A Corner of My Heart

by Mark Seaman

  “Of course, I’m sorry we have kept you for so long.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t quite so understanding. “But we haven’t finished playing yet,” she said, looking decidedly unhappy at the prospect of her new play mate having to leave half way through a game. Mrs. Taylor smiled at her daughter, chiding her gently.

  “Now that’s not very nice is it, Elizabeth, remember what I said? Dear Ruth has to go back to see Mrs Blyth and finish her work there. She still has to care for Violet and Edward, at least for a while.”

  “But you said she could be my nanny?”

  “Well she can be if that’s what you would like, and providing of course that Ruth would still like to be a part of our home?” Mrs Taylor turned to me, a look of pleading in her eyes. “It appears the job is yours, Ruth, that is if you’d still like to join us?”

  “I’d love to; yes please, if that’s alright with you?” I looked down at Elizabeth who was jumping up and down in front of me. “And of course if it’s alright with you, Miss Elizabeth?”

  The little girl beamed. “Yes please.” She turned to her mother. “Can Ruth start tomorrow, Mummy, can she?”

  “Well maybe not tomorrow, but hopefully very soon.” She took Elizabeth’s hand and turned to me. “I will speak to Dorothy and arrange a date for you to start once they have agreed the final arrangements for their move to America, if that’s alright with you?” I nodded in agreement.

  “Can I suggest a month’s trial just to be fair to all parties?” She smiled again nodding towards her daughter. “Although I think there is little doubt how successful you will prove to be if this little lady is any sort of barometer to go by.” Elizabeth pulled away from her mother and grabbed my hand again, jumping from one foot to the other as she did so.

  “I’ll think of some new games to play when you come back, Ruth, so don’t be long.”

  Mrs Taylor and I looked at each other and laughed, encouraged not only by how well the two of us had got on, but more especially because we had gained the most important affirmation to our proposed relationship, that of young Elizabeth.

  “I apologise again for having kept you so long.”

  “Please don’t apologise I’ve had a wonderful time.” I looked down at Elizabeth. “And I hope I’ve made a new friend as well?”

  The three of us made our way downstairs and after assuring Elizabeth I would see her again soon she waved me off excitedly as we said our goodbyes.

  “Don’t forget to come back and play with me as soon as you can, Ruth.”

  Mrs Taylor and I shook hands and smiled at each other.

  “Thank you again, Ruth, I’m really looking forward to your joining us. I’m sure you’ll be very happy here.”

  As the large front door closed behind me I grinned to myself reflecting that I had gained not only a wonderful opportunity to care for a delightful little girl and her family but more especially I had found somewhere I might truly be able to settle and find myself once more after so many years of loss and insecurity. For the first time in a long while I felt a real sense of joy rise in my heart as I made my way confidently back to the Blyth’s to tell them of my good news and to prepare myself for this new and exciting chapter in my life.

  Eleven

  And so my life as a single mother began. Naturally I had the support of my parents, James and Carol, and would always be grateful for that but at the same time I knew I had to make a go of things for myself, and for Jenny. Once she arrived my life altered dramatically, even more than I had imagined, although Mum had tried to warn me of some of the changes I could expect. Dad converted the dining room into a bedroom come nursery for the two of us as my old bedroom was too small what with my bed, Jenny’s cot and everything else that was required for those first few months of her young life. We also turned my former bedroom into a small sitting room where Jenny and I could spend time together if we wanted to be alone, which we rarely did. In those early days I was grateful for all the support and advice I could get in how to bring up a new baby. Carol may not have been my birth mother but there wasn’t much she didn’t know or wasn’t able to advise me about in those first few weeks of my becoming a mum.

  She came in to our room one day when I was struggling with Jenny’s nappy.

  “Certain things may have changed, Mary, what with modern technology and ideas for bringing up babies, but one thing that never changes is the shape of their bottom, along with the need to clean them and change them. It’s not so much the folding of the nappy that’s the problem, but more in trying to keep baby from wriggling free when you’re attempting to put it on.” With that she took hold of Jenny’s legs and, raising them in the air, positioned her bottom onto the nappy and proceeded to wrap it around my daughter in one self-assured move, pinning it seamlessly into place. Whilst still wriggling around in protest Jenny allowed Mum to complete the process without the anger and tears she had displayed during my own inexperienced attempts. Clearly she recognised Mum’s confident authority or perhaps it was my own inadequacy that had provoked her earlier remonstrations.

  “The thing you need to remember, Mary, is what I said to you on the day we brought Jenny home from the hospital, that precious though babies are they don’t break when you handle them.” She laughed. “And sometimes you need to handle them quite firmly, as I’m having to do just now.” I smiled as I watched my little girl do her best to wrestle herself free from Carol’s determined grip as she fought a losing battle to keep Mum from completing the job of securing her clean nappy. Much as changing Jenny wasn’t my favourite job I did love to watch a washing line of her clean nappies blowing in the wind to dry. Mum said the same scene had given her a feeling of pride and a job well done when she had watched my nappies flap in the breeze on a sunny day during my baby years.

