I never met my father, and my mum visited only on rare occasions. It was only much later that the carers told me how I ended up in the childrens home. When I was about one year old, I came down with pneumonia. Exhausted from illness, I simply stopped crying altogether and lay silently in my small cot for days, slowly drifting away while my mum, full of sorrow, drank whisky in the next room.
I was born into a family with a mother who loved alcohol. She would drink for days on end, and the sound of her bottles kept me awake at night. Neighbours had already started complaining about the crying baby, so one day my mother finally decided to take me to the hospital. When the nurse walked in, she found me burningmy clothes were alight, and it took three people to put out the flames. I was rushed to A&E, where I was treated for my burns. During my time in hospital, not once did Mum visit.
The happiness I discovered in the childrens home stayed with me, even after the birth of my first child. I received a proper education and landed an excellent job, and my flat was spacious and beautifully decorated. Living there brought me immense joy. We cherished our chosen family like a miracle, though one thing was missing: our own little one.
My husband and I decided to adopt a two-year-old girl from a childrens home. Many people tried to talk us out of it, but we never listened. We brought her with us when we moved to London, knowing we were taking the risk that she might have inherited some genetic illness. But she has been perfectly healthy ever since!
Every day, I thank God for giving me the ability to think for myself and not blindly follow others advice. None of the doctors warnings ever came truemy daughter is healthy and thriving. In my view, people find it all too easy to blame a childs struggles on bad genes. Its as if were saying its never poor care or circumstances that cause problems, but instead its all down to the biological parents and their genes. All a child truly needs is love and the feeling they matter, to grow up well.
Its nearly five years since our adoption, and I am filled with fear. I love my son and my adopted daughter equallythey are both my family. Yet Im so anxious that Anna will find out shes adopted and will take it badly. I dont know how Id even go about starting that conversation if she ever learns the truth. Would she understand? That thought terrifies me far more than the idea of someone else telling her the truth before I do.
