True Account
Maybe Tomorrow
I’d always known I was adopted
Clarification — In this article I talk about my Mum; the woman who brought me up. And my birth-mum; the woman who physically gave birth to me.
When I started primary school I used to tell everyone –
“I’m adopted.”
“What’s that mean?” My classmates would ask.
“My… Mum… chose me.” I would say with pride.
Mum described it to me in that way. I’d always known I was adopted. The picture in my head consisted of a room full of babies in cribs and prospective parents walking along the rows until they saw a child who took their fancy. Pointing,
“I’ll have this baby please.”
Of course, the reality was very different.
My teenage birth-mum, a Catholic, became pregnant in the late ‘60s.
Later, when I found out my birth-dad was a sailor, I envisaged the conception taking place down a dark alleyway before he was summoned back to the ocean by the sound of a ship’s horn blowing in the background. I’d probably seen too many adult movies.
I was born in a Catholic mother and baby unit. My birth-mum had agreed to give me up while pregnant but once I was real, and in her arms, she wrote to…
