In September 1984 I was informed I was being posted to RAAF (Royal Australian Air Force) Butterworth, Malaysia. As such I needed a passport. I asked my mother for a birth certificate, which she said she would organise. Well it turned up but showed I was born in Launceston in the district of Hobart and my birth was actually registered in October 1984. Knowing this was not kosher, I waited until I was visiting Tasmania prior to the posting. I stayed overnight in Launceston on the way to the farm. I asked my auntie how old was I when I was adopted. She replied ‘6 weeks old’. This confirmed what I thought but was not able to approach my mother due to her age and the fact I was leaving the country for two years. The years since though being kind to me have been of maximum confusion and having to rationalise many aspects of my life. I have tended to distrust people and am saddened that there are people within the community of those affected who still do not consider me a adoptee because I was 34 years not knowing as well as the fact my natural mother was with me at the home for 6 weeks before I was adopted, a Salvation Army policy back then.
In many ways my adoption experience is one where many of those affected have created much more emotional and psychological damage than the initial discovery has.