Why I put my Down’s Baby up for Adoption…aghhh

I recently read an article and I really found it disturbing. With you I will share the article an you can tell me in your own words how you take the article. Article By Amanda Cable
Sue, 45, lives near Bristol with her second husband, Simon, and two of her children, Leanne, 24, and Jake, 18. She says:

A photograph of Nathan and myself is kept by my bed. It was taken last summer, when I took him to Disneyworld to celebrate his 18th birthday. I’ve always kept in contact with my son and seen him on his birthdays, but this was extra special – the holiday of a lifetime.

In this snapshot – my favourite picture – we are both looking horrified and thrilled as we plunge on the rollercoaster together.Nathan with birth mum Sue, who gave him away for adoption 20 years ago
Those two weeks that I spent with my son were the happiest days of my life.

It was as if I had been taken to heaven – to be able to hold him, smell him and enjoy my boy again.

But at the end of each day, Nathan would walk to a window, look out wistfully and say: ‘Can we ring Mum today? Can I speak to Mum?’

And, of course, he meant Alex – the woman who adopted him after I gave him away.

Since Nathan was born, so many knives have twisted into my heart.

But, strangely enough, I didn’t feel jealous that he loves Alex more – or that she is ‘Mum’ to my son – because I was the one who handed Nathan over as a baby. I handed over the right to that intense love.

All I wanted was for him to be happy – and I’m happy that he has found someone he truly loves to raise him.

Perhaps the real sadness of my situation is that my decision to give Nathan up for adoption was made at the loneliest and most terrifying point of my life.
‘The thought made me shudder’

I honestly believe that if just one person had said to me: ‘Sue, you can cope. You can manage with this baby’, then I would happily have kept him and both our lives might have been so different.

When Nathan was born, I was 25 years old – I had no life experience whatsoever. I had grown up in a small town outside Bristol, left school to work in a factory and at the age of 20 married my childhood sweetheart, Trevor – my first and only boyfriend at that time.

A year later, our daughter Leanne was born. All our friends were having babies at the same time, and soon I was pregnant again. When I was six months gone, I went to a shopping precinct.

There, walking towards me, was a woman in her 60s, with a tight perm, looking exhausted and haunted.

She wore a cheap elasticated skirt, had sandals on over swollen ankles and her shoulders were slumped. She looked despairing. Holding her hand was her son – a man of about 30, with the distinctive Down’s syndrome features.

It was the first time I had seen anyone with Down’s syndrome, and I couldn’t get the image of this boy-man and his mother out of my mind.

I just remember thinking: ‘He’s never going to leave home.’ The thought made me shudder.
Nathan was born on March 9, 1988. They wrapped him in a blanket, put him in my arms, and my husband took a photograph. I remember thinking: ‘We’ve got a little boy – lovely’.

Then, suddenly, the midwife took him from my arms and walked out. For three hours, I kept asking for my baby whenever a doctor or nurse came into the room, but no one would tell me what was going on. I could only see the pity in their eyes. I felt terrified.

Finally, we were taken to a special care baby unit, where Nathan lay in an incubator.

A nurse took my hand; the doctor said: ‘Nathan isn’t going to die, but he’s a Mongol – he has Down’s syndrome.’

With that, he handed me three leaflets – with awful old-fashioned images of children with their tongues hanging out. All I could think of was the woman in the shopping precinct with her grown son stumbling beside her. I thought: ‘Was that an image of me in the future?’

I was in shock. I couldn’t bring myself to ring my mum. I didn’t even know what to say to Trevor, and he couldn’t find any way of comforting me. I actually thought: ‘I’ll tell people he has died, then we can walk away from the hospital and pretend this has never happened – but I realised I couldn’t live a lie.’

I couldn’t bring myself to hold my baby either, though. I was terrified of falling in love with him – and I knew that there would be no choice. Already, someone had mentioned adoption.

The next day, my mother and family came in to see the baby, and someone took a photo of us all together. I remember looking around and thinking: ‘You are never going to be part of this family.’
Deep depression

We left hospital 24 hours after Nathan’s birth – and left him there. He was still in special care, where he remained for a week. It was almost accepted that I should just leave without him.

At the end of the week, someone rang me and said: ‘We can’t keep him at hospital, he’s fit now. If you want him to go to foster care, we will arrange it.’

So it just all happened, while I sat in shock. Not one person – the medical staff, my husband or friends – even hinted I should bring Nathan home.

