Dirty Blood

Children come in to this world by no choice but by the mother that carries them.

For me I came into this world with no understanding of why was I a child of adoption.

Did I do something wrong?

Was I a mistake?

The only book I clung onto as kid that explained these answer was a book Called ‘Why was I adopted?’ by Carole Livingstone

Living life as an adopted child wasn’t easy. Yes I did have amazing parents and was given everything that my parents could give, underneath there were some sad and emotional times that I had no answer for.

I grew up in a family where Adoption was accepted by most of the family. I guess my only angers lies with my mum’s parents. My dad’s parents had already passed long before I came into this world.

My Mums mother Margaret. I never had so much dislike for a Human. It started when I was little and eventually grew into something I can’t explain.

‘Don’t put your hand in the biscuit jar’.. She would say to me in this most annoying loud galah voice.

‘Don’t sit or touch anything’,..why is your Daughter so ungrateful’? I could go on and on.

These are some of thing I would here from the women that was suppose to me my grandmother. The one person I thought my mum could rely on and have support from especially when she couldn’t  have children. Oh no not this women, Margaret was a unit on her own. Selfish, cold hearted and just not a nice lady.

I HATED her.. I remember at the age of 10 I would hang in the park across the road from her flat as I didn’t want to go near her. I actually have a memory of my Dad and I carving into a large tree trunk with his pocket knife our initials and a Love heart around it. Still to this day 20 years on that tree still stands and has aged still baring our days in that park.

Most grand kids hung with their Nan and pop doing amazing things like cooking and sleep over’s, not me.. the moment mum said were going to Parks (where she lived) I would carry on like a bitch. I hated going there, I hated the smell of her, I hated hearing her voice.

Even thinking about her now I have so much anger and frustration.

I was Dirty blood.

I remember one Christmas age about 10, she was handing out her gifts to the grand children, mind you I think at the time there was like 12 of us and I remember saying..”I don’t want your gift this year Margaret, I have enough hankies’.

This is pretty much what I received every year off her while I watched other grandchildren received awesome gifts. Anyway you can imagine the response.  It was hard at that age watching my cousins get Barbies and all sorts of things while Soap and hankies was my gift year after year after year.

Yes there was a grandfather. Frank was his name. He never spoke to me or did anything. I guess he was so over ruled by this woman he just did as he was told. Not much to tell really but at the age of 80 something he died.

My mum did everything she could to try to ignore what was going on as a child. Mum eventually supported my frustration and stopped forcing me to go and visit Margaret and Frank. Mum never questioned my dislike and never forced any contact with them through my later years.

Mum knew..

I can’t imagine what that must have been like for mum. How can you cherish an adoption opportunity and have it totally rejected by her own parents. All the emotions that mum buried inside her for all those years. Surely there must have been something burning inside her to tell them off.

Nope.. she’s the peace keeper in the family.

In the same family there were other adopted cousins in the family that was also treated like Dirty blood. Still to this day we laugh about it and just shake our heads to that strange woman.

Margaret and Frank where never invited to our wedding nor welcome in my house. I just could not bring myself to let her in my home. I could honestly count on my hands the amount of times I actually said hello to her. Mind you sometimes I ran into her and didn’t say anything at all.

Over the years I never spoke to her. Barely said Hello and I never visited her. She died in her 80’s and I didn’t even go to her Funeral.  At first I hated mum taking Chloe to visit her. Why should this woman have the privilege of watching my daughter blossom and have her talk to her like Clean blood. Not sure why I let her I guess it was more for my mum’s sake.

I guess it was a weird feeling knowing my mum ached inside as she watched both her Father and mother eventually die of Cancer and whatever Margaret Died of..

I was there for mum and I always asked the question of how she was feeling, NOT how was your mother or father. I didn’t care.

The times when mum was told that her parent had passed was hard for her. I comforted her and hugged her close just because I know what it’s like to lose a parent. Inside of me was a very bad soul saying .. Thank GOD he finally took them.

As I said before there is more about mums parents that isn’t for this Blog.

School yard bully was slight for me. I was a sporty, outgoing popular kid at school. I was never bullied in high school. For those of you that knew me I would of smacked your face in at the time..

Hahaha I have slowed down now. However there were moments in School I do remember a particular teacher talking to the class about Adoption. Not even sure why..

But this teacher was adamant that you buy babies. So I was bought!.  How could you put a price on a baby? I never forget the day I got so angry at her and I threw a chair at her. When I was marched into the principal’s office he then explained to her that I was adopted and I am sure that Natasha would know about the processes for Australian law. That teacher was never the same again with me. I guess she too had a thing for Dirty Blood.

From that day, kids had something to throw at me. Taunts of: $1 sale, how much where you sold for?, Was it to pay for your mums white powder?, or her cab ride home from the pub where she met your dad, or to pay back her Doctor for birthing you, your mums so fat she could have babies that’s why she bought you, so on so on

This went on and on over 12 months. Yes it did hurt my feelings. Sometimes I cried in the toilets when I was alone or on my way home after I got off the bus. I never led on to my parents what the kids where saying at School. But they did know about me throwing the chair.

I loved my parents. I was born and raised to not look at the physical features of a person but the story that person holds on the inside.

Gosh we were only 13ish for god sake. How can these Kids really understand what they were saying? It was times like that I had anger for being a Child of Dirty Blood let’s call it. I really couldn’t answer them. What if really my mum did pay for me and she never told me. How much am I worth?

If my birth mother wanted me back what would my mum sell me for.. could this really happen?

Mum is it true???

As I still clung to my book ‘why was I adopted’ was my only refuge at that stage until I get my answers from my birth mother myself.