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Thursday 4 November 2010

National Adoption Week - a birth mum's tale

I know she doesn't understand. She will blame me I am sure. I can't see her. I can't face the upset it will cause to my family. What will she expect of me anyway? I can't be her mum now. It is too late for that. What good would it do?

I had her in the Sixties. It is true that they were swinging and I had a great time in the dance halls of London. Away from Ireland, away from my parents, being young and free.

I thought I was in love. An Irish lad of course. A plumber by trade and a great dancer to boot. We talked of marriage. I was probably young and daft. I fell for his charm and was easily led. I don't like to talk about it but he hit me. In the end, I decided he was not a good bet.

The problem was by then I was pregnant with his child. I had to hide it from Mammy and Daddy. This was difficult as I usually went home at Christmas every year. As I was due in mid-December, I had to say I was working over Christmas. I don't know whether they believed me. They never knew about their grandchild.

He came to see his new daughter and said she was beautiful. A big baby with curls and soft skin. We argued though and he went away. I don't know where he ended up.
My daughter went to a Yorkshire family. I told them to make sure she had a big garden to play in and to keep her in the Catholic faith.

I had to take my baby up to Yorkshire and hand her over to the nuns. I left her with a blanket and a doll I had bought her. I wonder if she still has it. (SHE DOES BY THE WAY)

4 comments:

  1. Oh my that is so incredibly, incredibly sad. The doll and the blanket just made me cry.

    My Mum was adopted. She found her Mum but it's hard. All those reunion shows make it look so easy. But it's not.

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  2. Couldn't just "read and run" but nothing productive to say, except to send huge hugs to you and everyone involved in the adoption process xxxxxxxx

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  3. This is a beautifully sad post, though the blanket cloaks it in hope.

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  4. I remember that doll well.xx

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