Leaving hospital without a healthy child was perhaps the most miserable experience of my life.

Going home to the nursery we’d prepared was so hard. My next-door neighbour had just had a baby.

At night, I heard a baby crying and I would run into the empty nursery, looking for my son. Then I would remember that he wasn’t perfect, and he wasn’t here – and it would hit me like a physical pain.

My arms ached to hold Nathan again. But I knew nothing about children with Down’s syndrome, and it terrified me.

It only would have taken one person to say: ‘Come on Sue, let’s love him, you can do it’ – but no one did. My friends melted away from me, and my husband wouldn’t say those words that I needed to hear.

Nathan was taken to a foster home after a week, and I was allowed to visit. Even so, by then I’d made my mind to have him adopted. I tried to cram all my motherhood into those few hours – bathing him, feeding him and smelling his beautiful baby smell.

One minute I thought I would keep him, the next I swung, like a pendulum, into a deep depression.
I was still in shock, and was left to make the biggest decision of my life with no support. I went to see children at a local special school, and one boy with Down’s syndrome ran over and gave me a huge bear hug. It terrified me. At that moment, I realised I couldn’t keep Nathan.

I can’t remember the moment I told the social workers I wanted to put my baby up for adoption. But the decision had been made when I first heard of Alex Bell.

I was doing my ironing, crying – I wept constantly – and watching daytime TV. There was a feature about this amazing mum from Manchester who had adopted three boys with Down’s syndrome and was looking to adopt one more.

She said: ‘Somewhere out there is a baby which has been born and is destined to be mine.’

I started to shake, and I taped the rest of the programme. I watched it over and over again. Six weeks later, the social worker arrived to update me on Nathan’s adoption. They had put his picture in an adoption magazine, and 200 people had applied to take him.

There was a shortlist of three, and the social worker read me brief details. When he came to the last one, he said: ‘There’s a single mother who has adopted three boys with Down’s syndrome.’

I ran to the video tape, put on the programme and pointed to Alex. I was shaking, and I said: ‘It’s her, isn’t it.’
‘I was a nervous wreck’

The social worker just threw his papers in the air and smiled.

The thought that Nathan would be loved by this incredible woman made such a difference.

Weeks later, when the adoption had been approved, I was told that Alex wanted to meet me. I was utterly terrified. I thought she’d walk into my immaculate house and see all my nice things and think: ‘She has a lovely home. Why is she giving away her baby?’

I was a nervous wreck. But Alex walked in through the door and said: ‘Put the kettle on and make me a tea.’

It was the first time, since Nathan had been born three months earlier, that anyone had said anything normal to me – the first time I felt I could breathe.

Looking back, at the time, I was falling apart. Alex saved me. She mentioned open adoption – giving me the chance to stay in contact with Nathan – and although the social workers weren’t keen, we both insisted that this was what we wanted.

Nathan went to Alex when he was eight months old, having remained in foster care up to that point. Even up until the final hour, I kept having panic attacks.
Marriage split

I can’t remember the time I saw him last before handing him over – I was too grief-stricken. By now, I was pregnant again. I didn’t want to replace Nathan, but I felt that without another baby to hold, I would just fall apart.

Alex sent me a postcard after a few weeks, and said Nathan had settled down. On Christmas Day, she rang to thank me for a gift I’d sent to Nathan.

On Nathan’s first birthday, she caught the train from Manchester and we met for three hours.

I hardly recognised my own son. He was so happy and healthy, and was lying on his front and lifting his head. I was buzzing with happiness just to see him again.

Over the years, I continued to see Nathan on his birthdays, just before Christmas, and once for a summer party at Alex’s house. It was wonderful to see him growing up so happily – but each time I said goodbye, I would fall into an awful, catatonic depression.

My marriage split up within two years of Nathan’s adoption and I know it was largely because of my husband’s failure to support me over our baby. I resented the fact that I had been so alone and so vulnerable.

I still live with the guilt that I gave Nathan away. I think of him every morning when I wake, and every night as I go to bed.

When we are with him now, we have such fun together as a family – myself, my second husband Simon, Leanne and my son Jake. I often think: ‘This is what life would have been like for us. We could have been a proper family.’

THE ADOPTER

Alex Bell, 53, has adopted eight children with Down’s syndrome, and cares for her family in a ten-bedroom home outside Manchester. Nathan was the fourth child she adopted.

