Losing my Daughter (part 14)

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Losing My Daughter
Page 14 of 18

After four days I felt a lot better and I called my social worker friend whom I had not heard from. She had told me she would come for me to get my daughter when I felt better. She came to see me that afternoon and she told me that she had some bad news for me. She went on to say that the courts had seen the paper I had signed and that my daughter had been allocated adoptive parents. She told me that my father had gone to the courts and applied for this to happen. I am not certain as to how he could, but later he said he did.

The social worker told me that my daughter was no longer at the house in Lansdowne Crescent and that were was nothing I could do about it. She told me she was sorry, but my father had gone over her head and had threatened them all with court action. I do not see this as enough reason for me to have lost my child now, but at that time my awareness of anything in this area was negligible. I had enough to do to survive, much less gain knowledge of my legal rights and there was no one who offered to help me do so.

I screamed at her and ran all the way to Lansdowne Crescent to the house where I had last seen my daughter. I went to the door of the house, the woman I had handed my daughter to tell me that the baby had been taken by her adoptive parents. I said I didn’t believe her because I could hear her crying. I tried to get past her, but she stopped me and said I must leave or she would call the police. I left.

I sat on the stone fence outside the house for a long time. I could not believe what had happened. I eventually went home when it was cold and dark. My friends were horrified. I went back the next day and tried to listen for my daughter; I heard a baby cry at times, but it may not have been her. My daily visits to the house in Lansdowne Crescent were brought to an end when I was taken by the police to the Hobart Police Station and told not to go back there again. I was told that if I did, I would be taken back to Mount Saint Canice.

There was no time I was told that I had any right of appeal or of any time when I could change my mind within the following three months. Had I known this I most certainly would have taken my daughter back.

Many years later my daughter’s adoptive mother told me that they had lived on their nerves hoping I would not change my mind during the first three months they had my daughter. I don’t see how this adoption was ever legal.

People tried to tell me how it was for the best for both of us and that I did the “right” thing. The point they missed is that it was illegal and that my human rights and those of my daughter were violated. I do not think I will ever recover from my time in Mount Saint Canice, and I know I will not recover from the shock at finding out that my baby had been taken for adoption. I was afraid that my father would send me back to the home.

 

Losing My Daughter, continued.