I woke up one morning dreaming an old dream, one I used to have when I was a child. It would scare me, but today I am 18 years old, and I am not going to let this dream scare me. I focus on the dream, seeing a huge ladle come down into the Delaware River and pull out water, heavy water.
At once I am flooded with memories long forgotten of my uncle holding me on his lap and tickling me under my dress, then taking me upstairs to his bedroom. “Close your eyes” he says, and I do. Then he asks me to feel something. It feels like a stick. When I open my eyes awhile later, I can see myself through the window, across the street, standing in front of our garage. But I am physically here. My brain is protecting me.
I go to live with my sister Gail for a while this summer. She is also pregnant with a baby and is due 15 days later than I am. But I am not married. My sister is married and has 2 little girls. I enjoy babysitting for my sister, but when I have to go to the gynecologist, I am so torn. I am giving my baby away for adoption, but I am not prepared mentally or spiritually for this. I ask the gynecologist if he has any books on adoption and I break down crying. He leaves the room.
I try to talk to my sister about what my uncle did to me, but she just says: “He does that with everyone.”
I go home when the stress gets too much for me. I have my baby in August, but I was not given my baby to hold. I was very lonely in the hospital. I tell my father this when he calls me, and he comes to see me after work. He takes me to the nursery where we see my baby through the nursery window. He has a pixie face under his little hat, and dark hair. I named him Michael David, (for the sculpture David by Michaelangelo), not knowing if he will keep his name. Nor do I know that he will be taken into the arms of loving adoptive parents after a few days.
When I arrive home, no one talks to me about my having a baby and giving him up for adoption. My three sisters and my parents act as though nothing happened out of the ordinary. I get a job in a city nearby, and my boyfriend comes to the law firm where I am working. Although my parents forbid me to talk to him, I am talking to him now, telling him we had a baby on August 25th. I can’t remember what else we talked about. My oldest sister Nancy told me many years later that she talked to my boyfriend in her car to let him know that we had a baby boy and that I was okay.
My life went on. I got a job at Riegel Paper Mill, in the billing department. I didn’t like typing numbers all day, but I was good at math and it was a good paying job.
I keep working until I go to college in January of the next year. I am starting my life over again, and I do not look back. I have another boyfriend who I write to. He is going to college in San Bernardino, CA. And so I transition to my new opportunity to do well in school, and to make new friends.
But I do not tell my new friends about my having a baby and giving him for adoption, not until I graduate. I didn’t want them to think I was a horrible person. Back in 1965, it was unheard of for someone in the National Honor Society to become pregnant and have a baby “out of wedlock.” In fact, there were only one or two girls in the whole school who would be in this predicament. I felt so terribly guilty and didn’t want to bring shame down on my family. I would cry myself to sleep almost every night. I was depressed and hardly ate anything the last semester of my senior year of high school. I didn’t tell my mother until I was five months pregnant, and then because I needed new clothing. I weighed 115 pounds when I went to the gynecologist.
The only empathy I was shown was by my older sister Nancy who hugged me and said “It should have been me.”
The only person I told about my pregnancy and giving my baby for adoption was my new boyfriend in college. He was able to listen and not judge me and also comfort me as well. He also was able to share with me something that happened in high school that was painful for him to talk about. He is now my husband of 56 years.
My story continues in Chapter 2 - My Healing Journey………
Oh Jacqueline,
Thank you for sharing this heartbreaking story. Those in our generation really faced a different world, didn’t we? We held so much shame inside, and there were few people we could tell. I’m so sorry for the years of suffering you faced, mostly alone. How lovely that the person you told is still your husband today, and he didn’t judge you!
What a good thing that you are telling your story now.
Not only does this heal you, but I imagine there are others who read your story and relate.
I like the way you started with stories about meeting your son and welcoming him into your life. It’s nice to know that the pain you felt then led to such a wonderful relationship.
Jacqueline, thank you for trusting people with something so deeply personal. What struck me most was how much you were expected to carry in silence, both what happened to you and the loss of giving your baby up for adoption. The line about everyone simply carrying on as though nothing had happened really stayed with me. And then to end with the person who listened without judgement becoming your husband of 56 years… that was incredibly moving. I’ll be reading Chapter 2. ❤️