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Authors: Kelly Rimmer
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heartbreaking to see Mum so hurt and to know that I was the one forcing the discussion.
‘Mum, of course I’m your daughter.’ I reached for her hand and held it tightly within mine. Her hands were bony, even her skin was thin. For the first time, I thought about my mother’s tiny, rake-thin build and my curves, the ones that I’d never quite curtailed. I had assumed that this was a failure in my character somehow, a lack of self-discipline. Could it have been simple genetics all along? ‘I love you guys. I appreciate the wonderful upbringing you gave me. But surely you can understand that now that I know this much, I need to know more.’
‘Well, I’m very sorry to tell you, but you just aren’t going to be able to find anything out. That’s not how things worked back then,’ Dad said tightly.
‘Surely there are some records—’
‘There just aren’t .’
There was a flat finality in Dad’s words. I released Mum’s hand slowly, then sat back in my chair and took a deep breath. Once I’d inhaled and exhaled again, and I felt like my temper was back under control, I met Mum’s gaze.
‘Are you really telling me that you could just decide to take a baby home and make it yours?’ I couldn’t fathom any hospital in the world just letting a random staff member help herself to some woman’s baby.
‘Our adoption criteria was pretty simple. All we were really concerned about was that we were placing babies with married white couples. It was brutally cruel, and brutally unfair, and racist and sexist and you can’t even imagine how awful it was.’ Mum’s words wavered around the edges. ‘But at the time, no one else – well, no one thought twice about it. That was just how things were.’ She slumped again. ‘When we told you it was a different time, I wasn’t kidding, love.’
‘Did you take me the day I was born?’
‘The day after.’
I was suddenly deflated, thinking about the speed of that and the implications of the timing.
‘So . . . she relinquished me within a day of my birth?’ I whispered. ‘She must really not have wanted me at all.’
‘That’s not really how it worked, Sabina,’ Mum said.
‘Well, explain it to me, Mum. How did it work?’
‘She was a minor, so her parents would have made the decision for her. A long time before you were even born – when she was first admitted to the home.’
‘So did she want me?’
I wasn’t sure what was worse; the idea that my birth mother might not have wanted to keep me at all, or that she might have wanted to keep me very desperately indeed, but had no way to achieve that.
‘We told you,’ Dad interrupted suddenly, but I saw his warning glance to Mum. ‘We don’t even know who she was, let alone what her private thoughts about the matter were. Mum is talking in generalisations.’
I turned my gaze to Mum but she was staring at the damned tea cup again.
Dad was lying to me? Still?
‘They don’t sound like generalisations.’
‘No, Dad is telling the truth,’ Mum whispered. ‘We had no idea which resident gave birth to you.’
‘So how do you know she was sixteen?’ I asked Mum softly.
‘That was a guess,’ Dad answered for her. ‘Most of the girls were teenagers.’
‘So why did you say six teen?’ I kept my gaze on Mum.
‘It was just a general—’
‘Dad!’ I turned to him, impatient with the game. ‘You can’t seriously expect me to buy that!’
‘You’re focusing on the wrong things here, Sabina,’ he said, with barely restrained impatience of his own. ‘Sixteen, eighteen, twenty – what does that minor detail even matter? What matters is that you had a home to go to and you weren’t lost to the system. God only knows what would have become of you if we’d allowed that to happen.’
I laughed then – a cynical, derisive snort that instantly drew narrowed gazes from both of my parents.
‘So what you’re saying is, you’re the heroes in this story, and I’m being an ungrateful
‘Mum, of course I’m your daughter.’ I reached for her hand and held it tightly within mine. Her hands were bony, even her skin was thin. For the first time, I thought about my mother’s tiny, rake-thin build and my curves, the ones that I’d never quite curtailed. I had assumed that this was a failure in my character somehow, a lack of self-discipline. Could it have been simple genetics all along? ‘I love you guys. I appreciate the wonderful upbringing you gave me. But surely you can understand that now that I know this much, I need to know more.’
‘Well, I’m very sorry to tell you, but you just aren’t going to be able to find anything out. That’s not how things worked back then,’ Dad said tightly.
‘Surely there are some records—’
‘There just aren’t .’
There was a flat finality in Dad’s words. I released Mum’s hand slowly, then sat back in my chair and took a deep breath. Once I’d inhaled and exhaled again, and I felt like my temper was back under control, I met Mum’s gaze.
‘Are you really telling me that you could just decide to take a baby home and make it yours?’ I couldn’t fathom any hospital in the world just letting a random staff member help herself to some woman’s baby.
‘Our adoption criteria was pretty simple. All we were really concerned about was that we were placing babies with married white couples. It was brutally cruel, and brutally unfair, and racist and sexist and you can’t even imagine how awful it was.’ Mum’s words wavered around the edges. ‘But at the time, no one else – well, no one thought twice about it. That was just how things were.’ She slumped again. ‘When we told you it was a different time, I wasn’t kidding, love.’
‘Did you take me the day I was born?’
‘The day after.’
I was suddenly deflated, thinking about the speed of that and the implications of the timing.
‘So . . . she relinquished me within a day of my birth?’ I whispered. ‘She must really not have wanted me at all.’
‘That’s not really how it worked, Sabina,’ Mum said.
‘Well, explain it to me, Mum. How did it work?’
‘She was a minor, so her parents would have made the decision for her. A long time before you were even born – when she was first admitted to the home.’
‘So did she want me?’
I wasn’t sure what was worse; the idea that my birth mother might not have wanted to keep me at all, or that she might have wanted to keep me very desperately indeed, but had no way to achieve that.
‘We told you,’ Dad interrupted suddenly, but I saw his warning glance to Mum. ‘We don’t even know who she was, let alone what her private thoughts about the matter were. Mum is talking in generalisations.’
I turned my gaze to Mum but she was staring at the damned tea cup again.
Dad was lying to me? Still?
‘They don’t sound like generalisations.’
‘No, Dad is telling the truth,’ Mum whispered. ‘We had no idea which resident gave birth to you.’
‘So how do you know she was sixteen?’ I asked Mum softly.
‘That was a guess,’ Dad answered for her. ‘Most of the girls were teenagers.’
‘So why did you say six teen?’ I kept my gaze on Mum.
‘It was just a general—’
‘Dad!’ I turned to him, impatient with the game. ‘You can’t seriously expect me to buy that!’
‘You’re focusing on the wrong things here, Sabina,’ he said, with barely restrained impatience of his own. ‘Sixteen, eighteen, twenty – what does that minor detail even matter? What matters is that you had a home to go to and you weren’t lost to the system. God only knows what would have become of you if we’d allowed that to happen.’
I laughed then – a cynical, derisive snort that instantly drew narrowed gazes from both of my parents.
‘So what you’re saying is, you’re the heroes in this story, and I’m being an ungrateful
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