This is a piece of writing completed in 2013 that explores the journey undertaken in attempting to find out about and make sense of, the beginning of my life. My writing has improved since then! My need to reference everything is now a given. But I didn’t want to alter this writing. Like a painting, it is from a moment in time; a life understood in that moment. Writing, like the way we make sense of the world around us, is forever changing…. forever unfinished business.
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I arrived into this world in 1970 to an unmarried mother, pregnant at 20, living with her own mother who was a Widowed French Catholic. My mother had gone and done the inconceivable and got herself pregnant and brought utter shame to anyone who might have dared ask what the bump was under the big red cape. A boyfriend, a few drinks, an evening out in Wigan and boom. There’s a baby coming. It could have happened to anyone of course but if you were a woman at that time, society could not accept this and judgement hung over this ordinarily happy event like a dirty blanket.
‘The bastard, like the prostitute, thief and beggar, belongs to that motley crowd of disreputable social types which society has generally resented, always endured. He is a living symbol of social irregularity. ‘Kingsley Davis, ‘Illegitimacy and the social structure’ (reprinted 1964), p.21.
Beliefs about unmarried women having babies are hard to imagine in the context of today’s society, for while there are remnants of these views still present with us today, they are nothing compared to how they were back then. A woman getting pregnant out of marriage had made a terrible mistake. I must also add that she was deemed to have been ‘bad’ and was filled with shame about this terrible thing she had done (as if she had somehow managed to get pregnant all by herself).
The perceived wisdom for a long period of time was that a baby born into this circumstance would be better off adopted and the number of babies who were adopted peaked in the late 1960s reflecting this view. In this context, the solution, was to be a Catholic one and at eight months pregnant my mother took the journey from Southport in the northwest of England on what I imagine was a cold January day and arrived at Nazareth House in Wrexham; one of the last homes for unmarried mothers. Cold, judgemental, punishing and emotionless. I can only guess it was like this from research I have undertaken in writing this book. It may have been warm, welcoming, caring and open minded but I suspect not.
Homes like this for unmarried mothers were born under the guidance of The Salvation Army which was founded by William Booth, an Evangelical Christian. The organisation became involved in a number of social welfare activities alongside its’ religious crusading. Originally there had been workhouses for prostitutes, the poor, the homeless and the sexually abused that sat on the back of The Poor Relief Act of 1601 until in 1891 in Hackney, Ivy House was opened by the daughter in law of William Booth himself. This was the very first mother and baby home.
This explains why religion was a thread running through mother and baby homes. However, by 1968 58% of the Homes were run by the Church of England, 11.6% by Roman Catholics, 5.3% by Salvation Army, 3.5% by Methodists, and the remaining by other churches or local authorities.
The history of the workhouse and Mother and Baby homes is an interesting one that isn’t for any further exploration here but in highlighting the history, we are provided with an understanding of the underlying philosophy of the mother and baby home and a comprehension of what type of policy and belief system it was created from. This enables us to understand better what type of environment women were entering during this era even though it would have been far away from being like a workhouse, it would still have been grounded in the idea that this is a place of shame, of poor, of lack and of therefore not deserving to have your baby.
Societal beliefs in 1969/1970 around having a baby out of wedlock can best be described of as ‘shameful’. The words penance, shame and reformation are used a lot in the different articles and interviews that I have read on the subject. What is very interesting is that ‘shame’ is something that I talk about lot in so much of my writing about recovery. Babies like me are conceived into it, born into it and then live it out through the aftermath what happened to us once we born. I have spoken many times of the red cape that my grandmother proudly made to ‘hide the baby’. Hiding the baby was essential during this era and the fact that my grandmother could sew such a garment allowed a little reverse pride in dealing with this ‘shameful’ situation. I will always remember the red cape and I wasn’t even born during its existence.
Nazareth House, very early in 1970, was a large imposing house with little to say and much to do; light housework awaited the women who were predominately teenagers or in their early twenties. Feeling ashamed, doing housework and giving birth were the order of the day. Adoption was seen as ultimately the best option for all; best for the baby, best for society. It was expected. This was the environment my mother would be in to finish her pregnancy, to have her baby, to hand over her baby for adoption and leave after just a few weeks to return back to work very quickly after birth.
