There is no version of being an unwed and pregnant teenage girl that is enviable. Then envision her family turning her over to the Catholic Church where the nuns piled on the Catholic guilt and shame that permeated Ireland in the 1950s, all the while pressuring her to give up her newborn for adoption. In most cases, these “mother and baby” homes, which were operated by the Catholic Church, received a stipend from the government to cover the cost of care for both mother and child. But that didn’t stop the nuns from also requiring restitution from each girl. If her family was unable to pay, she was usually forced to stay after she gave birth to work off her debt. This “double dipping” was only part of the profit story, the real money came from the “donations” wealthy Americans paid to adopt these coveted Irish Catholic babies. For years these adoptions were quite profitable for the Catholic Church; but even worse, by today’s standards the treatment of these young mothers and their babies was often criminal.
The emotionally, and sometimes physically, torturous conditions these young girls encountered had been on our minds ever since Tim and I watched the movie Philomena several years ago. The movie told the story of Philomena Lee’s 50-year search to find the son that had been forcibly taken from her and sold to an American family without her permission. She had been incarcerated for four years and made to work in the convent laundry to pay her debt. Against her will she was forced to sign her son’s adoption papers. The cruelty and deceit that she (and so many others) endured, all in the name of God and religion, will forever haunt me. Tim’s adopted brother came from the same convent in Co. Tipperary that was portrayed in that movie, so it hit particularly close to home.
Sadly, the horrifying reality for too many of these young girls and their innocent babies was far worse than the picture I paint in this blog. But the situation in Ireland finally started changing in the 1970s when unwed mothers were provided the welfare support to at least have the option to keep their babies. It still took until the 1990s for social attitudes to begin to adjust, but gradually the Catholic Church had less control. Looking back on it, it’s easy to see all the wrongs. We’ll never know how many of those girls would have willingly placed their babies for adoption because the Church never gave them the choice. Of course, for so many American families, including Tim’s, these babies were an amazing gift and I suspect most of them knew a lifetime of love. But these American families had no idea that the fulfilment of their dreams came at such a high price for so many mid-century Irish girls.
As we renewed our search using ancestry.com in the Fall of 2018, Tim decided to once again reach out to the adoption agency to see if they could provide any additional guidance. To our surprise, as of 2016 the agency that handled Tim’s adoption – St. Patrick’s Guild – had been closed by the government. All records had been transferred to Tusla, the Irish government’s Child and Family agency and there was an ongoing investigation into births handled by St. Patrick’s Guild between 1946-1969. The scandal hadn’t received news coverage in Knoxville, TN so we were completely unaware of this development. If you’re interested in reading a NY Times article about the investigation click here.
Tim contacted Tusla and learned that adoptions in the mid-1950s were a particularly high priority, so he was assigned an investigator for an expedited review of his case. He has maintained contact with his case worker over the last year and has learned a little more about the circumstances surrounding his birth. There are certainly inconsistencies in his records, and a few inaccuracies that may or may not have been intentional. But at least Tim’s was not one of the cases where the birth certificate was completely fraudulent.
As we understand it, his sixteen-year-old birth mother was driven to the home for unwed mothers by his birth father. He took financial responsibility for all her expenses (although they were quick to inform Tim there was still a $34 balance outstanding on the account!). Because her debt was essentially covered, she was able to leave without further servitude after she gave birth. It is our understanding that Tim’s father sold his car to pay the bill. Tim’s mother was under the supervision of a nun for some months before and after the birth to provide “much needed moral counseling”. We do not know if she returned to Co. Donegal after giving birth or if she went straight to England where she was living in 1955 when she signed the final adoption papers. Based on public records, she was married in Manchester, England in 1957.
Tim has not had any contact with his birth mother. The maternal cousin he met through 23andMe did speak with his mother in Australia on his behalf. Her husband’s passing had not changed anything; our hopes had been unfounded. Her position remained the same as it was in 2004 when she was contacted by the adoption agency – she was still unwilling to connect with Tim. His mother will soon turn 83 years old and out of respect for her wishes, and the desire to let her live the rest of her life in peace, he promised to make no further attempt to contact her.
We may never know her story. It doesn’t appear to be among the worst, but it’s still hard to imagine it didn’t leave scars. People have told Tim for years that a mother could never forget about a child and there probably isn’t a day that goes by that she isn’t thinking of him. We’re pretty sure that isn’t the case here. Tim suspects any memory she had of him was long ago buried. By all accounts she’s a wonderful mother, and the family that came after Tim has been more than enough to fill any void that losing him may have left in her heart.
