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Memories of an Adopted Child
Memories of an Adopted Child
Memories of an Adopted Child
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Memories of an Adopted Child

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Growing up in small village meant that no one could keep a secret. When a young Irish girl arrives in Stoke-on-Trent, heavily pregnant and with nowhere to go, what will happen to the baby?

Knowing that you are adopted is one thing, but to know your natural mother is living in the same village is quite another.

This is a true story of how an adopted child overcomes prejudice and ignorance to learn her true story.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherXlibris UK
Release dateOct 6, 2015
ISBN9781514461518
Memories of an Adopted Child
Author

Christine Carol Meakin

Christine Carol Meakin was born in 1944 in a small mining village in Stoke-on-Trent. She grew up always knowing she was adopted and that her natural mother lived in the same village. Christine trained as a nurse and has two children. She now lives in Cornwall with her husband.

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    Book preview

    Memories of an Adopted Child - Christine Carol Meakin

    Copyright © 2015 by Christine Carol meakin.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Rev. date: 10/02/2015

    Xlibris

    800-056-3182

    www.Xlibrispublishing.co.uk

    718303

    CONTENTS

    Preface

    Chapter 1   My Early Years

    Chapter 2   The Beginnings of My Background

    Chapter 3   The Start of My Journey

    Chapter 4   Life Goes On

    Chapter 5   The Early Years at School

    Chapter 6   Teenage Years

    Chapter 7   My Nursing Career

    Chapter 8   Finding Out More of My Beginnings

    Chapter 9   A Chance Meeting and a Sad Death

    Chapter 10   A Visit from My Birth Mother

    Chapter 11   The Death of My Birth Mother

    Chapter 12   Finding Out about My Sister

    Chapter 13   Meeting My Sister

    Chapter 14   Journey’s End

    Memories of an Adopted Child

    This book is dedicated to my adoptive parents Louisa and

    George Bossons to thank them for giving me a wonderful life!

    December 1944

    The birth of a daughter is a joyous occasion to be celebrated happily. However, if this child is your second daughter and the first one has been adopted, then the situation becomes more complex.

    Preface

    M y mother was a young single girl who came over to England from Ireland at the beginning of the 1940s. She was accompanied by her younger sister, and together they wanted a better life and to live and work in London. They had another sister who was already working there, training to be a nurse.

    Eventually they both obtained work in a public house called the Greyhound near Hammersmith. The work was hard, but they began to build a life for themselves and made friends.

    When I try to imagine what life was like in those war years, it seems difficult to know how my mother felt and adapted to life in London. Was she homesick? She had lived all her life in a tiny village in County Leitrim and was brought up in a Catholic family with two brothers and four sisters.

    I was to find out much later in my life that this was where my mother and father met. He owned the Greyhound, so he was her employer. He was married with a daughter.

    CHAPTER 1

    My Early Years

    image3.jpg

    I realised as a small happy child that I was different from my friends—not in looks, belongings, religion, clothes, or toys, but I knew in the way small children often do that I was in some way unique.

    We lived in a small mining area in a semi-detached house which was situated at the edge of the village.

    Everybody knew everybody in the village, and of course, everyone attended the Methodist chapel. Sunday school was a must, and we all enjoyed the Sunday school anniversaries, prize-giving, and Sunday school outings.

    The differences were subtle and often beyond my understanding. I knew, for example, that my mum and dad were

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