An Open Letter to my Birthdaughter

Dearest Laurie,

My mother, sister and I moved to DeLand, Florida when I was 13 years old where we lived temporarily with my paternal grandmother. Finally the three of us moved into a tiny little house on the outskirts of town, across from the winter headquarters of Barnum and Bailey circus. Money was very scarce and in our little rental house we didn't even have a stove or a telephone. We fixed our meals on a hot plate and for Thanksgiving one year, we fried bologna that we had cut up in the shapes of turkeys.


By this time, Mom spent each evening after work drinking away her loneliness and fear. As I look back now I realize how lonely my mother was. Divorced women with children did not fit neatly into the acceptable society of the 60's, so she had no social life or friends while we lived there. I'm sure that's one of the biggest reasons my mother turned to drinking as a means of numbing her loneliness. I turned into a rebellious, hardheaded teenager who sought out the most undesirable friends I could find.

The highlight of my weeks during this period was going to the roller rink each Friday night. It was an outdoor, concrete rink with colorfully lit palm trees surrounding it. That is where I met your father, Marty, one of town's "bad boys". He didn't roller skate because he was too "cool" for that but he and his buddies would park outside the fence, drink beer and flirt with the girls who skated. I thought he was so handsome with his thick, dark black hair, brown eyes and long lashes. Marty had some Native American ancestry in his blood and had a lot of the physical characteristics. He was relatively small compared to the men of today. He was only about 5'8" or 5'9", very slender yet well built and had a tattoo on his shoulder that said "Kitty" which was the name of his previous girlfriend. He was also an "older man" with a car, which I thought was very exciting. He was 19 and I was 14 when we started "going steady". I wonder how I ever coerced my mother into letting me even date him while I was so young? I probably badgered her until she gave in.

He had given me his beautiful ruby ring, which I wore on a chain around my neck with pride. Marty worked for a tree service company for a period of time while we dated and he lived at home with his mother, who was a nurse on the graveyard shift at the local hospital in DeLand. He would drive over to my house most every evening after he got home from work and had showered and changed clothes. Marty had dropped out of school when he was quite young but I don't know the circumstances of that. Marty's mother had purchased a blue and white 1955 Chevy for him with a standard transmission, on the column. Your dad evidently had some mechanical inclinations because he repositioned the transmission on the floor from the column. It was a "speed shift" he had put in and I remember how proud he was of how quickly he could change gears! He was the one who taught me how to drive a stick shift, as I would sit beside him in the car and change the gears while he drove.

A ritual of our town was to drive around the "Sugar Top" to check out who was there as well as to be seen. The Sugar Top was the local hamburger joint that had carhops to wait on us. We also spent time at Teen Town, which was just a small building that had a jukebox and sold cokes. Of course, there was the bowling alley and the movie theater in town. The favorite place that Marty and I went to on our dates was to DeLeon Springs. We would meet our friends there, swim, picnic and drink beer. DeLeon Springs was a privately owned park with peacocks roaming free, huge oak and scrub trees, concession stands, public showers, lounge and an outdoor jukebox. The springs itself was enclosed to resemble a concrete swimming pool with an underwater, glass encased viewing area of those jumping off of the diving board.

There was also a restaurant with a huge water wheel that faced the springs, and they served pancake breakfasts on the weekends. I can still recall the shrill sound of the peacocks echoing over the park area and I thought it was like a wonderland in nature.

After the sun went down and our friends went home, Marty and I would dance, talk and make love. During one of our conversations, Marty confided in me that Edna, the woman I knew as his mother, was actually his aunt and was raising him as her own, after her sister had given birth to Marty and moved away. I never met Marty's "mother" and Edna became quite angry and denied being Marty's aunt when I brought it up.

Marty was very quiet, reserved and almost shy most of the time. He would become loud and boisterous only when he was drinking but I guess we all did, trying to show off.

