Losing My Daughter (part 10)

You are here

Losing My Daughter
Page 10 of 18

I left hospital with my daughter the next morning. I believed the police would come for us had I not signed. This is the only reason I signed. I wanted to make sure the way was clear for us to leave. A woman, her husband and her newborn baby who was released from hospital that morning gave me a lift home. One of the nurses who was against my taking my baby home said to me “Don’t be back in nine months”. Those remarks were degrading and horrid and they still echo in my mind. I was so humiliated. I believe that all hospital staff and social workers I was involved with owed me a human duty of care to see that they did not abuse me. I know that they failed in this regard and that I have suffered all my life as a result of their lack of ethics in their attitude and treatment of me and their constant attempts to force me to give them my child. I know I would not have left the hospital with my child had it not been for the decency and kindness of the nurses who regarded me as a person fit to have my own child.

It was a very hot day for us to be leaving hospital, but at least we had a ride home. The woman who had befriended me hugged me, and I saw she was crying as I got out of the car. Her husband helped me carry the things we had been given by the nurses. I went back down stairs to wave goodbye to them and as I walked past my landlady’s sitting room door, she came out and she said she had not expected me to bring the baby home, and that I had to get out as soon as I could find a room because she was not going to have any “bastards” in her house.

I set my things in order, and walked to the nearest phone box to call the Salvation Army. The nurses had called them for me as well, and they needed to know when they could deliver a crib for my daughter. She slept with me that night and many others.

The next day, there was a delivery for me from the Salvation Army. I had quite a few nice things, not many clothes, but enough for the time being as it was summer. My friend who had moved with me from the hostel had made my daughter a lovely mattress. She was an excellent seamstress and worked for a tailor. She made the mattress out of white cotton and it had been filled with soft scrapes of cloth from her work. She also made me some sheets and I was given a blanket. My biggest need was nappies, as I only had eight. My friend was able to get me some flannelette squares, which she hemmed. I had some breast milk and I had enough bottles and teats along with formula to make up any that my daughter needed.

Food was scarce for me. I needed to keep what money I had for rent. And above all I needed to get a job. The day after I arrived home I was visited by the social worker from the hospital came to see me, she bought policewoman with her then and on other occasions.

 

Losing My Daughter, continued.