“Can you hurry please, I don’t know if I can take it much longer!”
“I’m driving as fast as I can.”
The taxi careered through the streets of London, until it reached Paddington. He drove Miriam up to the entrance of St Mary’s hospital and two nurses placed her in a wheelchair and wheeled her into the maternity ward.
“Have your waters broken yet?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s good then. It sounds as if we have a little time. We may have to break your waters for you. How often are the contractions?”
“About every five minutes I think. Listen.” She gasped. “You need to contact a Mrs Bangerter. I am putting the baby up for adoption.” She shouted. She didn’t know where she found the energy to blurt this out, but Len wasn’t here to hold her hand. She couldn’t keep this child without him.
Miriam was wheeled into a private room and told to make herself comfortable on the hospital bed. The nurse had a radio on in the room with some classical music on.
“We tend to leave the radio on during the birth to make you more comfortable.”
“I can’t get comfortable, I’m in agony!”
“Just breath slowly, pant when I say so and push when you feel the baby pushing on your abdomen.”
She handed Miriam a mask attached to a machine.
“This will make you woozy. It’s gas and air.”
She breathed in its’ sickly contents. The nurse then broke her waters and she screamed in agony. The pain was getting worse and worse, like an avalanche descending on every part of her body. She breathed in heavily some more gas. She started to go in and out of consciousness and could hear the nurse saying she could see the baby’s head.
“Just keep pushing.”
She pushed and pushed with every muscle of her body. The nurse was now mopping her brow.
“Not long now Miriam.”
With every next push it was like a limb being torn away from her. And then that last push and the sound of a tiny baby crying. She wept and wept from the sheer exhaustion of it all. She had brought a new life into the world, a healthy baby girl, a baby that had been inside her for eight and a half months and was now in the real world.
“Can I hold her?”
“Best not to as she is going up for adoption. We wouldn’t want the baby to bond.”
“But I want to hold her. Please let me hold my baby girl!” She wailed.
“Now that’s quite enough of that nonsense young lady. You shouldn’t have got into this mess in the first place. She’s better off going to a proper family.”
And with that her baby girl was wheeled away in her cot. Miriam never got to touch her or to hold her. It was as if she had given birth and she had died. Tears were streaming down her face. The nurses gave her an injection to induce the afterbirth. This was like giving birth again except this time there was no baby crying at the joy of coming into the world. This was clinical, barbaric even, her body finally exhuming all remnants of her pregnancy. The nurses gave her a sedative and then wheeled her to the maternity ward. There were what seemed like rows and rows of beds with mums and their new born babies, some safely in their cots and sleeping, others fractious for milk. Many had their husbands cooing beside them. She had nothing but an empty cot and no man to comfort her. She wondered where her baby girl was sleeping? Was she with the nurses now or had Mrs Bangerter been in already to collect her, like some package? She stared at the entrance to the ward, willing Len to walk through those doors, but he never came. Slowly the sedative began to take effect and she drifted off to sleep.
“I hope your heart will find the way my darling, darling Michelle”.
MARJORIE 1967
LONDON
ON THE 12TH September Marjorie rang Mrs Bangerter. “Oh I’m so glad you called. We just received a new addition last week, a delightful baby girl.”
“When can I come and see her?”
“This afternoon if you like.”
Marjorie put the phone down and ran into the living room. Arthur was sat in his favourite arm chair reading the Telegraph. Seeing her excitement he put the paper to one side and removed his glasses.
“You won’t believe it.” She exclaimed excitedly. “ I’ve just received a phone call from Mrs Bangerter. She’s just received a newborn baby girl and she said we could go and see her this afternoon!”
“Oh darling I’m so pleased. But don’t you think though, we should tell the children’s officer Mrs Barnet. This is the first positive lead we have had?”
“I think that will ruin our chances. With any luck we might be able to agree a private adoption with the mother. Then we won’t need the authorities involved.”
The last thing Marjorie wanted to do was involve Mrs Barnet. So far she hadn’t come up with any solutions for them as far as Marjorie could see. If they got her involved she would start questioning their parenting skills and although Arthur had experience of babies, Marjorie had virtually no experience. It couldn’t be that difficult though she thought, I mean loads of women had children and mucked along.
That afternoon they jumped into the car and drove straight round to Ridgeway Avenue. On their arrival, Mrs Bangerter led them into the sitting room where there were a row of cots with tiny babies in them. The room smelt of sweet talcum powder. Mrs Bangerter led Marjorie to the cot at the end. There she was, the most beautiful baby girl, eight days old, very small with black hair. Her eyes were closed with her tiny arms splayed either side.
“I’ve spoken to the mother,” she said in a whisper to Arthur and Marjorie. “I’ve told her about you both and that you are interested in adopting her. She knows that you have been rejected because of your ages, but I don’t think she has a problem with that. To be honest, her emotions are all over the place at the moment. She is thinking of going to Ireland for a few weeks to mull things over.”
Marjorie was over the moon that they might have found their baby. Arthur and her decided to go and see her mum in Margate and whilst there, they went to see a solicitor and told him about the possibility of having a baby. He advised them to get a letter from the mother saying something to the effect that she was glad they would look after the baby for her, otherwise they might be accused of kidnapping. He also advised them to re write their Wills.
