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I was brought up in a small farming community by hard working, very devout Catholic parents, and at 18 found out I was pregnant. One month later without telling my family about my growing condition, I was on my first flight ever..... to Australia. At that time there was no such thing as the DPB. Pregnant unmarried girls/women were not accepted in the workplace, I refused to be bundled off to Bethany in Auckland, and abortion was not only abhorrent to me but also illegal (carried out in underground clinics by (usually) unregistered doctors) so.... I bought myself some time and space to figure out what I was going to do.

I chose adoption when 6 months later I gave birth to a son. I didn’t have the confidence in myself to be able to parent this beautiful defenseless child. Walking out of the hospital after signing the Adoption Consent was agonizingly difficult......but not nearly as hard as the next few weeks with empty arms and a body screaming for a child.

Did I get over it? No. I don’t think any birth mother ever does. I’d go as far as to say that everyone touched by adoption suffers loss and lifetime scars. While we were told to move on….put it behind us and assured in time you would forget……I certainly didn’t forget or move on from the shame of handing my child, my first born to total strangers and no subsequent birth made up for the first child I left behind. I thought of him every day and hoped he had received my “inquisitive gene” and would come looking for me when he needed to know who his original parents were…. but after 30 years of waiting, I had really given up hope.

In 1985 the Adoption Act allowed veto’s to be registered by birthparent or adoptees if they did not want to be found and allowed birthparents and adoptees to access their original birth certificates. I registered my details so if he needed, he would have access to my contact details. I married 2 years later and had two children who completed the family. My husband knew about my birth son but apart from a couple of girlfriends and the birthfather, no one else knew…..including my family members.

May 2002 I received a letter from him. I finally knew that he was alive – well – and had a loving and caring family who had given him everything they could and allowed him to be his own person. Before we met we both tried to somehow get a feeling about the other’s life, especially answer the big questions, (why did I choose adoption and did you think of me often?). We exchanged letters and e-mails, and after 3 months, telephone calls…..6 months later we met in person.

That first meeting was so emotionally charged and something that will always be remembered as one of my life’s wonderous moments. There was this amazing young man who I created; he was so beautiful, had waited years for this meeting …. and was so scared. I knew a little of his life, his loves, and his personality, but at that meeting I got to hug him, stare at him, hold him and know he was real. We don’t look alike but then neither do my other two adults, but there are so many similarities. He walks like his brother, he frowns like I do, he’s got a smile that lights a room and is a storyteller, a clown and a party person like both his ½ siblings yet wears his heart on his sleeve. Like our family, he’s drawn to the ocean, surfs, sails, swims, and loves camping …………… and so it goes on.

I never grieved for what I lost in 1969, but meeting my first-born brought back much of the heartbreak that had not been dealt with at the time. I never talked about it, instead I suppressed it ….for 33 years. After contact I needed to work on the fears and shame before I could fully appreciate this beautiful young man and what he was offering me. I read everything I could and spoke to a Counselor friend who helped me some.. I was emotionally exhausted and over-the-moon all at the same time….. Having flash-backs to that time in 1969 and trying to come to terms with how my decision had hurt both me and my child.

For my sake…..I needed to tell my family members. My Mum was in her early 80’s and took it well, remarking on how it would have brought her to her knees if I had told her when it happened. My sisters were amazed but hurt I hadn’t trusted them enough to support me. My son was furious that I had kept it secret – he felt he had a right to know if he had a brother out there somewhere and it took us both a long time to move on from there. Our daughter played the mediator, but supported her brother. I realize now just how damaging family secrets can be. It had the potential to break a family. BUT..In the telling, came personal acceptance of what was and what could be possible in the future.

5 years on birth son and I have a comfortable relationship. I fly to Australia every 6 months or he flies here and we get to spend some quality time together. Ours is not like a mother/son relationship. He already has a mother. It’s a friendship born from being intrinsically linked – kinship is the closest definition I can find. He is included…..one of us….he feels it and knows the arms are always wide open. Recently he has found his birthfather and they have made arrangements to meet. I hope they too will find something that binds them.

He knows I love him with all my being…… and he knows how brightly he has coloured my world. I like to think that knowing me has made him more complete. He tells me the truth has allowed him to know who he is and what he is capable of. Our relationship is a growing thing that I trust will continue forever. I want to be friends with his wife (when he finds one). I want to be Granny to his children (if the has them). At present I’m supremely happy to have a share in his life. Today…..that is enough.

There’s another side of our Adoption Triangle – His Adoptive Family.
We have met, and they are lovely people. I could easily be friends with them. They found my inclusion in their son’s life very hard to understand initially (especially his sister) but can now see it was driven by his need and I could never replace them. He has two distinct families but only one set of parents…and their place is paramount.

I’d like to hear from other birthmothers out there. We (birthmothers/ natural mothers/ first mothers) must be scattered throughout Aotearoa. Between 1969 to 1971, something like 11,000 Kiwi babies were placed for adoption. That means there are at least 11,000 women out there who feel like I do/did, maybe have a secret that needs to be shared, and maybe this could be a place for us all to heal some of those old wounds and share stories.

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