Northern Ireland

The stigma of the Mother and Baby homes remains

The Marianvale mother and baby home in Newry, Co Down where 'Jennifer' was sent as a pregnant 17-year-old.
The Marianvale mother and baby home in Newry, Co Down where 'Jennifer' was sent as a pregnant 17-year-old. The Marianvale mother and baby home in Newry, Co Down where 'Jennifer' was sent as a pregnant 17-year-old.

It was a case of history repeating itself when a Belfast teenager found herself in a mother and baby home in Newry, having been born in a similar institution 17-years earlier.

While the church may no longer have the same control over society, the stigma surrounding survivors of the homes remains.

So much so that over 50 years later, 'Jennifer' still does not want her real name used. "I have to protect my sons" she says.

Jennifer was born in a home near Carlisle Circus in north Belfast run by the Legion of Mary.

"My mum was a single mother, her mother was dead (and) she fell pregnant. The story I was told was that her father had remarried and put her out of the house so she ended up there.

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"I was a year and ten months when I was adopted, my mother was with me the entire time, or at least that was what I was told.

"My adopted father had something to do with the Legion of Mary and that's how they got to know about me, my adopted mother said was that I was 'unadoptable'.

"Don't get me wrong it was a good home, I'd food in my belly, clothes on my back and they educated me but there was very little love.

"They had three children of their own and then me, if anyone ever commented on me as a child it was always pointed out 'but she's adopted' so I grew up listening to that".

After a difficult adolescence at 17 Jennifer fell pregnant.

"When my adopted mother found out I was put in a car and shipped off to Newry to the Marianvale home.

"The first thing they did was take my name off me, we weren't allowed to talk to each other, but we did at night.

"The labour was horrendous, I was just left alone in Daisy Hill hospital not even a nurse to hold my hand.

"That was in 1970, my son's first adoption fell through and I looked after him until he finally went.

"He was about 12 weeks and I left the same day, my parents came back for me but the only way they'd take me home was if he was adopted.

"Not a word was ever said, it wasn't talked about it for years".

At 21 Jennifer met her soon to be husband and told him about her son.

"I wanted to be honest with him and tell him the truth, but among other people I still lived a lie. I'd say I had two children but really I had three.

"When my children were small I did find my birth mother but it wasn't really successful, she was beaten down, she was like a husk.

"I never got any information from her, there was a nothing, I met her twice, it wasn't great, but I've got past that now".

When he was 40, Jennifer's son reached out to her through official channels, they sent letters and photographs to each other before finally meeting.

"It was emotional, so many emotions, anger at what had happened, love, immediate connection, he'd had a very good adoption and that meant so much to me.

"An inquiry is exceedingly important, it's time the light of truth was shone on these institutions and what they did to people.

"There's more horrific stories than mine and these people need held to account for the misery they caused.

"My experience turned me against religion, when I walked out of that home I never stepped foot in a chapel again", she added.