Registered as someone else
In 1987, at the age of 34, I discovered I had been adopted.
My husband David and I with our two sons, Caerwyn (5) and Morgan (3) were immigrating to Australia and I needed a birth certificate. I couldn't find it. I had a passport, had lived in France and Spain and Italy; had travelled extensively, so I must've had one at some time, but I couldn't find it. With high hopes and no thought of failure I headed to the Registry office in Guildford, Surrey, England, to get a copy. This is what I was told...
The grey-haired registrar leaned across the desk and to my surprise, took my hand in his and began to stoke it. My alarm must have shown in my face; the stroking quickened.
“Mrs Evans, had it ever occurred to you that you might have been registered under another name?”
“Well,” I said, pretending a calm I didn’t really feel, “I think every child at some time in their life wonders if they might’ve been adopted but no, not really. Why?”
The stroking got heavier and quicker; he clung to my hand as if I might fall off my chair.
“Well, Mrs. Evans, we did a search for you at Somerset House. They couldn’t find you in the normal children’s register — but they did find you in the Adopted Children’s Register.”
I nearly fell off my chair.
The stroking and moral support ended abruptly. “Now, if you’d like to just go and sit in the waiting room we’ll bring you the necessary forms so you can get your…er… birth certificate.”
He ushered me out of his office to wait in bewilderment, while different forms were found for me to complete now that I was no longer “normal”.
This book was not very well written in 2007 I'm ashamed to say. I believe I have improved and I will be re-editing it. If it is a subject that interests you, I have written another short essay on the plight of adopted children and I have posted it on this site and I am very open to blogging comments on the subject.
The work I did on myself to come to terms with being lied to all my life came through a group called Access Consciousness. They helped me find myself, stop judging myself and begin to live a life of fun and joy. I invite you to seek them out if you have a need.
My husband David and I with our two sons, Caerwyn (5) and Morgan (3) were immigrating to Australia and I needed a birth certificate. I couldn't find it. I had a passport, had lived in France and Spain and Italy; had travelled extensively, so I must've had one at some time, but I couldn't find it. With high hopes and no thought of failure I headed to the Registry office in Guildford, Surrey, England, to get a copy. This is what I was told...
The grey-haired registrar leaned across the desk and to my surprise, took my hand in his and began to stoke it. My alarm must have shown in my face; the stroking quickened.
“Mrs Evans, had it ever occurred to you that you might have been registered under another name?”
“Well,” I said, pretending a calm I didn’t really feel, “I think every child at some time in their life wonders if they might’ve been adopted but no, not really. Why?”
The stroking got heavier and quicker; he clung to my hand as if I might fall off my chair.
“Well, Mrs. Evans, we did a search for you at Somerset House. They couldn’t find you in the normal children’s register — but they did find you in the Adopted Children’s Register.”
I nearly fell off my chair.
The stroking and moral support ended abruptly. “Now, if you’d like to just go and sit in the waiting room we’ll bring you the necessary forms so you can get your…er… birth certificate.”
He ushered me out of his office to wait in bewilderment, while different forms were found for me to complete now that I was no longer “normal”.
This book was not very well written in 2007 I'm ashamed to say. I believe I have improved and I will be re-editing it. If it is a subject that interests you, I have written another short essay on the plight of adopted children and I have posted it on this site and I am very open to blogging comments on the subject.
The work I did on myself to come to terms with being lied to all my life came through a group called Access Consciousness. They helped me find myself, stop judging myself and begin to live a life of fun and joy. I invite you to seek them out if you have a need.
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