I was 25 years old before I met my dad and didn’t realise at the time he was my dad. I was adopted from Armagh, Ireland. I always wondered about my first family. I knew where I came from, but nothing about them. After having my second child I approached the adoption agency I came from for my records and was met by constant brick walls. My records were burned in a fire I was told. You would be surprised by the amount of fires there are!
I wanted a copy of my baptismal cert. They kept promising me they would get me one. After many months waiting and still no cert I had done my own research and decided to go the parish where I was baptised in myself. This was a very strange experience.
After knocking on the door, I was greeted by an elderly priest who seemed taken aback by my appearance and had a somewhat arrogant attitude towards me. When he gave me a chance to speak I explained why I was there? He said you better come in. He then disappeared. My husband and I just stood there wondering what was going on and why he hadn’t even asked who I was? Five minutes later he returned, which seemed like an eternity. He had a ledger which he opened at a page and said “you show me where you are on this?”
I was quite stunned but pointed out my name which had a score through it as it was my birth name and had been changed. My adoptive name was written alongside. Anyway he did give me the original copy along with a lecture on not going knocking on anyone’s doors and bringing up the past. It was many years later before I found out this was indeed my dad that I had met. Although my husband did say at the time but I refused to believe it. Apparently he arranged my adoption. He continued to stay great friends with my mother as I later also found out. Unfortunately reunion wasn’t to be with either.
We the children are left in limbo. Anne Marie .