On Tuesday 17th October, the day after they returned from Margate, They went to see Mrs Bangerter again. She had heard nothing from the mother. Marjorie was desperate to know whether she would agree to them having the baby. If she didn’t agree, then they might not get another chance.
“If only I knew where she was, I’d go and see her myself.” Marjorie blurted out.
“I seem to remember that I scribbled her sister’s address somewhere. I don’t see any harm in going to see her. I will have to release these babies soon to the Adoption Agency.”
She rummaged through some papers in the drawer in the kitchen. After what seemed like an eternity she came back with a brown envelope with the address on it, 14 Danvers Road. Now all Marjorie had to do was meet the mother.
MIRIAM 1967
LONDON
MIRIAM’S SISTER CAME to collect her the next day after she had given birth and over the following days, she just wept and wept, aching for the love of her baby. No one had prepared her for the trauma of giving up her child. She was told she could remain in contact with Mrs Bangerter, but under no circumstances was she to go and see the baby, that she was doing the right thing by her, by putting her up for adoption. A week later, she received a phone call from Mrs Bangerter to say that she had been approached by the woman, again, they had talked about, and was she still interested in a private adoption? She said they were a happily married couple who had been trying for a baby for some time and that they were desperate to adopt a baby. If Miriam went for a private adoption, then she would have the opportunity of meeting the adoptive parents, something that would not happen under the normal adoptive process. Miriam said she would think about it as her emotions were all over
the place.
About a month later, just before the six week period was up for Michelle to be placed up for official adoption, Miriam and her sister were sitting in their flat at Danver’s Road, when they heard a knock on the door.
“Who’s that? Are you expecting anyone sis?” Miriam said
“You stay there. I’ll go and get it. I don’t want anyone seeing you in this sort of state.”
Her sister ran down the stairs and opened the door. She could hear an exchange of voices, with a lady, and came to the door.
“Hi I’m Marjorie.”
“You’re the lady that wants to adopt Michelle?”
“Yes.”
“You’d better come in.”
They sat down and chatted for a while. She seemed a nice enough lady, desperate for a child. Miriam confirmed no one knew about this baby in the family except her sister and that it should stay that way. She told her that she was hoping that the father would acknowledge Michelle, but he had not come forward.
“We’ve been trying so long to have a baby, to make our lives complete. You can be assured we will love her as our own.” She said pulling at the hem of her dress. Miriam stared at her sister who was shrugging her shoulders as if to say, what other option do you have? Miriam so needed to get away from the situation that was enveloping her. She had begun to set her mind on taking up a situation as an air stewardess or a cruise stewardess, anything to take her away from the unglamorous situation she had got herself into.
“Do you work Marjorie?”
“No.”
“That’s good, I don’t approve of working mothers. My sister knows I don’t approve of her working, but that is her decision.”
“My husband has a good job in the City, I can’t ever see the need for me to work.”
“We thought about my sister looking after Michelle, but Social Services advised against it. In any event my family are fiercely Catholic. They won’t accept the baby, unless I marry the father. Can I offer you a drink or anything?”
“No thank you.”
She asked Miriam to describe what the father was like and she told her. She also told her a bit about her own family. Marjorie said it would help to have this information to impart to Miriam’s baby if she agreed to Marjorie looking after her. She asked if Miriam would mind changing Michelle’s name to Rosie as her husband liked that name.
Miriam said she would be happy to sign the papers and for her to change her daughter’s name to Rosalie. The whole conversation was entirely surreal, but she had no other option. She had decided to travel to take her mind off things and come to terms with her loss, of her baby and Len. If she didn’t agree now, then her baby would be offered up for adoption to a person she had never met. This lady seemed kind, well educated and financially capable of looking after her baby. Most importantly she did not have to go back to work, preferring to remain a housewife.
“If anything should happen to Michelle, I mean Rosie, you will try and let me know? I mean I don’t want her to end up in a Children’s Home. Any letter sent to Cork with my surname will eventually reach me as we are the only family with that name. However I must stress again, that my Family don’t know about this.”
“Of course.” She replied. They sat in silence for a few moments, the three of them in the sitting room, discussing the future of Miriam’s baby that she hadn’t even had a chance to hold. It was as if she didn’t exist, but she was still every part of her soul. Yet whilst her soul was willing her to keep her, her body was not able to cope.
“There is just one thing.” She said. “My lawyers have asked me if you could give me a letter, to say that you agree to me looking after Rosie. I am sorry to trouble you, but would that be possible?”
“I’ll do it now.”
And with that Miriam got up from the sofa and walked to the small writer’s desk in the corner. She picked up a fountain pen and a piece of paper and faced the wall, so Marjorie couldn’t see the tears streaming down her face as she wrote the letter.:-
14 Danvers Rd
London N8
18th October 1967
Dear Mrs Ronson
I am very glad you are able to look after my daughter and feel sure she will be very happy with you.
Yours sincerely
Miriam Sullivan-Cody
The lady thanked Miriam and then got up to leave.
