On Monday, October 28, 1974, author Jackee Ashwin was with heavy heart and belly, no money for a bus ride and a long walk across town with suitcase in hand. She was heading for her final checkup with the doctor, forty weeks pregnant, swollen ankles, swollen fingers, and a waddle of which any duck would be proud. It was the day her son came into the world, and it would prove to be one of the saddest of her life. From the 1950s through the 1970s, thousands of newborn children in Australia were taken from their mothers simply because the women weren't married. The children were placed in other families, the women ridiculed and shamed. In Relinquished, Returned, Rejected, Ashwin tells her personal story of hiding the shame of her teenage pregnancy, the adoption, and the guilt that accompanied her throughout her life. Spanning forty years-from the foothills of Ben Lomond in Tasmania, an island state of Australia, to Cairns, Far North Queensland-this memoir shares Ashwin's heartbreaking story of losing her son to adoption as part of the "stolen white generation" and the joys of holding him in her arms as a thirty-eight-year-old man. The years in between found her dealing with still birth, a marriage breakdown, and mental resilience.

Auszug. � Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Relinquished, Returned, Rejected

By Jackee Ashwin

Balboa Press

Dedication, vii, 
Preface, ix, 
Acknowledgements, xi, 
Part 1, 
Chapter 1 1955 - 197, 43, 
Chapter 2 The Pregnancy, 7, 
Chapter 3 The Following Years, 25, 
Chapter 4 Success, 37, 
Chapter 5 "Getting On With It", 44, 
Chapter 6 A New Beginning, 49, 
Chapter 7 Meeting a Soul Mate, 55, 
Chapter 8 Online Support Group, 61, 
Chapter 9 Arrival of Adoption Papers, 65, 
Part 2: Returned, 
Chapter 10 20 June 2012, 75, 
Chapter 11 Early Days, 81, 
Chapter 12 First Meeting, 86, 
Chapter 13 Day One, 93, 
Chapter 14 Day Three, 1974 Revisited, 98, 
Chapter 15 The Days Ahead, 102, 
Chapter 16 September to November 2012, 107, 
Chapter 17 My Son's Visit, 111, 
Chapter 18 2012 Christmas, 116, 
Chapter 19 Moving House January 2013, 120, 
Chapter 20 March 2013, 124, 
Chapter 21 Home, 130, 
Chapter 22 September - December 2013, 134, 
Chapter 23 Arrival of Grand Daughter, 138, 
Chapter 24 Early 2014, 141, 
Chapter 25 Sydney June 2014, 144, 
Part 3: Rejected, 
Chapter 26 Return Home, 153, 
Chapter 27 On the Road to Rejection, 158, 
Chapter 28 Moving Forward, 164, 
Chapter 29 Days of Decisions, 167, 
Chapter 30 Decision Made, 170, 
Chapter 31 The Parcel, 175, 
Chapter 32 Being an Adoptee, 180, 
Chapter 33 Twelve Months On, 196,

CHAPTER 1

1955 - 1974

* * *

My life leading up to 1974 was not that of a young girl growing up in a normal loving family environment, quite the opposite. For reasons still unknown to me today in 2015, back in 1955 as a three week old baby girl, I "first" left home. I, along with my sister who was two at the time, were given to the neighbours who were living on the farm next door. Mum and Dad A took us under their wings, fed and clothed us along with their five daughters who were already in their late teens and early twenties.

My parents and two elder siblings were living on the next property situated in the foot hills of Ben Lomond, a popular snow-skiing attraction in the north of Tasmania.

Living long term with the non-biological family impacted greatly on my ability to have any kind of close relationship with my biological parents; it was always distanced and even awkward to some degree. The biological parental bond was never apparent. Looking back to those early years, it was as though I had two families, one side that were loving, kind and caring, the other I was somewhat distanced from. Leaving home so early meant I never "grew up" with any of my nine brothers and my other younger sister.

I do, however, consider myself lucky. My childhood was special and our second Mum and Dad A doted on both my sister and me. We were loved and always had beautiful home cooked meals. My "family" consisted of their daughters who, when they married and had their own children, would visit nearly every weekend. When their grandchildren came along, my sister and I felt like we were the "big" sisters and played endless games with them on the front lawn of their home. We were never known to this extended family as anything except Jack (me) and Bill (my sister). Our real names were very rarely spoken. I have no idea why this was so but that is just how it was. Coincidentally, if I caught up with any of that family today they would still call me Jackee.

Sadly, Dad A lost his sight in one eye due to a car accident. He was driving a Model T Ford and ran off the road. I was too young to remember the accident but he underwent surgery and the eye was removed and replaced with a glass replica. Over time, he lost sight in the remaining eye, meaning his days were downgraded from an active farmer to that of listening to the radio, and sitting for endless hours. As a young girl, my only chore was to escort him on a daily walk, and I became his eyes, telling him all I could see. I did this for many years; we would complete our three-mile return trek down the hill to see his sister, who lived at the back of a Bakery shop. After a cup of tea and a thick slice of warm bread straight from the oven, smothered in butter and jam, we would turn and head for home. He was a beautiful, gentle and caring soul; I still miss him dearly.

During these early years, I saw very little of my biological family because travel wasn't as accessible as it is today. Dad A had sold his car after the accident, and wherever we ventured, we walked. My sister and I relied on our biological family visiting us, which was fairly infrequently.

As I reached my early teens, my biological family had relocated from the farm and was living in the city. I was attending high school in the midlands. During these high school years, in the late 1960's and early 1970's, I absolutely loved school, had a thirst for learning and hardly missed a day. I played competitive sport and most lunch breaks would see me training for either the midlands softball or netball clashes with other high schools. I held records in various running races for a few years after I left school, and for three years in a row was the senior girl cross-country champion.

Each Saturday, during winter in 1971 and in my final year 1972, I travelled to the city, participating in the rostered inter-high school netball. I can still remember, during those mornings at the netball courts, both before and after the game, I would look back towards the city, because just over the hill, no more than three kilometres away, were all my siblings. I was so close and yet so far. They never ventured over that hill to see me or to watch me play sport.

At the end of school term during my high school days and able to travel alone, I would catch the bus to visit the home of my bio-family for a short while. I enjoyed the summer holidays immensely, games with brothers and swimming at our favourite spot for hours on end. Towards the end of the holidays, I would be back on the bus, home to a much quieter life. Mum and Dad A were well into their seventies by this stage and thinking back to that time, it was quite a lonely existence for me. I was mid-teens and living with an elderly couple. The two homes and the two lifestyles were so vastly different.

In 1970, my sister left school, left our midland home and moved to live and work in the city. I was number four in a family of thirteen now living on my own. At the time I didn't realise the impact this separation would have on me in years to come.

Scholastically I was very gifted and had a thirst for continual learning and I feel sure that because of the quiet evenings spent in the company of an elderly couple, I put more effort into study as there was very little to distract me. Mum and Dad A didn't have a television. The only noise in the house happened each Saturday night when I would tune the old white radio to a particular station. We would listen to old-time music and the announcers calling the gypsy tap, progressive barn dance, the waltz and many more.

Not growing up and bonding closely with siblings during my early childhood, still impacts on my life. I remain somewhat distanced from them and prefer solitude to family gatherings, a sad reality. I get homesick for my island home and the distinctiveness of the island, of seeing familiar things and friends, but not so much for family. Sad but true and when I do visit, I rarely visit all my family.

CHAPTER 2

THE PREGNANCY

* * *

During my final year at school, I...

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