Ten Doors Down

by Robert Tickner

  When I cleaned out my mother’s house, long after she had passed away and Greg had moved to an aged-care complex, I found that, in 1995, she had applied for her and my records from the Crown Street Hospital where I was born, but in secret — such a private person was my mother, and so damaged was she by the time she spent in that hospital and its aftermath. I deeply regret that she chose not to share her pain with anyone, including Greg or me, but that is just how it was for her. The hospital records were forwarded to her on 22 May 1995, and the covering letter reminded her that support and counselling services were available from the Post Adoption Resource Centre. I don’t believe she ever took up that offer.

  The records show that my mother was admitted to the hospital on 28 November 1951 after being an outpatient. She was 37 weeks pregnant at the time and 22 years old. She spent her birthday — 9 December — in that hospital, and was 23 by the time I was born on 24 December, after she had spent eight hours and 38 minutes in labour.

  Among the records, there’s a signed consent form for medical procedures that states, ‘This is to certify that I have given my consent to have myself operated on or whatever treatment is considered necessary by doctors, under general anaesthetic.’ The space on the form for Maida’s next of kin was left blank, and I am reminded again how courageous my mother was to embark upon this birth largely on her own.

  The records also include a photocopy of an ‘adoption card’, dated 24 December 1951 (the day of my birth), which states the baby’s name as ‘D Beasley’. There is another notation on this very small card that refers to ‘Social history findings’, with the outcome, ‘Satisfactory’. The adoption was approved by a doctor, and the ‘Infants chart’ states that I was born at 1.25 am, weighed 7 pounds 12 ounces, and was 22 inches long.

  There are other extensive records concerning my mother, noting what she ate and of course the drugs she was given, but they’re written in undecipherable handwriting.

  Another form, headed ‘Medical examination on discharge’, shows that I was discharged from hospital on 11 January 1952, and states that I’d been ‘bottle fed’ and weighed 7 pounds 11 ounces. Although the form doesn’t disclose this detail, I know I was collected that day by my new mother and father, Gwen and Bert Tickner, and taken to 18 Lansdowne Street, Merrylands.

  My original birth certificate — which neither my mother nor I saw until over 40 years later — was witnessed by a Doctor Nicholson and a Sister Palmer on 10 January 1952. My new parents were issued with a new birth certificate for me on 8 May 1952, after the completion of all the adoption procedures.

  Also interesting to me is the fact that one of the records shows my mother’s address as the Tresillian Home in Willoughby, Sydney, although my birth certificate shows her address as 331 Stacey Street, Bankstown. Another hospital form has my mother’s family address in Orange, but it’s been crossed out and replaced with the address of the Tresillian Home. Perhaps my mother moved from Stacey Street to the Tresillian Home before my birth.

  What these records do not show is how my mother felt, alone in this big Sydney hospital, without any real support, as events unfolded around her over which she had little or no control.

  In early 2016, Greg’s financial circumstances finally required the sale of his and Maida’s home at 38 Lansdowne Street, where they had lived for all those decades. The sale also sadly severed my own connection with Lansdowne Street, which had played such an important part in my life since I was taken there as a two-week-old baby in January of 1952. My adopted grandmother’s and aunt’s houses had both long since been sold.

  It took weeks to clear Greg’s house, and I kept coming across precious memories in so many of the cabinets and cupboards. There was one find that I nearly missed, as it was concealed at the back of the very top shelf of Maida and Greg’s bedroom cupboard. This secreted and tightly guarded document knocked me for six.

  Maida had written down her recollection of the circumstances leading to our first meeting in 1993 on the steps of the Sydney Opera House, and her deepest feelings about our reunion. I remembered encouraging her to do this, just as I had done, but obviously the emotions were still so raw for her that she hadn’t shared it with me. I don’t know for sure, but I am almost certain that she hadn’t shared it with Greg, either.

  For me, my mother’s words are just the tip of the iceberg of the grief that consumed her following my adoption. To me, they represent the grief and pain felt by all relinquishing mothers and their children. There were many tens of thousands of people whose lives were, and continue to be, affected by the laws and government policies of that time — laws that were fundamentally flawed. In my mother’s case, the pain lasted a lifetime and left her unable to have further children because of the all-consuming fear that she would lose them as she had lost her first.

  Our adoption reunion was a turning point in my mother’s life, as her words below make clear, and we became integral to each other’s lives for the next 20 years. Finally, my mother was able to experience love, peace, and contentment.

  On Tuesday 22nd December 1992, on arriving home from work my husband Greg asked me if I knew a Sandra. He said she rang and he told her I’d be home at about 6.30. My reply was that I could not place a Sandra and if she wanted me she would ring again.