Of course, I knew the danger of becoming pregnant but there was no birth control available to me and I recall secretly wanting Marty's baby. I romanticized the idea of having a child of my own to love and care for but didn't really think about the responsibilities that went along with it. I envisioned how I would love my baby and make it feel more special than my mother had shown me. As could be expected I became pregnant in late August of 1964 when I was 15 years old.

We approached Marty's mother first and she seemed to be elated at the idea and started to campaign and plan a wedding for us. She suggested Marty and I live with her and I would do all of the house cleaning and cooking while she and Marty worked. That did not appeal to me at all when it started to dawn on me that all my friends would be having fun while I did household chores. Although your dad was willing to marry me, I don't really know how he truly felt about his upcoming fatherhood and marriage. Marty's mother even took me shopping for a wedding dress and she put matching wedding bands on layaway for us.

My mother, on the other hand was less than thrilled. I can still recall her standing at the ironing board when Marty and I walked in, announcing that we had something to tell her. She didn't have to be a rocket scientist to guess our "secret". We told her our plans to be married but she obviously didn't think it was a good idea for her 15-year-old daughter. My mother called my father in Indiana to discuss the situation and they suggested I visit my dad for a month, for a "cooling off" period. At the end of the month, if I still wanted to get married she would sign the papers for a wedding license.

During that month of September 1964 when I was in Indiana, I received phone calls and letters from my mother and paternal grandmother telling me that Marty was seen driving around town with his new girlfriend. I accepted what they told me as truth because it never dawned on me that they would lie to me. I never confronted Marty with the rumors but I regretted it later that I didn't even ask him or give him a chance.

When I returned back to Florida in October, my mother had moved our home to Daytona which was about 30 miles away from DeLand and arrangements had been made for me to go to a Catholic Charities home for unwed mothers, near Orlando. They would not take me until I was at least five months pregnant so I was kept hidden in our house until February.

School was out of the question because back then, one was expelled for being pregnant. I spent that whole winter inside the house, hiding so the neighbors wouldn't see me. I spent my days doing jigsaw puzzles, reading and crying. I used to sit for hours looking through a Sears catalog at baby clothes and furniture and wishing I could keep you, my baby. Mom wouldn't even discuss it with me and there weren't any financial services available back then for single mothers, like there are today.

The "home" was a beautiful 2-story structure and sat right on a lake but the house itself was hidden from view by many trees. Mrs. Johnson, the housemother was there to greet me and I was escorted up to a large bedroom, that I would share with 3 other girls. The maximum number of girls at the home, at any one time, was nine and it was always a full house during the 3 months I was there. There were donated maternity clothes for us to borrow and I was allowed to select 3 or 4 outfits for my use while I was there. We each had household responsibilities and they would be alternated each week. We had a recreation room, which held a TV, ping-pong table, sewing machine and many, many books to read.

A social worker visited with each of us once a month and mine resembled a dried up prune with gray hair, pursed lips and squinty eyes. Never was there any discussion about alternatives to giving my baby away. Was there welfare back then? What about temporary foster care? Her advice to me each visit was "when this is all over you will forget and go on with your life" and "only bad, selfish girls would keep their baby if they were unmarried" and "if you truly loved your baby you will relinquish your rights so your baby can have a better life".

Mrs. Johnson was like my fairy godmother at the time. She made me feel special and I believed I was her favorite. I will always love her for that. The house rules stated that we had to be in our bedrooms by 9:00 each evening but I was allowed to sneak downstairs and visit with Mrs. Johnson in the kitchen while she baked. Mrs. Johnson taught me to sew and knit while I was living there and I began an afghan for my mother which I didn't finish until 1982, the year she died. The afghan was buried with my mother.

Each Tuesday, the nine of us girls were driven into town for our "outing". We bought cheap wedding bands at the dime store to wear, which turned our fingers green. I chuckle now wondering how many people we thought we had fooled, as a group of nine pregnant, young girls waddled down the street with green ring fingers? The girls at the home forged a bond and we would talk about a variety of subjects, which always returned to our babies". We would wish for a boy or a girl and secretly named them. We were told that a temporary first name would be placed on the birth certificate and the first name would start with the same letter as our last name. I wanted a little girl and I named her "Laurie".

