children
My baby died at birth and I wasn’t even allowed to hold him. Then, 42 years later, he emailed me out of the blue… and I learned the horrific truth
My baby died at birth and I wasn’t even allowed to hold him. Then, 42 years later, he emailed me out of the blue… and I learned the horrific truth
By DIANE SHEEHAN
Published: 01:47, 5 September 2025 | Updated: 08:12, 5 September 2025
As I opened the email, I was transported back more than 40 years. Back to a stark hospital room and a cold stainless-steel trolley where I lay, naked, bleeding, terrified and alone.
Violent tremors shook my body as the trauma of that terrible day in September 1976 came flooding back. Shameful memories I’d been so careful to keep locked away were suddenly screaming for attention. I read the words on my phone again … and again. This couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t.
A 42-year-old man called Simon had written to me out of the blue, to say he believed I could be his mother. He’d been adopted at birth and the dates and location certainly tallied; I had indeed had a baby that day, in secret, as a woefully naïve, unmarried 21-year-old.
But Simon couldn’t be my son, because my baby had died. The midwives had whisked it away, without even telling me if I’d had a boy or a girl, before returning to tell me, dispassionately, that the baby was dead.
There were no comforting words, no ‘sorry for your loss’. To everyone at the hospital, I was nothing short of a disgrace and my baby’s death just punishment for my terrible sin.
And so, for four decades, I’d not spoken a word about it: not to my family or friends – not even to my husband and two children. I swallowed my grief and shame, but it never left me.
But could this stranger be telling the truth? Had my baby survived?
With trembling fingers, I opened the photos Simon had included with his message.
Diane Sheehan gave birth in September 1976 but was told her baby had died. She wasn’t able to hold him
There I saw one of his daughter: a small, smiling girl, with my exact dark blonde curls and hazel eyes. It honestly felt like I was looking at a picture of myself as a child.
In that moment, my whole world turned upside down. Forty-two years after leaving hospital with nothing but a broken heart and buried trauma, I was finally on my way to learning the shocking truth.
Like thousands of unmarried mothers across the world, I’d been a victim of a heinous scandal. Such was the shame of having a baby out of wedlock back then, that up until the late 1970s thousands of children were adopted against their mother’s wishes.
In my case, the authorities went one step further by lying to me that my baby had died, so I didn’t even get a chance to object.
Of course, no statistics exist citing how many poor young girls were victims of this particularly cruel crime. If, like me, they’d kept their pregnancy secret, possibly hundreds went to their graves never knowing their child had lived.
Although I count myself as one of the lucky ones as I eventually discovered the truth, at the age of 63, my fury was intense.
It was more than anger; it was a sense of total disempowerment. These strangers had taken control of my life, because they thought that they knew better, and treated me like rubbish to be swept away and forgotten.
I was born in 1955 to a strict Catholic family, the eldest of five children, and raised in Wellington, New Zealand.
Diane in her 20s. She had her baby in secret as an unmarried 21-year-old
We went to a religious school and church three times a week. Our ‘sex education’ – if you can call it that – consisted of quite frankly ridiculous ‘advice’ such as never to sit on a bus seat after a boy, as you could get pregnant.
When I left home at 19 to work in a pub in Sydney, Australia, mum had slipped me a booklet about anatomy under the bathroom door, but even then I had only the sketchiest ideas about biology and how babies were made.
From Sydney, I got an au pair job in Canada, where I lived an ideal life, riding horses on the family’s land. And it was here, aged 20, that I fell in love with Jason, a handsome man ten years my senior, who lived on a nearby farm.
Of course, when we began having sex, we didn’t use contraception. Utterly naïve, and hopelessly in love, it just didn’t occur to me.
When Jason got a job in California I went to visit him for a weekend but missed my flight home. When I returned, my employer was furious and sacked me on the spot. No job meant no visa, so I had to return to New Zealand.
I was devastated. By then Jason was travelling and, while I considered writing to his old farm in the hope they might be able to pass on a message, since they didn’t know about our relationship, I eventually decided not to.
A month later I got another job in Sydney, at a horse farm run by a Catholic doctor, Mark, and his wife, Alice. When I started feeling nauseous, I initially put it down to heartbreak. Yet I’d seen enough on the farm to understand what my swelling stomach signalled.
Denial and guilt are a powerful combination, however, so I hid in baggy dungarees and worked from sunrise to sunset, deliberately leaving myself too exhausted to think about the future.
Diane ploughed all her energy into work, going on to study veterinary science at university and qualifying as a vet
My feelings of shame were so intense I didn’t consider telling anyone – not my family, or even Jason. But there was only so long I could maintain my state of denial.
One night in September 1976, when I was 21, my contractions started. By morning, the pain was so intense, I staggered to the main house begging for help, saying I had dreadful stomach-ache.
