I became the perfect and most obvious little black sheep to pick as I was unhappy and when one becomes this , there is little scope for the family members to later alter their perception or view of me despite my growing into an adult , ( as slow and as stunted as that process was )
My adopters never introduced me to my Indian heritage , I grew up fearing Indians because they look like me . But my adopters family were lily white , I stood out when I wanted to hide or at least not stand out so much
Back to the present ;
So I joined a Facebook search group to begin looking for my father and from there someone told me there`s another group dedicated to my mothers home town .. I joined.
I wrote a post describing my mother , I noted her old address and asked if anyone remembered or knew her . Many people did know her . They immediately commented that they did and knew my Grandparents too and as soon as I thanked them and asked questions … the thread came to a grinding halt . It was as if people suddenly realized they could be breaching relationships and ties if they disclosed too much information . They scurried away and drew their curtains.
But all people described my mother as being .. Very attractive & beautiful , quietly spoken , intelligent , timid and .. mentally unstable.
A few people did message me privately . Three people told me everything they knew and I fell apart.
Rewind to the past ;
My father was a 32 year old Indian Doctor in my birth year of 1968 . He`d studied Medicine at a University in France then became a Registrar in an English Hospital near my mothers home town . Her town is described as a mining village , it was small and isolated in the 1960`s . My mother was a student nurse in another hospital and my parents had met at a friend’s party.
There was a fairly grim view of Interracial relationships in my mothers era and especially amongst her village folk . My parents fell in love . They conducted their romance away from her village . They discussed marriage and at one point my mother approached her father about the possibility of it .. He was a very strict man and was dead against marriage owing to my fathers nationality , ( this is noted by my mother in adoption records )
My fathers parents may or may not have guessed he was seeing an English girl but as my parents romance unfolded , my fathers parents decided the time for my his Arranged Marriage had come . My father left the country , he was sent abroad to marry someone else , my parents romance was doomed
Soon after his departure , my mother discovered her pregnancy , she was devastated over losing my father and then .. She realised she was carrying their baby x
But she knew there were difficulties ahead .. At some point during her pregnancy my mother was sent to a Mother & Baby Home in the South of England
I`ve since researched the mother & baby home . It was a rather grand and beautiful Victorian mansion , with outer stables and other smaller but exquisite stone houses for kitchen & grounds staff , it was set on a large , leafy property in Northampton . A woman named Lady Susan Glover of petty gentry owned the Mother & Baby home , she was a millionairess who ran the home as a Profitable Business . Lady Susan had pregnant girls working at her other country and city residences . Each girl either had to pay upfront for every meal and night stayed at the home or earn their keep by doing chores and working many hours per week . Lady Susan also happened to be the Chairwoman of the National Adoption Society which was obviously a conflict of interest but no doubt a good platform to network and drum up more baby business in her favour.
Anyway , so my mother was at this home for illegitimate babies . I`ve no idea if she could pay for her stay or if she needed to work but after babies were delivered at a local maternity hospital , the mother had to then also begin paying for their babies keep and all its medical tests as well . In England , all babies across the country’s Homes were separated from their mothers when the baby was 6 weeks old . At the mother & baby home where my mother stayed , a mother Still had to leave her baby at the home if she could not afford to stay on herself and if she wasn`t well enough to earn her keep
It was a bit harder to place mixed race babies in those days . As if being a Bastard wasn`t quite enough , having a Half Blood on top of this wasn`t good news . Many mixed race babies who couldn`t be placed , ended up going home with their mothers but of course the mothers parents wouldn`t accept the baby so the mixed race baby`s went straight into Government or private Foster care.
Adopters were found for me , an adoption day was set and I was dressed .. But my mother clung to me . she could not relinquish me.
The adoption was called off . My mother became surrounded by increasing pressure . After a couple of weeks another adoption day was set in stone
My mother relinquished me.
She then suffered a complete physiological break down.
I`ve seen a letter my mother wrote to Authorities in which she apologizes to them . She describes she felt anguished and tried to go back to work at the hospital as she was told to but had to leave as she wasn`t feeling well . And she was Sorry for Delaying signing the Final Adoption Consent Forms . In the letter she says when she feels more able to she will sign the Consent forms.
I was gone and my mother was is a terrible state , They had stripped her of me and there she was Apologizing to these Bastards.
I`ve since written to two women who knew my mother very well , they were her neighbors for many years and they said she was so timid and wouldn`t hurt a mouse . To follow are their descriptions of my mother and in here , there is an example of how some women cannot cope with being apart from their baby ;
She was timid and nervous – she struggled with one on one conversations – She developed OCD and was afraid of germs – Her hands were red & sore from repeated hand washing , ( she later wore white gloves to hide the state of her hands ) – she didn`t have further lovers or children as she wouldn`t or couldn`t get close to anyone – her house looked `like a bomb hit it` , her Hoarding became a disorder – she`d avoid any rare visitors at her door , she wouldn`t let workmen into her house for maintenance tasks – her dining room walls were lined with rubbish bags – She only left the house to go to the shops – she walked like a model and was well groomed – she only ate yogurt and fruit and lost a lot of weight – she never got over losing my father – The women who confided in me now Know why my mother was mentally unstable – she could not manage life – she was Lost and suffered from severe reactive depression , she was mentally unwell.
My mother had lily white skin . ( I reflect on her colours and her eyes as all of my physical features are dark ) She was a blue eyed beauty who had a promising career in nursing and she was a genteel girl , everyone said she was lovely
And then she was Crushed
My grief feels intolerable .. my sense of loss feels unbearable
I feel a strong Rage , it feels Dis-empowering because I don`t know what to do with it or where to put it and I know somehow I have to reconcile this.
Coercion is Not Consent . My mothers Human Rights were Breeched and thwarted and Dismissed .
Manipulating , Shaming and Bullying Under Privileged women into surrendering their babies to be raised by Privileged folk is Social and Tribal Exclusion in its most Morbid form. Adopters who assert their Perceived Needs and Desires as Priority over a child`s Primal Needs are suffering from a bizarre aspect of narcissism. Their Empathy gets lost in an effort to secure themselves as Primary Stakeholders.
Most people involved in Stripping a mother of her child , will say the child is `Special` or `hand picked` etc etc . Easy as chucking out a persons birth certificate , printing off a newbie , throwing in a new name and viola ! So Special ?
No . It is Not.
My mother and I were together for 71 days.
I share some of my mothers mental & social difficulties though my co-morbid aspects are not as extreme . One of my adopters was thrilled to tell me that when they fetched me at 11 weeks old they put me to bed at 7pm and sat bolt upright in their beds having slept in until 11am the next day . I was still asleep . 11 week old babies do NOT sleep for 16 hours straight. They are designed by nature to wake every 2 – 3 hours to nurse . If they didn`t wake their blood sugar levels would drop , its not safe for a baby to sleep this many hours and its unheard of . With weight gain I didn`t thrive well , I walked a bit later than most , I struggled at school and there was me and my mother , living 40 miles apart , both of us not thriving.
I`ve decided Not to find my father .
If he is alive he will be 80 years old . I would like to tell him that the girl he loved had his baby .. But I fear he`d dead and if he has an eldery wife then I`m not going to waltz into her life to tell her that her husband was actually in love with another and that I am their child . And if she is dead then I won`t approach their children , I`m letting go of my Indian heritage.
And history repeats ..
I wasn`t married when I became pregnant and my child is mixed race of Indian , Italian and English and yet I got to keep her.
So this .. is my story
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