It was after both my parents had passed away that I began believing I was adopted, though I had no evidence. For many years I'd dismissed my intuition, but the nagging feeling just grew in intensity. I was in my early 40s when I finally mentioned this to a close family friend, who said, "If you feel that strongly about it, why don't you look into it?" This was enough for me to realise she knew something but wasn't prepared to share it. The same day, a phone call to an aunt confirmed my hunch – I was indeed adopted.
I was shocked once I realised how many relatives, close friends and people from the community knew, but had been sworn to secrecy by my adoptive parents. It was their way of protecting me from the stigma and shame surrounding adopted children back in those days.
Later on, I also heard there had been a family meeting that discussed telling me the truth when my adoptive parents died, but because of concerns about my reaction, they decided it was best to just uphold the secrecy.
The same aunt had my adoption papers with my biological mother's name on it. With no internet back in the 1990s, I turned to Jigsaw – an organisation that provides intermediary services to people separated from family. I personally went through electoral rolls, births, deaths and marriage registrations, and called and wrote to people.
I was very fortunate. Ivy, my biological mother, was overjoyed to hear from me. We chose a public place for our first meeting and even though I didn't know what she looked like, I immediately recognised her in the crowd. She looked like me. I waved and that broke the ice. Seeing each other for the first time was an overwhelming experience, but the warmth of my mother's embrace was comforting.
There were no tears. We spent the first six hours sitting at a coffee shop, talking and getting to know each other. A couple of hours into the conversation, I noticed her pouring my tea. The role of mother and daughter became natural very fast. My mother told me how when she was 16, she fell in love with a Catholic boy but, being a Protestant, this quickly became a problem. In 1950s rural NSW, religion was an issue and there wasn't a lot of support for interfaith marriages. At age 18, she shattered her pelvis in four places in a car accident. That's when she found she was three months pregnant.
Despite her extensive injuries, she was able to continue with the pregnancy, but remained bedridden for the entire time. She was sent to a private Anglican hospital to both recover from her injuries and see me to full-term, while her parents planned a private adoption.
Keeping me was not an option, but still she chose to give birth to me, which I feel was a brave decision. When I was delivered she wasn't allowed to hold or see me. All she heard was the sound of my cries as I was whisked away.
Four years later she tried searching for me but, as a dental nurse at the time, she was aware that X-rays during pregnancy could increase the risk of childhood leukaemia. This had made her wonder whether I'd survived, considering the extensive X-rays she'd had after the car accident. With doubt, coupled with her fruitless search, she simply came to terms with the reality of it. But she never forgot my birthday and made sure to have the day to herself every year.
She later married but, because the birth had ruined her womb, she was unable to have other children. She found solace in fostering Balinese children.
From information Ivy gave me, I wrote to my biological father, who was unaware of my existence. Their relationship had broken up before she realised she was pregnant. Over a period of a few years, and prior to my father's death, we spoke on the phone but never met.
I still don't know what he looked like, but he did tell me he and my mother really cared for each other, which was great to hear. Looking back, I feel that being blissfully unaware allowed me to enjoy the good life and the love my adoptive parents gave me.
Meeting my biological mother was a bonus that gave me a deep sense of unconditional love and has allowed me to experience the genetic component that was missing in my life. It has been 18 years now since we found each other and our relationship has evolved into a genuine mother-anddaughter bond. You would never know we'd been separated.
As told to Elli Jacobs.