  Then I saw a letter for me which I commenced to open. I KNEW.

  Immediately went to the bedroom and sat down before commencing to read the letter. Felt I was in another world. After some minutes, gathered my thoughts together and knew I had to privately ring Sandra before 6.30 pm. Remembered seeing Mrs Hunt [next-door neighbour] on her front verandah seat and, trying desperately to control myself, asked if I could use her phone.

  Sandra’s voice was so gentle and she asked me if I knew why she had asked me to ring. I said yes. Sandra explained that the person concerned wanted to contact me. Sandra talked; I cried. Sandra mentioned the person was a public figure. She wanted me to understand that he was a well-known person and very much wanted to make contact. She then asked if I was surprised about the public figure and I said quietly, ‘No, not really’. Asked Sandra who the person was and she seemed hesitant so I asked again. Sandra told me, but at that stage could not place the person. Do not know at what stage the name and face began to connect in my mind.

  After leaving next door, went for a slow half-hour walk.

  On arriving back home, sat at the table to eat my cold meal when Greg asked me where I had been. Managed to pick up a knife and fork before the floodgate opened.

  At 12 noon on Wednesday 23rd December 1992 arrived at the Ferguson Centre Adoption office, Community Services. Very weepy. Sandra and I talked for two hours then Sandra gave me a letter from HIM and a photo of HIM and his wife and first new baby. A traumatic moment. It was a beautiful letter and beautiful photo. Felt so proud and honoured.

  Robert suggested that perhaps I may like to make contact with him on his 41st birthday on 24th December and enclosed his fax and phone numbers. I was emotional and overwhelmed. At 5 am on 24th made up my mind to contact him on his birthday, but not by phone. Could not cope with hearing his voice. As I was not sure where HE was I rang his office in Sutherland to find out if he could receive a fax. My message was ROBERT, HAPPY BIRTHDAY. MAIDA. Later when told I had revealed where I worked [Parramatta City Council letterhead on the fax] I wished the earth would open up and swallow me. How could I be so stupid? EASY!!! Robert’s comment was that I would not make a good spy.

  After Christmas I replied to Robert’s letter and enclosed three photos of myself. As a 15 year old girl, one taken at Cyn’s wedding and one of me holding Jessica [niece] in Angel Place. In my letter requested a photo of Robert showing his whole face.

  All mail between Robert and myself went through Sandra due to the veto we had both placed with Community Services.

  Robert’s next letter was 22 pages and enclosing 25 photos with expansions written on the back of each photo. Was
able to see the face of Robert, Jody, Jade and baby Jack. What a wonderful moment. Jade at Robert’s request made eight pages of writing paper as Robert wanted this to be a family affair. Must add Robert’s writing leaves a lot to be desired. His teachers told him this was to cover up for his spelling errors.

  On the back of one photo Robert gave the address of his grandmother in Lansdowne Street. Greg bought our land at 38 Lansdowne Street in 1955 and commenced to build. Each weekend I visited Greg to help him. We were married in August 1957 and lived at that address. One great shock was to learn that Robert’s grandmother had lived at 18 Lansdowne Street and that two of his aunties lived at 6 Lansdowne Street and 9 Carhullen Street, Merrylands. In the intervening years I wondered how many times I passed this house NOT KNOWING, NOT DREAMING.

  Found out later the information of Robert first meeting Jody as a baby at 18 Lansdowne Street [in 1960]. What a coincidence — unbelievable.

  From the time of first contact with Sandra to Robert’s 22 page letter was a period of about three weeks and during this time I found it very hard to concentrate at work and my eyes were often moist. Also sleeping badly, only for a few hours per night. Saw Robert a few times on TV as the Aboriginal Minister and heard him interviewed by Owen Delaney on radio. Greg taped and videoed Robert’s interviews, so I would ask Greg to replay and replay each of them each night. I never really heard what Robert said as I was too occupied searching his face.

  Thursday 14th January Robert had an interview with Sandra. Hurried home as the thought of both of us being in Parramatta at the same time was most distressing. At home that night, again studied the photos Robert had sent me. Suddenly looked up and he was being interviewed on TV. Felt like being in a trance and thought, THAT MAN ON TV AND THAT MAN IN THE PHOTOS IS SUPPOSED TO BE CONNECTED TO ME BUT HE IS NOT. I DO NOT KNOW HIM. Suddenly became very distressed and agitated and realised it was because I had NEVER touched him. My pain at that moment was almost unbearable.

