I was eight years old when I asked my mother what adoption means. My adopted mother was sewing at the time and she put her sewing down and told me that they had got me from a children’s home, with that she turned back to her sewing and I was dismissed, no 'we are so pleased we chose you' or 'we love you'. My adoptive parents let me believe that they knew nothing about my real mother although my mother used to say to me 'we have heard your real mother is 'queer' and ‘if you are not careful you will end up like her', I was shown no love, was never cuddled, and was a very unhappy girl until I left home at the age of twenty to be married.
Had my adopted parents cared to tell me anything about my real mother I would have known that the bus stop where I caught the bus home from school every day for many years, I later found that my mother lived in a house right next to the bus stop. I wonder now how many times I could have walked past her.
- Discovering my adoption
- Discovering my adoption part 2