Alice drove me to the local doctor. I heard him say, ‘oh my God’ as he removed my overalls, and I saw the shock – and anger – on Alice’s face when the truth hit her.
She refused to even go with me to the hospital.
The same attitude greeted me on the labour ward, where one glance at my ringless left hand told the medical staff everything they needed to know.
I’ve managed to block out most of the details of the birth: the agony, the terror and the strange silence that descended as my baby was bundled up and spirited away in a stranger’s arms.
I never heard him cry. I never even saw his face. I was left naked, bleeding, freezing and sobbing on the hospital trolley.
What happened next is still a horrible blur; I can’t remember the specific words used, but I know a woman returned to tell me my baby hadn’t survived.
Diane never heard her baby cry and didn’t even see his face
At that moment, I shut down, without the strength to ask any questions, telling myself I deserved this.
The next thing I remember, some paperwork was thrust into my hand, and a cold voice told me I couldn’t leave until I’d signed the discharge papers. Like a robot I did what I was told.
I was in turmoil, and without anyone to comfort me. Nobody knew about my pregnancy except Alice and Mark, and their house was the only place I had to go.
I can’t recall how I got there, I just remember walking into the house and no one uttered a word. They didn’t ask about the baby, or what had happened – nothing.
It was such a dark time. But how could I grieve a child I’d tried so hard to pretend I’d never carried?
I did the only thing I could think of; I put it all – Jason, the pregnancy, the baby – in a mental box and slammed it shut.
Later that year, when a visiting vet offered me a job elsewhere in Sydney, I left Alice and Mark’s house without saying goodbye.
A new Diane had replaced the naïve, trusting girl who’d first left home at 19 – a young woman hardened to the world and determined never to be made to feel so powerless again.
I ploughed all my energy into work, going on to study veterinary science at university and qualifying as a vet.
In 1983, I met Ian, another student. He was my first sexual partner since Jason but, having now abandoned my faith, our relationship felt fun and exciting – free from the guilt I’d previously felt.
We went on to marry in 1987, yet I never came close to sharing my terrible secret with him; while he might have been supportive, I didn’t want to risk ruining my fresh start by opening Pandora’s box.
In 1991, our daughter Sarah was born. The pregnancy was a world away from my first one; now, everyone was so happy for me, and I felt loved and respected.
As for the birth itself, it was night and day compared with my previous labour.
And yet, after Sarah was taken to be weighed and measured, I didn’t automatically hold out my arms to get her back. I was frozen. The nurse had to gently ask, ‘Do you want to hold your baby?’
When I did, the wave of love I felt was incredible. Cradling my beautiful daughter in my arms, it hit me: this one I get to keep.
I promised her I wouldn’t let a day go by without me telling her how much I loved her.
I adored motherhood, and at times watching Sarah I’d find myself thinking ‘What if …?’
Yet I’d quickly push those thoughts away.
When our son Daniel was born two years later, I felt the same fierce love of a woman who knows what it’s like to not bring a baby home. Somehow, 25 years passed. The children grew into happy, healthy adults and, although my marriage didn’t last, I was living a good life, filled with love.
Then one evening in December 2018, I’d been out for dinner with Daniel and on my return noticed an email on my phone from an unknown address.
It was long, and at first only certain phrases jumped out at me. That Simon, the writer, had been adopted at birth, from the same hospital I’d attended, and had recently taken a DNA test, which had led him, via a long, convoluted path, to me.
He’d found a picture of me online and had immediately recognised a similarity to his own daughter, then three.
While some people might have thought it was a mistake, or a scam, when I saw the picture of Simon himself, I was left in no doubt. He was the image of Jason. I knew, just knew, that this 42-year-old man was my first-born child, and that the hospital authorities had lied to me.
Those ‘discharge’ papers at the hospital? They must have been adoption papers. The cruelty took my breath away.
I had no idea where to turn to or what to do.
Frantically googling for answers, I found The Benevolent Society, which supports people affected by adoption.
The very next day, I found myself sitting in their office with a counsellor.
For the first time in 42 years, I talked about my past. Everything I’d bottled up for decades, all the pain, fear, guilt and shame, came pouring out – as well as my new-found anger.
The counsellor told me there had been thousands of forced adoptions in Australia in the past and, shockingly, telling unmarried mothers their babies had died wasn’t uncommon.
With her help I was able to sit down and write a reply to Simon a few days later.
‘There’s no easy way to say this,’ I wrote. ‘But when you were born, I was told you’d died.’
I tried to explain the impact that losing him had on my life, and told him about Sarah and Daniel, his half-sister and brother.
Without my counsellor I’d never have made it through; my emotions were in free-fall. I was grappling with exhaustion and guilt at hiding this bombshell from Sarah and Daniel, as well as the awful fear that when they did discover it, they’d judge me.