I first saw Nathan beaming up at me from a photo in an adoption magazine.

Here was this beautiful happy little baby, and just three lines written underneath, saying: ‘Three-month-old baby boy needs a new home. Down’s syndrome. No complications.’It was as if the photograph had jumped up and grabbed my heart – I just knew that he had to be mine.

I had already adopted three older boys, all with Down’s syndrome, but I was longing to hold a baby in my arms for the first time. I had already been approved to adopt again when I happened by chance to see Nathan’s photograph. I immediately rang up.

I don’t judge people who hand over their babies for adoption. How can anyone say how they would feel in that situation, if their hopes and dreams for a perfect child had fallen apart.

Often, they have their marriages and other children to consider. Not everyone has the support that they need to raise a child who may have challenges.

But I really wanted to meet Nathan’s mother before he became mine. I wanted to know who she was, what she was like – and get some sense of why she had come to the decision.

My chance came when I met Nathan for the first time. The adoption had been approved, and the social workers arranged for me to come and see Nathan at his foster home.

He was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen – with enormous dark eyes. He was friendly, happy and well cared for.

I thought of the mother who was giving him up and realised she must be going through hell. I thought: ‘She deserves to meet me, to see where her boy is going.’

So I asked the social worker to arrange a meeting. He rang Sue, and she agreed to meet me straightaway.
We went to her house, and when she opened the door I saw the definition of hell. Sue was in utter torment. The agony was there in her face.

This was not someone who was handing over a baby because she could not be bothered or because she wanted a perfect child. This was a mother who loved her baby dearly, and who was in an appalling physical and mental state.

We had a cup of tea together, and I told her about my life with the boys. Sue seemed to relax – I liked her enormously, and I had a strong feeling that if she had more support around her, she would be raising her son herself.

We both agreed that Sue should remain in contact with Nathan. I am always honest with my children. They know where they came from, that they had other birth mothers.

I wanted Nathan to grow up secure in the knowledge that his birth mum had loved him, too.

A month later, I picked Nathan up and drove him home as my own son. Sue had handed over all his baby clothes, and all the teddies and toys she had bought during her pregnancy.

At first, our contact was sporadic. But as Nathan settled, I started to write, or telephone, just to let her know how happy he was.

We were all so happy. For me, the joy of holding a baby in my arms and giving him his bottle meant so much. I had never known so much contentment.

I decided I wanted to adopt children when I was 22 and working as a teacher in a special school. I was single – I had boyfriends, but the rush of love in my life came from the children I worked with, not men that I dated.

I never felt the desire to marry, but I did want to care for a child who needed me.

It took four years to be approved as an adopter, because in those days it was almost unheard of for a single woman to adopt, and then another 12 months before they found me a child.
‘I fell in love’

Finally, in the spring of 1984 the social worker called at my home, and said ‘This is your child.’

She handed me a snapshot of Matthew, a little boy with Down’s syndrome who was almost two years old. He was absolutely gorgeous, with light brown hair and blue eyes.

A week later, I was taken to see him at his foster home in Watford and I fell in love. The first six months were tough – Matthew cried a lot – but once he settled, I knew that I wanted him to have a brother or sister.

My next son was Simon, another boy with Down’s syndrome. He also had a heart condition though, and a life expectancy of just five. I then applied for a third time and was given Adrian, who was nine; he has Down’s syndrome, too, and autism.

I loved being a mother of three, but I really wanted to experience the whole baby thing – changing nappies, holding a little warm body in my arms.

That’s when Nathan came into my life. It has been such an honour to be his Mum. I love him just as much as I could ever love a biological child.

Perhaps my only regret is the amount of pain that Sue went through after he was born. We both went on to have more children. Sue had another baby boy, and I adopted another four children with Down’s syndrome.

Nathan is now a happy and much-loved brother and son. When I see Sue and him together, I see the pain washed away from her eyes. I never feel jealous about the time he spends with her – I want my children to feel as loved as possible. In the end, Sue and I just both want the same for Nathan. After all, we are both his mothers.

Why I don’t understand what is so differently about him. Why he wasn’t loved from the time he was inside her how can that love of a mother change.? He didn’t ask to be here no child does none of us ask to be here actually we all just are. Everyone is different no on is the same if it were that way it would be a very boring world. Everyone being different is what makes people grow and get stronger. I don’t understand how those thoughts can even enter someones mind about there child.