  The greatest lesson I learnt from Mum and Dad during those early days was the gift of unconditional love. It was something they had demonstrated towards me for as long as I could remember and were continuing to display with their unquestionable care and concern for Jenny. As time went on so that same unconditional love took root in me for my own beautiful baby as well. A child conceived perhaps in a moment of irrational thinking and juvenile fumblings on a bedroom floor, but now a living breathing human being in her own right, and one that consumed more and more of my heart and life with each passing day.

  In those early weeks of Jenny’s life Mum and I spoke at length about how she and Dad had come to adopt me and of the actual circumstances of the adoption process itself. This wasn’t so much the detail of why they had decided to adopt as they had already explained that earlier when I first got pregnant, but more the physical procedures and legal requirements necessary for adoption. I hadn’t realised before now that they had come to see me, or “view the baby” as the nun’s and the agencies had termed it, a few weeks before they had physically taken me from the home. Mum told me they had waited a few months before deciding to adopt once they discovered they couldn’t have any children of their own. Also, that in the late 1940s and early ’50s the process for adoption had been very different than today.

  “It took your dad and I some while to get over the fact we wouldn’t be able to have a baby of our own; before that we’d never really thought about adoption.” Mum also told me about the lengthy process she and Dad had had to go through and of their being vetted by the various agencies they had approached before finally finding me. I’d never heard of the Catholic Crusade for Orphans and Destitute Children before or the National Adoption Agency as it was called then, but Mum explained in those earlier days these were the traditional routes for prospective adoptee parents to pursue in the hope of gaining a baby or child for themselves.

  “We visited a number of homes and institutions before deciding on the one run by the nuns. They appeared to be the most caring, certainly as far as the welfare of the child was concerned, and that was the most important thing to us. We often felt awkward
, even guilty at times when looking at pictures of babies or in going into a room full of cots and trying to choose a child for ourselves when we knew they all deserved a loving home.” She paused, becoming emotional as the memory overtook her.

  “I said to your dad after a while that I couldn’t look at any more babies, viewing them as puppies or kittens in a pet shop and trying to decide which one we liked the best. That said, we knew from the moment we saw you that our search was over, it was as if you had been born just for us to love.”

  We smiled at each other for a moment with tears filling our eyes as we shared an embrace that said so much more than words could ever do.

  “It might sound silly, but I said to your dad when I held you in my arms that first time it felt as though God had healed the heartache I had been holding onto for so long after learning we couldn’t have children of our own. Far from being a substitute for the little girl we had lost we knew he had given you to us as a special gift, a precious new life to love and cherish in every way.”

  As she was talking I was reminded of the first time I had held Jenny in my arms and even though the circumstances of our becoming mothers had been very different the maternal bond we shared in that moment as we held each other close felt no less real. As we regained our composure Mum explained that following their decision to adopt me and after filling in all the various paperwork and gaining the necessary permissions and clearances from the differing agencies and authorities they were finally allowed to take me home.

  “Did you ever see her or meet her, my birth mother?”

  “No we never did. In fact we were told it wasn’t a good idea for her or for us. The nuns said she was just a poor girl who had got herself into trouble and couldn’t keep her baby.

  They said she didn’t want to keep you either and was grateful that we would take you on and that you would be going to a home where you could be cared for properly. So no, we never knew who she was, never wanted to if I’m honest, but I still thank her every day for bringing you into our lives. Apparently, many of the babies put up for adoption at that time were born to young girls who had got pregnant by mistake and had no husband or family to care for them. Even if they did, what with rationing still in place there was little money left to feed an extra mouth. And sadly a number of these young girls would have been rejected by their own parents and told to leave home and make their own way in life after bringing such shame on the family. Others might have been girls who had turned to prostitution to bring some money in and of course they didn’t have access to the pill in those days so any idea of contraception would probably have been left to the man.” Mum smiled at me. “And as you know yourself with Gerry, most of them keep their brains in their trousers and so are more interested in having their five minutes of fun than they are in giving any thought to the girl or the consequences of getting her pregnant.”

  I’d never really thought about how different things had been for girls back then. I tried to imagine for a moment how I might have coped if I had found myself in those circumstances. I looked at Mum and felt ashamed as I recalled those “five minutes of fun” Gerry and I had had which led to my own pregnancy. Mum took my hand, aware of my embarrassment.

  “I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty, Mary. I’m sure it was the same with you and Gerry, with him assuring you that everything would be okay right up to the moment you told him you were pregnant. Then no doubt he decided it was all your fault?