I knew I’d have to tell them at some point, but I needed to meet Simon first, to get my facts straight.
In follow-up emails, Simon explained he’d been adopted at birth by a lovely couple who adored him. Though he always knew he was adopted, he’d had a wonderful childhood.
After becoming a father himself he decided he wanted to find his birth parents, and he’d registered his DNA on an ancestry website, which led him to Jason’s family in Canada.
Jason had recently died, but a relative remembered him mentioning his old girlfriend Diane in Australia, and he’d managed to trace me. When he did, he realised his ancestry results had linked him to some of my relatives too.
Of course, Simon was devastated to learn about the terrible circumstances of his birth. Like me, the sheer cruelty of it astounded him.
His adoptive parents had been kept in the dark too; they’d been told I had chosen to give Simon up but wanted him to be raised by a Catholic family, and for years they’d even sent me letters and photos showing his progress to an address they’d been given. Who knows where they ended up.
The next month I flew two hours from my home in Brisbane to meet Simon.
I was almost hyperventilating with fear. Would blood be enough to bring us together, or would Simon decide he didn’t want me in his life after all? And what would all this mean for Sarah and Daniel?
Then suddenly I was walking through arrivals and saw him, holding a bunch of white flowers. All my fears flew away, and I fell sobbing into his arms – the first time I’d ever held him. He didn’t feel like a stranger at all.
Our conversation – about his family and mine – was warm and easy.
I couldn’t stop staring at him, unable to believe I could reach across the table and touch him. It felt impossible, yet wonderful.
It was hard to say goodbye the next day, but there was one huge hurdle I needed to clear: I had to tell Sarah and Daniel my secret.
Two days later, I invited them over for a dinner, shaking with nerves as we sat down.
Hearing my shocking story, they were incredible; hurt and horrified for me, yet excited to meet their new half-brother.
My relief was indescribable; I fell asleep with a smile on my face for the first time in decades. It was only after it lifted that I realised the true weight of what I’d been carrying all these years.
A few weeks later, we were all sitting in a busy restaurant in Brisbane, sharing food and laughing. Looking around at my three children was overwhelming, and I felt a sense of peace that had once seemed impossible.
There were still more emotional moments to come, like telling my siblings and seeing their shock and sadness, though they were all supportive. My parents had died years before.
In 2019, a year after Simon’s email, I met his adoptive parents. Though what happened at his birth is so sad, I’m glad he found such a loving family.
I investigated pursuing the matter with the hospital where I’d given birth, but was told the buildings had been demolished and the records destroyed.
I decided not to pour my energy into a fight I probably wouldn’t win, and I refused to let bitterness consume me. Instead, I chose peace, to live for now and spend the time I do have with my incredible family.
It isn’t always easy. The anguish of those lost years, and the love I could have given Simon, is a wound that will never heal.
Still, our relationship is wonderful, comfortable and peaceful. We see each other every month and talk or text three times a week.
I’m so proud of the kind, caring person, and amazing father, he is – and the incredible bond we have built against all odds.
- Names have been changed
- As told to Kate Graham
”When it’s your kids hitting you, you can’t leave’
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cy7gz3xdelno
”When it’s your kids hitting you, you can’t leave’
Helen Richardson
Political Reporter, NE & Cumbria
Jane Downs
BBC North East & Cumbria Investigations
- Published16 March 2025
Parents and guardians who have suffered violence at the hands of children in their care say support services are a “postcode lottery”. Despite a seeming rise in attacks, alongside greater awareness, experts agree the problem is not being properly addressed.
Here, one couple share their experience.
“She had me round the throat one day,” Angela, a guardian to a young girl, told the BBC.
“Another time she had me against the bench with a knife at at her throat, saying she was going to kill herself and make me watch.
“That was a really, really scary time that seemed to go on forever.”
After a family breakdown, Chris and Angela (not their real names) took on the care of a female relative who was still at primary school.
Over time, they say, the child’s behaviour deteriorated until the couple realised they were in physical danger.
They were open with social services from the outset, but say their concerns were “minimised” and they were just told to “keep going.”
“What do we do when she’s smashing the house up or when she’s got me locked in a room?”
“Things were escalating beyond what was safe,” recalls Chris.
“I felt pathetic, because why should I have to call the police to protect us from an 11-year-old or a 13-year old? It’s humiliating.”
Chris and Angela say they eventually had no choice but to call the police, but attending officers made it plain the child would not be taken out of the situation, nor would charges be brought.
Violence on the rise?
Experts say child-to-parent violence and abuse (sometimes known as CAPVA, CPA or APVA) can be sparked by childhood trauma or a youngster witnessing domestic abuse in the home.
It can also be more common in families with neurodiverse children.
Because there is no standard definition for this type of domestic violence, offences are recorded in different ways across the country meaning it can be difficult to measure the scale of the problem.
