I have the writer’s permission – for which I am most grateful – to print this letter, one which touched me deeply for the deep losses the woman faced. I am grateful the “adoption process” has undergone many necessary modifications making this scenario extreme and unique. Thank you, dear writer, your letter may assist others to also speak up. 

Dear Rod: 

I have just read your article about Mothers who gave up their babies for adoption.  My heart bleeds for such mothers.  

I’m so sorry. 

But what about me?  

I was adopted. I am also so sad and heartsore that I never was given the opportunity to meet my Mother.

Let me tell you my story…..

I was given away as a two-week-old baby to an old Afrikaans couple.  I am 77 years now and have never forgotten the hardships I endured, day after day.  She was a disturbed, neurotic woman. Religion was her obsession and he was an alcoholic. 

I was beaten relentlessly with a stick, plank or by physical force. Slaps in the face was a common occurrence for any minor misdemeanor or suggestion. Never was I ever told that I was loved. Never was I loved, sympathized with if I was injured as all kids suffer minor accidents. I instead was sworn and cursed at and threatened that I would be given back to the orphanage if I didn’t behave.  I was blamed for anything that went wrong even if a light bulb fused. I was not a bad child. I studied hard at school and was well behaved.

Nobody told me that I was adopted whilst I was young and I only got confirmation of that in my late teens, but believe you me, I just knew that I was adopted and always wondered why did my Mother give me away?  

I knew there had to be a valid reason.

My adopted Father in a drunken stupor tried to kill me when I was 5 years old.  I got a big hiding for that, as if it was my fault. 

When I was 16 years old he tried to rape me several times.  But I fought back each time.  Why I never told any of my teachers I never knew.  I thought at that time it was my fault. 

I missed my Mother so much and always thought how wonderful it would be to meet her and always dreamt about her coming to fetch me from this hell hole.  

But sadly, it never happened.  

In my early thirties I could then afford to hire an agency to look for her. The Department of Adoption (or Welfare, I think it was called) gave me her name but was advised that she had passed away in her early forties. 

I was devastated and heartsore that I had never looked for her earlier in my life.  

I investigated her family and met her brother who told me that she was 16 years old when she was pregnant. Her Mother from a staunch Afrikaans background, forced her to give me up for adoption as it was a skande (SCANDAL) on the family name.  

He told me that once a year on my birthday, she would lock herself in her room and just sob and sob.  

How sad is that?  

I was also given the details of the man who was supposed to be my father. I met him and he clearly remembered my Mother very well and was shocked to hear that she had a baby. We had a blood test done and it was told to us that out of a very low percentage of men in Kwa Zulu Natal who could be my father, he fell within that category.  

That was a small bonus for me.

Adoption is a very sad part of life. 

Sometimes you are given to wonderful parents and sometimes to terrible parents.  

I do believe that for at least 5 years Social workers should stay connected with the adoptee. 

To the Mothers who gave up their babies, I feel for you with my whole heart and soul. 

I cry for you. 

I too would like to attend the lunch and would gladly be a guest speaker to all the Mom’s who gave up their babies. 

This is a wonderful service you are offering to the Mothers who gave their babies away. I applaud you.

God Bless you all.

NAME WITHHELD BY REQUEST