My Adoption Story

This is where it all began!
Methodist Babies Home SouthYarra Victoria
Year: 1965

Quite an impressive and lavish looking place; I visited the site of the home a number of years ago while under going fertiltiy treatment for our first son and found it still amazingly existed - in the sense of the building itself still being there.  Astonished with what stood before me, the home in which I spent almost the first two months of my life in still struck me as impressive, although now it was home for so many in a traditional way having been turned into apartments. 
I found a strange sense of belonging as I did a sense of sadness while standing outside the entrance; a surreal experience as some would describe it.  I wished I could have walked right on through and recall where my cot once was or perhaps remember the sound of other screaming babies who once shared a mutual early existence as I had.  Instead silence fell over my whole being momentarily as I looked on in awe and took photographs.  Drawn to the right wing of the main building I was left wondering if that had been the room in which I was kept, fed, slept and even viewed by how many couples before being invited to become their family - something I will never know.

My parents have never described the environment they were first introduced to when they came to collect me.  They had recieved prior news that a baby girl had become available for adoption, and consequently arrived at the babies home in anticipation to become the parents of their second adopted child.
As my mother recalls, the staff handed me over for a feed and politely told my parents if they weren't happy with me, there was no obligation to take me home.  'Not happy with me?'  I bet many childless couples these days would choke on such a statement, and just for the record no I didn't and still don't have two heads or any limbs missing; no quite the contrary - nothing missing and quite a cute baby.
Obviously happy with what they saw, my parents took me home -  a tender two and half months old with my adoption being legalised through an adoption order six months following in April 1966.  In 2002, I requested copies of my adoption order containing details relating to my birth parents, the circumstances outlined for my placement under adoption and came across some very interesting facts about myself and the life that could have been.  A life that could have been where I would have had a whole different identity, name, parents, address, sisters, brothers and extended families; a completely different upbringing, possibily different interests, morals etc.  And yes, I sometimes do wonder what if?  For one, I actually am quite partial to the christian name given to me by my birth mother - which obviously isn't the name I have now, yet while there are areas that attract my interest, there are others which scare me even today, leaving me torn between where my comfort zone starts and finishes. 
If only we could remember our time as babies, or is that all erased from our memories for a reason?  For those children fortunate to be born into this world within loving surrounds, and with parents who don't falter then that thought could almost be substainable, but as we all know thats not the reality of life.  And as I have learned life is not always what you make of it either; unfortunately some of us are dealt our cards and then need to make the most of it.  This can be both positive or negative, it really depends I believe on your own state of personal affairs.  I see myself now as an adult quite strongly opinionated, I know what I want and don't want and not scared to say it, but as a child things were quite very different.  I was a shy girl with little confidence, I continuously had a need to prove my self worth, but why?  My parents were always very encouraging, so did this inadequacy come from my birth experience?
My relinqhuisement was due to my birth mother already having one child to care for and I believe her family possibly played a large part in her decision making in relinqhuising me for adoption.

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