“Just a moment.” Miriam said “I’ve got something to give you.” It was a spider plant that she had been given at the hospital. It symbolized a connection to her baby. “Please take it?” The woman hesitated. Miriam understood that Marjorie wanted there to be a limited connection between them. Perhaps this threat of her gift frightened her?
“Please take it. It would mean so much if I knew you were watering and nurturing it for me like you are Rosie.”
The lady took it and then climbed down the stairs and left the apartment.
“What are you going to do now sis?”
“I honestly don’t know. All I know is that I have to get away from here. I’ve still got some cash left over that Len gave me. May be I’ll work on a cruise liner in the Mediterranean, or something.”
That night Miriam fell asleep with a heavy heart. It was like some huge bereavement weighing on her shoulders. She realized that the adoption would have to be formalized at some stage. She supposed she didn’t want to confront the issue, which felt like some dirty secret. All she had done was agree to let someone else look after her baby for the time being. She prayed hard that night for the safe keeping of her baby.
MARJORIE 1967
LONDON
AFTER LEAVING MIRIAM’S at Danver’s Road, armed with a spider plant, Marjorie raced back round to Mrs Bangerter’s. She was so elated, she hadn’t even found the time to tell Arthur.
“She’s agreed to me having Rosie!” She exclaimed to Mrs Bangerter. The woman led Marjorie into the kitchen, and sat her down on the chair next to the window overlooking the garden. She could see the leaves on the trees turning to an autumnal shade of yellow, the October sunshine picking out their slightly burnt hue.
“That sounds brilliant news.” She said “But have you got anything in writing?”
“Yes, yes I’ve got it here.”
She reached in to her bag and slowly pulled out the letter and began to unfold it. It wasn’t much, but it was all the lawyer had asked for. Mrs Bangerter took out some reading glasses from their case on the kitchen table, with a click and briefly scanned over the document.
“You know this is all highly irregular Marjorie, but I do want to help. I should really tell Social Services you know.”
“Oh please don’t, they will be all over us like a rash, but I do want to adopt her you know legally, just as soon as the lawyer can get the paperwork together.”
“Just be careful, because at your age, they only give foster rights to you. My experience is, the longer you leave it the better.”
Marjorie’s heart was still racing. When she had gone round to the mother, that afternoon, she hadn’t expected her to be so compliant. It was as if she wanted the whole episode to be kept secret as well. She had said time and time again, that she didn’t want her parents to find out. Now Marjorie desperately didn’t want the authorities to get involved.
“I’ll tell you what I can do. I can ring moral welfare officer and tell her that the mother has decided to keep the baby and that there is no need for her to be put up for adoption.”
“But the mother has agreed.”
“Yes, I know Marjorie, but by doing this, I can keep social services off your back. You can apply for a full adoption order in the fullness of time. You might decide, you don’t need to adopt her. The authorities don’t always know what is in the best interests of the child.”
“That’s what I am worried about, that if I don’t adopt her, she might decide she doesn’t want to be adopted.”
“I am sure that won’t happen.”
“Can I see her?”
“Of course, I’ll take yo
u through and make that phone call shall I?”
“Thanks.”
She led Marjorie into the sitting room where all the cots were. Rosie was in the cot furthest away from the door. She was wrapped up in her little hospital blanket sleeping. Marjorie gently stroked her forehead. She was still so tiny, it looked as if her limbs might break. Mrs Bangerter had told her that she had been slightly premature, but because she had taken to her bottle, was putting on weight nicely.
“That’s it.” She whispered. “I’ve made the phone call. Why don’t you come back tomorrow and I’ll show you how to bath her, and how to put her nappy and so on. Oh dear, wait a minute, I have to go to a funeral tomorrow.”
“Oh don’t worry I can babysit, if you like.” Marjorie offered “Give me a chance to get to know Rosie.”
“Great, that’s sorted. I’ll see you around 11 o’clock tomorrow.”
Marjorie said her goodbyes and jumped into the car back to Barnet. It was now nearly 7 o’clock and Arthur was due at the train station. She decided to go and pick him up and tell him the good news about Rosie. She stood on the platform waiting for the train to draw into the station. As all the commuters piled out of the train she could see his distinct overcoat in the distance. She ran towards him and put her arms around him much to the consternation of the ongoing travellers.
“You’ll never believe it! Miriam has agreed.”
“What to us having the baby?”
“Yes! And we get to call her Rosie.”
“When do we get to see her?”
“Soon, I think. There is so much we need to think of.”
The following morning, Marjorie went round to babysit. Mrs Bangerter showed her how to bath Rosie and feed her and then left for the funeral. Her daughter stayed behind to look after the other children. Marjorie picked Rosie up and cradling her in her arms walked towards the kitchen. She had already warmed a bottle of milk in case she cried. Sure enough she started howling straight away, and wouldn’t take to her bottle at all. Oh no, Marjorie thought, I’m not a natural at this whatsoever. Maybe this was why I couldn’t have children. She tried putting her back down in her cot, but she still carried on screaming. By the time Mrs Bangerter came back Marjorie was panicking.
Abandoned Love Page 12