  His father certainly looked to blame you if you remember when we spoke to him about Gerry helping out with the costs of bringing up his baby.”

  I nodded sheepishly, acknowledging my part in letting Gerry go so far but also aware that if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have my beautiful daughter now.

  “The fortunate thing for you, Mary, is that you had your Dad and I to stand by you, but in those earlier days when babies were born outside of marriage attitudes and circumstances were often very different. You have to remember this was just a few years after the war and a lot of men had to find work wherever they could which often meant them travelling a long way from home. Then while they were away, and with men being men, they would get themselves involved with a young girl locally, not thinking about her again once they went home to their families, not until she declared herself pregnant that is. Then of course they would run a mile, not wanting the emotional or financial responsibility of a baby, especially if they already had a girlfriend, or perhaps even a wife back at home.”

  I looked at Mum, knowing she was trying to ease my concerns and say something positive in defence of my own mother even though she had no reason to. I counted my blessings in having such caring and understanding parents and knew they couldn’t love me more if they had actually been my birth parents. “Thanks Mum.”

  It was good to spend time talking together as we exchanged experiences about motherhood and in bringing up our respective daughters. We spoke again about my adoption and how the nuns had said they would expect to see my own mother back at the home within a couple of years with yet another unwanted mouth to feed. I was shocked to think this might be true and began to wonder perhaps if I had a brother or sister somewhere that I didn’t know about. Mum said in the late 1940s and early ’50’s about twenty-five thousand babies a year were born to young girls like my mother, and that the vast majority of those children would find themselves put up for adoption. Some girls apparently even tried to sell their babies just to make a bit of money on which to survive after living rough on the streets or in the appalling slum conditions that many of them had to endure in those days. Mum said she was grateful that she and Dad hadn’t met my birth mother because if she had proved to be as the nun’s portrayed her, careless and heartless, they might have looked at me through different eyes and have been put off the idea of adopting me altogether, viewing it as more of a business transaction rather than the act of love they had intended.

  “I know that might sound silly and that we shouldn’t determine our attitude towards others simply by what we’re told or presume to know about them, but sadly as human beings that’s something we do all too readily in every walk of life and often to our regret and shame.”

  As I sat there listening to her, my mind racing with the many thoughts and questions I had never truly considered or asked before, I realised I did want to know the truth about the circumstances of my birth, and not just for Jenny’s sake but also for my own. And who knows perhaps even for her, this woman I had never known nor met but who had brought me into the world, a world that was becoming increasingly fractured and distorted for me. This despite all the love and assurances I had been given, and continued to receive, from both Mum and Dad. I realised no matter what was said by others to comfort and reassure me, I did still need to hear for myself the true circumstances of how this young girl had become pregnant and brought me into the world. Also whether, as the nuns had intimated, she had been pleased to see me go or had cried out in protest as I was taken from her as I certainly would have done if my beautiful Jenny and I had been parted in such a dramatic way.

  Much as I knew I was loved by James and Carol a part of me suddenly felt bereft, as though I had lost my true identity. I needed to know who I was, along with how and why I’d come to be in this world. I also knew that if Jenny ever asked me similar questions in the future about her own birth I would want to be able to answer her, not only with honesty, but also with facts. I realised without actually meeting this woman and talking to her I would never really hold those truths, either for myself, or for Jenny should she ever want to hear them. I felt a sudden, almost, irrational panic to discover the truth. I knew if I didn’t grasp this opportunity I might lose it forever, along with the answers to so many unspoken and vital questions that where now demanding their answers.

  Carol struggled initially with my decision to seek out my mother but softened after a while, becoming more relaxed in her attitude as she accepted my need for information. I think she
also understood this wasn’t about my wanting to build a separate relationship with this other woman or, worse perhaps, that I might consider moving away altogether to be nearer to her, it was more in being able to understand the truth about my own birth, and as to why I had been given away at such a young age. If I could gain the answers to these and other unresolved questions I might be able to find a renewed sense of inner peace and belonging, not only in my relationship with her and Dad but within myself. This wasn’t about my wanting to leave but more about my truly coming home and finally being settled, both as their daughter and as mother to Jenny myself.

  “I’ll never stop loving you and Dad or want to stop being your daughter, but for all our sakes I need to know the truth.”

  “I know, sweetheart. It’s just tough for your dad and I. Old as you are, you’re still our little girl, and…” Her voice cracked. “We just don’t want to lose you, that’s all.”

  I tried to lighten her mood. “As if? You’re stuck with me now whether you like it or not. After all where else am I going to find a couple of live-in babysitters when I want to go out with my friends?”

  She laughed. “That’s the Mary we’ve come to know and love.”

  We smiled and held hands in silent recognition that, whilst the fabric of our relationship might be about to change, the love and commitment we had for each other would stand for all time.