  Later that night I experienced such peace and calm. I had made my decision and accepted the situation, to proceed forward. Rang Sandra 9 am Friday 15th and said we must meet. Sandra then said Robert cancelled an appointment on Thursday and would be coming into Sydney that afternoon and she should tell me when he arrived. Sandra rang about 4.40 pm on Friday and said, ‘GUESS WHO IS IN MY OFFICE’. The tears flowed. So close and yet so far away. Robert had also brought in some lovely flowers from his own garden and these I picked up from Sandra after work and after Robert had left. What a beautiful gesture.

  The first convenient day Robert had was Wednesday 20th January so it was arranged we meet at the Opera House Steps at 11 am.

  Left home at 9 am and arrived in town at 10 am. Spent half an hour watching the water service scoop up rubbish near Circular Quay. Sometimes I watched people coming and going and wondered who they were meeting. Felt my feet were not on the ground. I was being propelled by destiny. Not afraid of meeting Robert, only nervous.

  Walked slowly towards the steps and on the way saw a poor innocent man sitting on a seat by himself. Finally decided it was not Robert spying on me.

  Arrived at the Opera House steps a few minutes to eleven. Looked quietly around and thought, HE’S NOT HERE YET. God, don’t tell me he’s sitting on a seat over there watching me. TERROR.

  I looked up and saw a tall dark-haired man waving to me, pointing to himself and calling out, ‘IT’S ME, IT’S ME’. It took a few seconds to register it was Robert. Took one step up to him as he hurried down and hugged me. Finally I said, ‘I WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE’. He pulled his head back and said in such a voice, ‘HERE I AM’. OH OH!

  One thing which made me laugh later was Robert hurrying down the steps calling out, ‘IT’S ME, IT’S ME!’ A lady was somehow between Robert and me. She kept looking at Robert as he descended towards her. Suddenly she looked down and saw me and very quickly removed herself from the scene.

  It is now twelve months down the track and it has been a wondrous year.

  I am so proud of my beloved son Robert. I can never find words to express what is in my heart.

  Through all the tears, uncertainty, roller-coaster of emotions and sleepless nights, my dear husband Greg has always been there for me. So patient, understanding and positive.

  My heartfelt appreciation also goes to our friend Sandra. Sandra’s gentleness, warmth and dedication made it all happen.

  So many caring people have played a part in this story. Jody, Jade, Jack and my dear family.

  MY HEART IS FULL.

  BEAUTIFUL MIRACLES DO HAPPEN.

  Acknowledgements

  Despite the changes in the law in New South Wales and other states allowing adoption reunions to occur, many women and their adopted children continued to suffer greatly, and for so many years the injustices they had experienced remained hidden and the hurt continued. I want to acknowledge here the incredible courage and legacy of the women whose political actions and lobbying persuaded governments to conduct public inquiries and investigations into past adoption practices, and to hold people and institutions accountable for what happened to tens of thousands of Australian women and their children. As a result of these investigations, all Australian governments, including the national government, made formal apologies for those past practices. For thousands of surviving mothers in particular, these actions were welcomed and applauded as setting the historical record straight. Without these women and their achievements, a terrible injustice would have gone unacknowledged. I salute them all.

  I also want to acknowledge and applaud the courage and tenacity of those many women and their supporters who campaigned for so long for the reform of the adoption laws in Australia, which gave rise to adoption reunions such as the one I was privileged to experience. They were able to secure the cross-party support of the New South Wales parliament to achieve this law reform: a wonderful achievement.

  The clever management of my own reunion is a testimony to the wisdom of all those who had a hand in the preparation of the adoption legislation that made it possible. I particularly want to pay tribute to the past work of the New South Wales Legislative Council Standing Committee on Social Issues, chaired by Ann Symonds, MLC, which, in 1988, began an inquiry into the issue of access to adoption legislation. This all-party committee recommended changes to the law, which were subsequently implemented, and which enabled me to meet my birth families. For that, I am forever grateful.

  I shared drafts of this book with a wide range of family and friends, and I thank them all for their advice, encouragement, and wise counsel. In addition to family members, this includes the following people: Olga Havnen, Linda Kelly, Graham Cochrane, Jill Hill, Michael Raper, Diane Hudson, Michael Refshauge, Anne Ditton, Alison Dryer, Marjorie Newman, Norman Grant, Terry Holstein, and Christine Logan.

  To my publisher Scribe Publications, so wonderfully led by the renowned Henry Rosenbloom, I owe a particular debt of gratitude for believing that this adoption reunion story was worth telling. I thank Anna Thwaites for her editorial advice and professional final edits of the manuscript.

  My friend Nicola O’Shea helped with earlier insightful and invaluable structural advice and undertook a preliminary edit of the manuscript, and I am so grateful for her work.

  Anne Newman was a constant source of forthright advice and encouragement, and I could not have written this book without her.

  Finally, I want to thank my family for allowing me to tell this story.

  Balmain, August 2019

 

 

 
s="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share