Cheryl's Story

Well, I was never told growing up that I was adopted. I was a beloved only child. I loved being an only child. As I grew up, I started to suspect I was adopted. My mum always told me how special adopted children were, and by chance I married a man who had an adopted sister, and my mum always spoke about how lucky she was.

Once, and only once, after some heavy drinking, my father yelled that my mum wasn’t my mum, to which 11-year-old me screamed back, “And you aren’t my father.” I had no idea still that I was adopted, just thought he wanted to hurt my mum. It was never mentioned again.

I was extremely close to my mother’s side of the family and was just another of the cousins, one of the family. My father’s side always treated me a little differently, but nothing I could put my finger on. Surprisingly, many knew of my adoption, including neighbours, but no one ever told me. I asked a friend who was my neighbour growing up why no one told me, and her answer was that everyone was a little scared of my dad and what might happen if they told.

Dad passed away in my early 20s, and after a while Mum came to live with us. Before she did, she called me and said she had something to tell me. By now I was fairly certain I had been adopted. I said this to my mum, and she cried. She only asked that my kids could still call her Nanna. I, of course, said yes. She was my mum and their Nanna.

After Mum passed and I was in my 30s, I placed an ad in the paper with a few details I knew of my birth mother. I received a call from her immediately after the paper was published. She lived in the next state, and my husband, son, and I went to see her. This was an interesting experience. It turns out I was her firstborn, but in total she had 11 children and only brought up the youngest. Most were adopted, fostered, or lived with paternal grandparents.

I met some half-siblings that day, as well as her husband. I was not comfortable and could never call her Mum. My mum had passed away. She was a woman who gave away her kids. I saw her one more time after that and found out some very disturbing news about her husband and told her she would never see me or my children again.

This did not end my quest in finding out who I was. Again, I put a post in an adoption group and in 20 minutes had found my birth father’s family. Long story short, he was an uncle I knew about but never saw. Now I realised why. He was my dad’s half-brother. Anyway, he and I never met or spoke, but I did meet some of his kids. One sister lived near me, but our relationship became overwhelming and I backed away. Only child showing through, I guess.

Anyway, it turns out he had six, possibly seven, other children apart from me. So I am one of around 18 children combined of my birth parents. I miss my mum every single day, and even though Dad had his moments, I miss him too. I thank God they adopted me every day and gave me a wonderful, loving life. I would say to other adoptees, go searching, because we are always looking for the missing pieces, but please be prepared, it’s not always a fairytale experience.