May 11 will be celebrated as Mother's Day but not everyone is lucky to have that special woman in their lives. We asked readers who do not have a mother to share their stories and today, we present some of their responses.
Worst thing
Not having my mother in my life was the worst thing that ever happened to me.
I was raised by my father and stepmother until he died in 1967. I was only 11 years old.
My mother could not take care of me because we were too many. I was left to bear all my troubles with no one to talk to.
My caregivers were my step-mother and her granddaughter who was a teacher and had no children of her own.
I got food and clothes, but if I made a mistake, I would receive a good beating. No one explained anything to me and there was no forgiveness.
I was a good cook but only the chicken back or wings were good enough for me. If I broke something, it would be taken out of the little money my father had left me.
I still can't get an answer from my mother as to why I was not rescued. I have four children of my own and if I am to live under a bus shed, they will stay with me to get all the love that I did not get.
- Rosalind Edwards
Children's home
I grew up at a children's home for 18 years and it was awful. All except I were mentally or physically challenged.
I never knew my father, but I knew my mother. She is mentally challenged and had six of us who are all in children's homes. She lives on the streets of downtown Kingston. Sometimes when she came to visit, she was dirty.
At school, I was jealous of the other children and wished it was me in their shoes. I was always sad and went to bed crying and cursing. I had thoughts of killing myself or running away when I was teased at school. I have never received the motherly love I yearn.
Fostered
While at the home, I was fostered by a family who already had a daughter of their own. This made me feel like I was Cinderella, even though my foster mother said that I was her daughter. She wanted me to call her Mommy, but I couldn't. She didn't like that, so I went back to the home.
I went to the psychologist a few times but it was hopeless. Academically, I was a failure.
Even though I have come to accept my mother, my feelings towards her have not changed. I so badly want that love that nobody gave me. I would love to say the word 'Mommy' but I can't. I'm an emotional wreck.
- Tanisha Lewis
Trying to find Mom
I'm 34 years old. I grew up with my adopted mother and family in Thompson Pen, Spanish Town, St Catherine. I realised that I was not biologically a part of the family around the age of seven. People called me 'puss pickney'. This, I later understood, was the term given to cats that have their kittens and leave them behind.
The story I was told is as follows:
A well-dressed, young woman of Indian descent came into the district with a young baby, about two months old. She was asking if anyone there took care of babies. My adopted mother's father sent her to his children's grandmother who, at the time, looked after babies. She told my adopted great grandmother (she is my adopted mother's grandmother) that she worked at at a restaurant and would pick me up in the evening after leaving work. This never happened as they have neither seen nor heard from her since.
My name
I was told that she told them my name was Nadine. She left a few pieces of clothing and some milk.
The matter was reported to the Spanish Town Police Station. I recall that Ionie Ramsay (now Sergeant Ramsay) was at the time stationed at the Spanish Town Police Station and I was taken to see her every Friday to make sure that I was ok. During that time, the Adoption Board was contacted and my adopted mother's family was allowed to keep me as a 'foster child'.
When I was 16, the adoption process was completed. I remember a Miss Hinds from the Adoption Board office in Spanish Town visiting the home to make sure that conditions were liveable.
When I was about 10 years old, I was told that my biological mother's brother had moved into the area (Thompson Pen). He heard the story and came to look at me and confirmed that I was his sister's child, and that I was not the first child she had abandoned. He further informed them that the family was from Manchester. However, he left the area by the time I would have been 'sensible' enough to get more information.
No activities
I attended a high school in St Catherine but I was not allowed to be a part of any extra-curricular activities. School ended at 2:30 p.m. and I had to get home by 3:30 p.m. because I had to prepare dinner every evening, as well as do laundry and clean for everyone.
I had to leave high school and start working.
Sadly, I feared my foster mother so much that no one knew that I was getting my head bashed into the wall, especially if she came home and was in a bad mood. I mostly wore long sleeves to work because she at times used to use the side of an egg lifter to beat me. It left many scars. I was not allowed to speak to neighbours, even if they were only greeting me, especially males. I would be beaten. I now have only 40 per cent hearing in one ear because she hit me with the pointed part of a broom stick and one of my ear drums was damaged. I was never taken to the hospital/doctor for it.
God has been my source of strength. All I want is to know if my mother is alive, what she looks like and if I have other brothers and sisters.
- Nadine Lisa Williams
