When I had my first child, I regret not asking my mother for help

Jane

First mothers often ask me "wouldn't your mother help you keep your baby?" The unspoken assumption is that if my mother has offered to help me, I would have kept my daughter.

When my surrendered daughter, Rebecca, was born in 1966 white mothers commonly pressured their daughters to give up their babies. Others flat-out refused to help, threatening "If you bring that baby home, you can't live here." Between World War II and Row v. Wade, adoption was THE solution for unwed pregnancies in white middle-class families. These grandmothers-to-be were not unkind; they had bought into adoption mythology and firmly believed that adoption was the best for all concerned.


"No," I answer, "she didn't know about the pregnancy." I add quickly, "I am sure my mother would have helped me; she would not have wanted her grandchild to go to strangers.

My answer comes as a surprise.  Then the follow up question:  "Did she ever find out?"