Mother Finds Daughter for Christmas

“When the phone rang on Christmas Day, Padmini knew the call would be the best present she could ever receive. She’d waited years to hear the sound of her lost daughter’s voice.

For decades, Padmini had spent her Christmases wondering whether her daughter was safe, or if she had a family to help decorate her tree, or children to buy presents for. Was she nearby, or in some far off country?

Padmini, from Bridport, Dorset, was unmarried when she’d fallen pregnant in 1966. With an unemployed father, and a mother who suffered from mental health problems, she was given no option other than to give up her baby for adoption.

“Back then, people just wouldn’t accept unmarried mothers,” says Padmini. “There was never any suggestion of me keeping my baby. Society seemed to think it had the solution to two problems by making unmarried mothers give their babies to infertile couples.”

Padmini hid her pregnancy for as long as she could, but eventually her secret came out.

“The news spread like wildfire, and people just disappeared from my life,” she remembers. “For my 16th birthday, I received about 50 birthday cards, but the next year, after the pregnancy, I only received seven.”

Saying goodbye

Padmini never plucked up the courage to tell the father of her baby, who she had an on-off relationship with.

“I tried to, but I was terrified,” she says. “I even went down to the amusement park where he worked, but I just couldn’t do it.”

About a month before the birth, Padmini was sent to a maternity home. The home had two wings: one for married mothers, and one for unmarried mothers.

The unmarried women did all the laundry and cleaning for the married mothers, and the two sides never mixed.

The work was back-breaking. Padmini slogged away in the laundry department until the day she went into labour – most of the time she was cold, wet and exhausted.

Despite the hard work, Padmini was happy to be away from home, where her mother’s illness made life difficult.

“It was such a relief to be with women in the same situation,” says Padmini. “There was a real camaraderie between us.”

But when the day came, Padmini was not prepared for childbirth. Left alone for many hours with simply gas and air, she felt utterly alone.

“That’s one of the things that’s stuck with me, the memory of being in agony and the loneliness of it all,” she says. “The whole thing was barbaric.”

For the next 10 days, Padmini and her baby girl, who she named Joanne, stayed in hospital. There were strict rules about the amount of time the mothers were able to spend with their babies during the day, seeing them only at set feeding times.

All the women knew they would have to give up their babies. Padmini recalls the sound of girls crying themselves to sleep at night.

“One girl managed to get her boyfriend to propose, so she was able to leave with her baby,” she says sadly. “That was what we all dreamed of.”

Padmini took Joanne home for a few weeks while the adoption was arranged. She formed a tight bond with her baby, all the while knowing she had to give her up.

On the day of the adoption, Padmini took Joanne to the social worker’s office, where they were separated. A sobbing Padmini was told to wait in a room until she’d calmed down enough to meet Joanne’s adoptive parents.

But by the time she was ready to say goodbye, the new family had left.

“That was the most horrendous part of the whole thing,” says Padmini. “I didn’t get to have a picture of what her parents looked like. There was absolutely no respect for the emotional trauma I was going through.”

Never forget

Over the years, Padmini tried to move on with her life. She married a wonderful man, a plumber called Jamie, and had a son, Mark, who grew up knowing he had a sister somewhere.

Despite a successful career as an engineer (later retraining as a counsellor) and a happy home life, Padmini still mourned for Joanne.

Eventually, she decided to search for her daughter, with the help of her family. It took them nearly 10 years to find her, and the family spent months trawling through council ledgers with over 25,000 names of adopted babies.

“My husband and I stood side-by-side running our rulers down the lists of names,” says Padmini. “We’d been through the ledger once before and missed her, so I had practically given up hope when I stumbled upon her.”

Padmini and Jamie managed to track Joanne down in New Zealand, where the 31-year-old, who was now known as Joanna, was married and working as a diver at a research station. She knew she had been adopted, but had never tried to find her biological mum.

Tentatively, Padmini got into contact with her daughter through an adoption mediation charity, and they arranged to speak on the phone.

“I was timid at first, and it was awkward, but then we chatted away for two hours like old friends.”

Reunited at last

After that, Padmini and Joanna began speaking regularly, and eventually, in 1999, Joanna decided to come to England.

“As soon as I saw her at the airport I knew she was my daughter. She even had her hair styled in the same way I wore mine at that age.”

Joanna bought Padmini a little blue perfume bottle; a gift she has treasured ever since.

Over the next few weeks, Padmini and Joanna bonded, and when it was time for Joanna to go back to New Zealand, she decided to stay in England, moving in with Padmini.

“Joanna went through a sort of second childhood,” says Padmini. “She loved cuddles and me brushing her hair.”

Eventually, Joanna moved back to New Zealand. Padmini keeps in touch with her via Skype and email, and is glad she can now wish her a Merry Christmas, to make up for so many that she couldn’t.

But she still feels her absence.

“I wish we could see each other more,” she says. “When she left it was like losing her again.”

Nowadays, Padmini is president of Movement For An Adoption Apology, a society which campaigns for a Parliamentary apology for unethical adoption policies of the past.

“I’m so glad things are different for women now,” she says. “It’s unbelievable how much the world has changed in my lifetime.”

Padmini is also a doting grandmother to six grandchildren. “I absolutely adore having a big family now, but nothing can ever heal the scar of losing Joanna.”

Finding the daughter I had to give up for adoption was the best Christmas present ever [Mirror 12/16/15 by Rosie Hopegood]

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