Most of us wanted to keep our babies but we didn't know how to go about supporting them without the approval of our parents. Many nights, after the lights were out, we would cry into our pillows.

My mother came to visit me each weekend, which amazed me because she always seemed so angry and disappointed in me. I was so grateful that she would give up some of her weekend just to visit with me for a few hours. I was so homesick and begged to go home with her but she was afraid the neighbors would see me. I even suggested I sneak in and out of the house after dark but she didn't think it was a good idea.

Mrs. Johnson always had one day a week off and we had a substitute housemother in her absence. That substitute was there that day when I went into labor with you. The first sign that I was in labor was that I felt sick to my stomach, couldn't eat and my back was very sore. By dinnertime, the substitute knew I was in labor but I refused to go to the hospital until Mrs. Johnson got home. I got my wish and Mrs. Johnson drove me to the hospital later that night but she was not allowed to stay with me. When she dropped me off, she suggested I not take the option of looking at you or holding you after you were born. She said it would be less painful in the future if I didn't see your face.

At the hospital, I was taken to the surgical floor, to go through the labor by myself. I was so scared and lonely. I was given a shot, close to the delivery time, which rendered me unconscious. The next thing I remember it was about 6:30 the next morning on May 22, 1965, your birthday! I was still on the surgical wing away from the other new mothers and their babies and I called my mother collect, as she was getting ready for work, to tell her you had been born. We both cried on the phone.

I was kept in the hospital for 3 days, which was standard at that time and then returned back "home" to Mrs. Johnson for another week. During that week of recuperating, a social worker visited me with the papers to give you up for adoption. I asked if you were a girl or a boy, if you were healthy and how much you weighed. He said you were a little girl with a head full of dark hair, very healthy and weighed between 6 and 7 pounds. As I signed the papers, he explained to me that I would never have the right to know who adopted you or where you were. The records would be sealed forever. He assured me that very special parents that were screened very carefully would adopt you. He insinuated that your new parents would probably be financially able to give you all the things that I would not. As I signed those papers, my dreams of a miracle slipped away from me. All those months, I had daydreamed that Marty would drive up and rescue us or else my mother would change her mind and let me keep you. I always loved and wanted you but I was told, and I believed, that you were better off without me.

I never forgot you and spoke of you to everyone I met. My wish was that you would search and find me when you were old enough if you were interested. Since the records were sealed to me, the only way I was able to search for you was to register with ALMA each year after you turned 18 years old. That was an organization that matched birthparents with the adoptees if both were registered. All those years you were growing up, if I would see a little girl about your age, I would stare and wonder if it was you. On your birthday each year, I would talk to you in my heart and send my love. I would try to visualize what you might look like each year, as you were growing up.

I am still filled with guilt and remorse that I can never have those years of your childhood. If it were in this day and time, I would never have given you up. I would have done whatever it took to keep you. Even now after we have found each other and talked, I don't feel worthy to have your love or attention. I try to imagine what it must have felt like to have your birth mother give you away and it makes me sick to my stomach thinking about what you must have thought and believed. At the time I thought I was giving you a gift but now I know I probably gave you reason to doubt your self worth. Even if you can forgive me, I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. But please never doubt or wonder about my love for you. I have always loved you and will continue to love you till my last breath.

Love Always and Always,
Your Mother

Update......
Laurie and I were united for the first time in 1992 and for years, I was always under the impression that Marty, her father was deceased. Everyone I contacted in DeLand believed the same but no one had any pictures of him so Laurie could see what he looked like. In 2004, I retained a private investigator to try to locate any living relatives Marty might have. Much to the surprise of myself, Laurie and all of our mutual friends in DeLand, Marty was alive and living about 5 hours from me. I spoke to him on the phone and told him about finding our daughter, Laurie and our 2 grandchildren. He was overcome with emotion and within the month he met her for the first time. Below is a collage of the 3 of us.