This is the 2nd of three blogs on my adoption, to read part one please go to https://digalpin.wordpress.com/2012/03/08/adult-adoptees-and-identity/ and part 3 here
As my adoption file arrives I cancel my appointment, after 8 months you would think I’d prepared myself but apparently not! My emotions get the better of me and I re-arrange the meeting. In preparation I go over the bits of my adoption journey that are known to me, those key moments, the most important being the first time I ever saw my natural mother in a photo.
There are 3 photos, her with a small child (not me), one of her with a handsome man and a photo that looks like a passport photo of an attractive dark eyed woman, of about 30 years of age, looking directly into camera, hair smart, her skin looks dark, or is that because it’s a black and white photo? (I find out later she is Anglo Indian). I stare at the photos looking for similarities, are those my eyes, her chin, how tall is she, how thin is she, is that my nose?
It’s like ‘wah hey I look like someone’ , this is the first time I have ever had a resemblance to anyone. This is very important to me because I share no physical features with my adoptive family and have always felt like a ‘cuckoo in the nest’.
After getting over the initial excitement deeper thoughts emerge, more unknowns to be known, questions I would desperately like to ask her.
Turning the passport photo over there is a small faded date stamp “Jan 1960”, what does this tell me? Repeating the date in my mind, “Jan 1960, Jan 1960” the penny drops, of course this is the year of my birth. More significantly its January, she is already pregnant with me, not more than a few days/weeks though, does she know? The eyes look sad, did they before I knew the date on the back of the photo or am I seeing something that is not there? We are in a peculiar position at this moment she and I. The dark eyes that look back at me hold her secret, yet the eyes that look at her, mine, know her secret and what is going to happen within a few months of this photo being taken. I am looking at a woman whose life is out of control as all that she loves, and might have loved, will soon to be lost to her forever but she does not know this yet.
The small child turns out to be my half sibling and the man her husband, but not my father. Within a few months of these photos being taken my half siblings life would be turned upside down as my (our!) mother loses a hard fought custody battle. For her husband his beautiful wife, the mother of his first born, will soon break his heart as she tells him she is pregnant with another mans child. The unborn child within her, me, will spend just a few days with her in a hostel for unmarried mothers, the only time we have met.
Fifty years after the taking of these photos I learn the fate of my half sibling as we are happily reunited via an incredible stroke of luck, when in a moment of boredom I surf the internet and come across a website called ‘Tombs in Ooty’ (I know!), this site leads to us finding one other, but of the central figure, the one who has been totally absent in my life, and the one who has had the biggest impact, well …………..
When I reflect on the reasons for my adoption, basically because my mother was ‘unfaithful’ and pregnant by another man, she probably had very few options as a minority ethnic woman in 1960. It makes me realise how far society has advanced, and how proud I am of those advances, although others may not see it in the same way as me!
I know reading the file will not make up for these lost years or bring to life someone who only exists in my mind and in 3 little photos, I know all thats waiting is regret, but still the desire to make some kind of sense is strong, and so with some trepidation the file will be read, but just not now.
(The full story, and outcomeof my sear, can be read here <a href="here“>)