I was born and raised a Catholic. A happy, rosary-bead-swinging, white confirmation-dress-wearing Roman Catholic.
For a while I went to church everyday, and certainly every Sunday without fail; I did the Stations of the Cross, and I knew my Catechism by heart. I truly believed a sacrament was an outward sign of inward grace, and I carried my bible to my religious school … well, religiously.
I’ll never forget how the scales fell from my eyes and how my faith dropped through the floor. One evening in 1978, as the Sunday mass concluded, I waited breathlessly, glued to the pew, next to my washboard-stiff mother for the incense and congregation to disperse. Then we crept, shamefaced and meek, to the back of the eerie, now almost black, space. There, the priest met us; looming with bad breath, he leaned over reaching into the Catholic directory, “We’ll send the girl there.” His fat finger pressed an indistinguishable address. It might as well have been a location in Timbuktu — not Birmingham — it was a million miles from my home in Stoke.
Another priest came to collect me. He wasn’t just a priest, no, he was also my social worker. I was deposited at St. Paul’s mother and baby home. My hard-up parents paid handsomely to have me taken off their hands, anticipating I would give my baby up for adoption, and then return to ‘normal’.
During my pregnancy, from six to nine months, I laboured every day in the St Paul’s on-site laundry, filling and emptying industrial washers and dryers. I ironed sheets until my chest heaved and my arms ached. My priest / social worker checked in on me regularly, looking after my soul and telling me how bad I was.
As the girl in the bed next to me, in the room we shared, went hysterically and fearfully into full-blown labour, my faith fractured.
I knew then, with unshakable certainty, that I was next, and the priest / social worker was cruel. It wasn’t a thought, it was a feeling. Who treats girls that way?
The Church has form for looking away
As the sins and deviations of the Church keep coming light, I find the resignation of the Most Reverend Justin Welby, ex Archbishop of Canterbury no surprise. The Church has form for looking away.
Between the 1940s and the 1980s, right across the UK, from Roman Catholics to the Church of England, almost all religious orders had mother and baby homes, and so very many of us were sent away. More than 215,000. So many babies were taken from mothers without consent. The cruel church caused untold trauma.
Returning to the mother and baby home
In 2017, I was driving south, down the M6. On a whim, I drove into Coleshill to look at the place where I’d been incarcerated. It triggered an emotional avalanche. Suddenly I wanted to know why? Why me? It was a transformative moment; it lead me to apply for my records and then to Birkbeck University of London where I completed a MFA in creative writing by writing a girl-to-teen memoir. Over the last year I’ve also written Taken: Experiences of Forced Adoption.
Recently, that whim propelled me to send in my invoice for my unpaid labour (I’m still awaiting settlement!).
In the last few days I looked again at the photograph of myself, taken by a stranger, as I stood outside the home. I wanted a record of the moment I voluntarily returned. I see my hands awkwardly clasped. I see a worry-worn face and my unresolved gaze. I see my girlish uncertainty and fear.
I see my deepest fears revealed by my pose. Do you?
The Church was cruel and needs to atone.
3 Comments
Rosie Schneider
Hi Karen, I dont know if you will remember, but we spoke/met briefly at Rosemundy House a couple of Saturday’s ago? I also brieflt shared a little in the hall about my birth mother? Although my mother was not in a mother and baby home with me, both our fate’s were pre-determined so to speak, when I was adopted into the family. I too was abused by a Vicar (friend of the relative), who should have kept me safe, so we have similar, but different experiences. You gave me your card, so the reason I am contacting you is that I feel now is the time to get all of my partially repressed feelings out in either book form or on an online Adoption Forum so others can read. All I can say, is that although our emotional scars will stay with us the rest of ourh lives, us women who have been through these trauma’s are pretty amazing himan beings who have overcome such adversity, and have tried out hardest to make a valid contriubtion to society (well I hope that I have). Any pointers in the right direction as to how to start my story/get it seen would be most welcome. In the meantime, I will be a regular follower of your site. With kind regards, and don’t give up the fight, Rosie
Joanie West
I am leaving a comment to say that my birth daughter was born in 1969 and over the years I have tried so much to find out about her. I have spent money on birth certs, etc., was a member for years with NORCAP, that closed awhile back. I was the only member of our group that got nowhere, I attended so may meetings regarding adoption. I have tried everything to no avail. Even was contacted by ITV Long Lost Families, and they never got in touch again. Whatever I do in finding info I get so far then I hit a brick wall! My daughter was adopted by the church. However, which church I have never found out? Her father was from Ireland and a Catholic, and I was Church of England. So could my daughter be in Ireland? I don’t know and I am still searching. All I know is she was in a private nursery in New Southgate London. Who paid I wonder? I went there but it closed down years ago. I am exhausted, looking so I now consentrate on my writing( which keeps me sane) I too am a published writer and have two books on Amazon. Not about adoption. I live in Southend Essex and my first book is called “Simple Southend Sonnetts And Some”. the second is a coming of age drama set in the 1700s “Alex And The Highwayman”. My sisters and family live in Ramsgate and I lived there until I left home to work in London. Also, to add that a great injustice was done to us unmarried mothers at the time . Now in 2025 it is so different. However, we all deserve an appology from this government regarding the adoption scandal over all these years. And the right to find out info about our birth children. Would it help to approach the Courts of Human Rights in Europe?
Phyllis
Oh Karen your story is so awful. I m sick and tired of the Church. Their behaviour is disgusting. In Lincoln another Bishop has just resigned, to do with abuse.
I was born in 1950 and put into an orphanage My care, at the hands of Shropshire Council was abysmal. I was put on a farm at the age of five which was quite remote, without water and electricity, into the hands of the most horrible people.
I was locked in my bedroom and wet the bed for ears. My foster mother just wanted the small amount of money she received. However, I was bright and won a place to Ludlow High School when I was nine. What happened? They moved to Birmingham and I had to go too. My foster was creepily predatory, and on one occasion he molested me and used to expose himself to me. His son was no better.
Anyway, to cut to the chase. I wanted to see my records a long time ago. I was told by Shropshire that all records had been destroyed. Do I believe this? I do not know. I taught journalists shorthand and at one time I put articles in local newspapers in Shropshire. Again, to be brief, I managed to glean a little info and a former nurse at the orphanage even had some toddler photos of me. She had wanted to foster me when she looked after me, but was told because she was single, she could not have me. Later I found out my real dad had been a CO in the war and had eventually become ill.
At times I have suffered from depression, but I am a very strong person. I might go back to Shropshire Council this year and tell them what happened to me, preferably to a group of social workers. I will obtain a copy of your book and I wish you well. Phyllis