‘If you have a girl she‘ll probably end up in the orphanage you were in’
I GREW up in an orphanage and fell pregnant at the age of 16, which was one of the worst things you could do in Irish society back then.
After an argument with my baby’s father and desperate for help, a social worker referred me to Bessborough Sacred Heart Convent in Blackrock, Co. Cork.
I was told that I would be living independently, have my own apartment and go back to education. I was shocked when I saw a nun come to pick me up and I knew I had been duped.
Before I went in, I was contemplating how I was going to get out because I had no intention of giving away my baby.
When I arrived, my name was changed to Jane on the records. They thought they were blessing me with a favour, not taking away my identity.
I was told to have limited conversations with the other girls and we were to never reveal our real names.
I was expected to polish brass, floors, the chapel, wash and clean for the girls, and watch over certain babies in the nursery. The food was also abysmal – Some heavily pregnant girls were starting to lose their teeth due to the calcium deficiency.
However, physical abuse was heavily outweighed by the mental abuse we felt every day.
The nuns thought of us as prostitutes, even the 11-year-old pregnant girls, who had clearly been raped.
They made sure to remind us we were worthless and would humorously attempt to comfort the girls once their babies had been taken away.
Regarding my own pregnancy, the nun told me: ‘If you have a boy, we won’t have a problem. We have beautiful families waiting for him.
‘But if you have a girl, we will definitely have a problem and she’ll probably end up in the orphanage you were in.’
In the baby selection process, babies weighing under 10kg and mixed-race babies were seen as not fit for adoption.
Those babies ended up in industrial schools where they would be open to torture and sexual abuse among other horrors.
Like everyone else, my pregnancy was far from pleasant and with my due date growing nearer I was petrified for the outcome. The births that the mothers were subjected to – without pain relief or sedation – were described as punishment from God .
I decided to run away with another girl,but she ended up being taken back to Bessborough. The punishment for her was torture beyond words.
The first night I slept in a bush and the next day, I went to the mother of my baby’s father and told her everything.
She refused to have her grandchild taken away and told my baby’s father to take responsibility, which he did.
I don’t like using the word traumatised but I still lived in fear. I was so scared for doctor appointments, worrying that they would contact Bessborough.
I was never given a scan in Bessborough, but I got plenty of injections and blood taken from me from an ancient woman. When I would ask her what she was injecting me with, she wouldn’t even know.
The nuns did find out where I was but by then it was too late as I was engaged to my baby’s father.
I was one of the very few lucky ones who got out and delivered a baby boy.
But at 48 today, I’m still overcome with guilt that life allowed for my escape when so many others died in that place.
At the end of the day what we really want is answers.
They annihilated generations of women and children. Now they are erasing us from history.
‘I was one of the lucky ones’