The women arrived understanding that they would be giving up their baby for adoption and that not doing so would be selfish. As I mentioned earlier, just before I was born, 1968 saw a peak in babies being adopted and 16,164 were adopted. It’s highly possible that had I been born just months before I was, that I would have been subject to what is often described of as ‘forced adoption’ but by 1970, mother and baby homes were starting to close. Society and relationships were changing.
In this setting, believing that your baby would be removed, taken away from you, that you were not worthy, that you had done something ‘bad’, it might be fair to suggest that attempting to dissociate from that baby would have to be tried. Already it is likely that the baby would have been denied, hidden, willed out of its’ own existence? Why would you partake in attaching to ‘something’ that was going to be taken away? Why would you dare to dream as mothers dream about what it will be like to look at your baby and gaze into their eyes after waiting nine months to meet them? Why would you do that? How painful would that be?
I have read in various places and accounts from women who have stayed in these homes that breastfeeding was not allowed, which is well researched and documented as way of attaching to your baby. Babies were also left for long periods in ‘nurseries’ without connection to other human beings. In terms of ensuring that a mother would not attach to her baby thereby attempting to make the adoption ‘easier’, the workers in these homes knew what they were doing. What they didn’t’ know, or didn’t want to know, was the long term damage that this forced separation would have not just on the mother when the child had been removed from them but on that baby.
I was that baby. I was that abandoned baby in the nursery even though I was not to be adopted in the end. But that trauma had happened to us.
I researched Nazareth House, curious as to whether there was a way I could find any paperwork kept on my mother and me. Any old scrap of information that might provide one of the many missing parts of my life would do. Yet all I could find was an unobtainable phone number and knowledge that Nazareth House was now a home for the elderly. What I also found, scattered across the internet, was the unspoken emotion of 1970 in the form of endless messages from children and mothers looking to be reunited after adoption.
I had typed 1970 into Google, my search engine, my friend, full of missing jigsaw pieces. I am certain if I had put any other number of years in, I would have found the same messages of despair pieced together with shards of hope. Snippets of information scattered desperately across page after page in the faint hope that the missing piece of their heart might be searching too. I felt an instant sadness and connection all at once.
Having assumed I would be adopted due to being unclear as to whether she would be able to keep me, I was removed from my mother soon after birth and placed into foster care where all my practical needs would be met.
Alongside arriving into shame and judgment, I had also arrived into an emotionless, disconnected human experience; I now understand that this would shape me as a person in the most profound of ways.
Hi. Does anybody have any old photos of Nazareth House, in Wrexham in the late 70,s. I cannot find any information on this mother and baby home on the internet.
Hi Carole I don’t have any pictures of the actual building but I have a photo of the Nun also the dog Sailor who belonged to the housekeeper.
Oooh I’d like to see that too!
I was at Nazareth house wrexham early to mid 1985 sister celine was the most amazing person she gave me the strength to choose my own destiny. I kept my son with her help. I have photos of this time. If you remember me please get in touch x
Hi there, I was a young mother in Nazareth house in Southampton in 1975. I kept my baby but I had to go on the run and was threatened. I have to say had it not been for certain people from Southampton that neither new me or anything about me were willing to hide and look after me and my baby after I had been forced to squat a young desperate and frightened young girl who was in a city I did not know and knew no person either. So yes. I never have regretted doing that but I don’t think many girls would have able to do do and some were as young as 11yrs old . This was all done in the name of Catholicism and Christianity!!!!!
Thank you for sharing your experience x
Hi Carole I don’t have any pictures of the actual building but I have a photo of the Nun also the dog Sailor who belonged to the housekeeper.
I can remember Sister Celine by name but cannot remember how she looked. Is there any ladies out there that were at Plas Gwyn, Nazareth House, Wrexham in february to April 1977.
I was at Plas Gwyn, Nazareth House, Wrexham December 1968/69. I was there to have my baby adopted. The father of my baby eventually decided that he would marry me. My parents said that I could keep my baby if I married him. This is what I did. The only girl who was there at the time who was allowed to take her baby home.Sister Celina delivered my baby Jan 21 1969 on her feast day. My daughters middle is Celine. I have never forgotten that time and place. I hope that you are well and happy now
That’s an amazing story. Thank you so much for sharing that on here x
I believe my late mother had a baby here circa 1973 but clearly believed it was so shameful she never spoke about it in any detail. – alsways referring to it as her friends ordeal.
How would I find anything out as to whether there was a baby ? I feel I need to look.
I’m sorry but I don’t know. I think lots of files were destroyed, lost, mislaid. Most of the homes became used for other types of care or demolished. You’re best hope is a DNA site such as Ancestry as if you have a relative and they are on there, you will be connected. Good luck!
Hi I was born in Nazareth house in 1971 I’m just doing some research on it it now
Hi David… there were many called Nazareth House but I would still be interested in your findings as it seems to be that many records were detstroyed. Good luck!
Hello I was in Nazareth house in 1983 sister celine was an amazing lady whom I kept in touch with for over 30 years I was 15 and there for 6 month no pressure then I had my own mind and nobody was pushing me to do anything my daughter was delivered there by sister celine which was the norm she is 37 next week and I can remember only tooo well the trauma many of the other mothers had deliberating should they give babies up for adoption . These 6 months of my life have replayed so much in my whole life I had never ever met a nun till then . Sailor little poodle who ran around after sister celine sister Lawrence was the cook and mother gerome the superior who both went to live in Ireland Dublin where I visited some years later . I will always be totally grateful to these wonderful people
Thank you for sharing that 🙂
And me sister celine the most amazing woman
Lisa, thank you for sharing I was a 1969 baby born in the same home. I was blown away to read this as I am currently in a journey of self discovery brought about by the course I am studying. Not until I saw your book did I make the connection to the name. I totally understand now why your work resonates with me so much. Honestly thank you so much for sharing, your words both here on other platforms connect with me x
Hello
Thank you for your lovely comments and for connecting with my writing. I really appreciate you telling me that. I hope you’re having a peaceful day x
I actually work there now as a carer. It is for dementia patienys
Thanks for letting me know. I think lots of the mother and baby units are used for older adults now. X
I was sent to Nazareth House in 1976. It was the worst experience of my life the nuns were awful and expected me to give my baby up!!! I didn’t. It made me realise how toxic the Catholic Church is.
So sorry to hear about your experience…
I was at Plas Gwyn, Mother & Baby Home, Nazareth House, Wrexham from 15 November 1969 until 4 April 1970. My son was born March 1970. Sr Agnes Celine & Sr Mary Martin were the Nuns who ran the Unit. Both ladies now passed on. My placement was arranged by Liverpool Catholic Children’s Protection Society now The Nugent Care Society of The Archdiocese of Liverpool. They do have records of their Adoptions of babies born at Wrexham. Minerva Adoption Society also arranged Adoptions together with other agencies, possibly also The Church of England Society . Probably more but these are the ones at the time. I managed to trace my son in 1997 and to this day we are in contact. I went to Hell and back grieving for him for 27 whole years. If I can offer any help to anyone who has been on the same journey- please get in touch
This is incredible information to post here Liz. Thank you so much. I am going to see if I can find out anything about my own birth from them although I may not have been in that particular; there were so many. I’m so so pleased you were reconnected with your son. x
Hi Liz I did here the sad loss of dear Sr Celine but when asked about Sr Mary Martin The last Sr to remain at plas qwen was very short with me I would love to know what happened to her can you private message me thank you
I was an unmarried mother and stayed in Nazareth House in Southampton in1964 for 12 weeks. I was lucky that I had support from friends who visited me and took me out every Saturday. I remember two of the midwife nuns who were really lovely and non judgemental. All the “inmates” were required to do the cleaning because there weren’t any paid staff. I was lucky that I knew I could keep my baby. Others who didn’t have support had to have their baby adopted. I befriended a 17 year old Scottish girl who gave birth to a gorgeous little girl. She sent pictures to her parents asking if she could go home with her baby but received no reply. She would have had to give up her baby after feeding and caring for it for 6 weeks. I have thought of her over the years .and wonder what happened to her. I don’t have bad memories of that Nazareth House but I was lucky that the nuns/midwives were gentle and non judgemental.
I was in Nazareth House Southamton in 1964. I was there for 12 weeks, 6 weeks before and 6 weeks after the birth of my son. The nuns/midwives were lovely but if you had no means to support your child after that time the child would be put up for adoption. I was lucky that I had a lot of support from friends and was able to keep my baby. We did have to do chores every morning but with no staff that was unavoidable. We didn’t have to pay for anything and in my case it wasn’t a negative experience.
Thank you for sharing your story on here… x