We asked 39 police forces in England for the number of reported crimes involving adolescent or child on parent violence and abuse in their areas in 2015, 2019 and 2023.
Of the 17 forces which responded, 10 recorded more cases in 2023 than in 2019.
In north-east England, where Chris and Angela live, North Yorkshire, Northumbria and Durham police did not provide figures, but both Cumbria Constabulary and Cleveland Police reported an increase in cases.
One former social worker – who wishes to remain anonymous – told the BBC she witnessed violence against parents first hand, sometimes from children as young as eight.
She believes that, although the subject is now more openly discussed, services offered by some local authorities have yet to catch up with the level of risk some children present.
“These parents are dealing with this on a daily basis,” she says.
“I think things like social media, trying to manage the use of mobile phones, that’s becoming a real trigger point when they’re trying to put parental controls in place, because children don’t want that and they’re acting out.
“I’ve been in households where I’ve seen significant levels of harm directed towards parents and carers from children and, even with professional intervention to try to de-escalate, it has resulted in police call outs.”
Chris and Angela felt social services encouraged them to offer their child “leeway” rather than making it clear her behaviour was unacceptable.
“We’d tell them ‘look, we don’t think we can go on with this’,” says Chris. “We don’t think this is good for us or her.
“They would just blow smoke up (our backsides) about what a good job we’re doing. We felt hopeless.”
Angla adds: “Now she just thinks this is what people do.
“When you’re in an abusive relationship, you have the option to go. But when it’s your kids you don’t, do you?”
CAPVA researcher Dr Nikki Rutter believes early intervention is key for carers like Chris and Angela.
“Local authorities here in the North East are very good at responding to families where there are very particular high risk needs,” she says.
Dr Rutter points to what she sees as exemplary areas of practice in certain areas of the country, including Wales and Norfolk, but says problems lie in the systems that should refer families for help when they first have issues.
“Early intervention is very, very rarely occurring in any of the local authorities throughout the North.
“They’re dealing with the problem rather than preventing it in the first place.
“Sometimes it can be services saying ‘this isn’t our responsibility’, ‘we’re not commissioned to do this’ or ‘we are restricted in terms of staffing’.
“For those families it must just feel like there’s no way out or there’s not many people listening.
“Families are crying out for help, quite often from the child being four to five years old, and nothing is being done.”
Government plans pending
The government has pledged to halve violence against women and girls in the next ten years.
It says tackling abuse of parents in their own homes is a “vital” part of that challenge.
A Home Office spokesperson said: “We are continuing to develop our specific approach to child-to-parent abuse, taking on board the contributions to last year’s consultation.
“We will set out our plans in this area and respond formally to the consultation in the coming months.”
In County Durham, the police and county council have started jointly funding “ambassadors” to run a “Respect” programme with families that need help.
Young people and parents have their own workers who then come together over time to make changes.
Jackie Staff, one of the support workers, says violence towards parents and guardians is only just really starting to be discussed more openly, but things are changing as a result.
“We’re getting some real successes from the families,” Ms Staff says.
“They’re telling us that it is working and the behaviour has reduced.”
But Joy Allen, Durham’s Police and Crime Commissioner, says a lot of parents are still suffering in silence.
“One in 10 women who’ve been murdered by a man have been murdered by their son,” she says.
“That’s a significant fact that we need to address and early intervention is much better than escalating.
“We want people to have the confidence to come to us for support. It isn’t anything to be ashamed of and there is help out there.”
‘Let’s stop pretending’
Angela and Chris are clear about what they think needs to change.
“Definitely funding for children’s mental health I think is a massive thing, but also child-to-adult violence is not talked about,” says Angela.
“Parents are embarrassed. We were embarrassed.
“We didn’t want to tell anyone that this child has been violent. I think that’s a massive issue.”
Chris says he feels seeking support somewhere you can be honest about exactly what is happening is essential.
“Even if it’s Facebook groups, it’s people going through the same thing,” he says.
“Let’s stop pretending that this is not happening, that children aren’t being physically violent towards the parents.
“It takes the adults to do that, because the kids are never going to admit it.”
‘We love our adopted children… but after years of violent attacks we had no choice but to put them back in care’: Shattered parents reveal why so many adoptions fail to HELEN CARROLL
‘We love our adopted children… but after years of violent attacks we had no choice but to put them back in care’: Shattered parents reveal why so many adoptions fail to HELEN CARROLL
By HELEN CARROLL FOR THE DAILY MAIL
Published: 01:58, 29 November 2024 | Updated: 16:13, 29 November 2024
Having met while working at a children’s charity, Naomi and Martin were aware of the challenges of adopting children who have had a difficult start in life.
They also believed that, given their experience, if any couple had the skills needed to provide the right mix of love, nurturing and guidance required, it was them. However, 12 years after adopting two young children – years in which the parents were beaten and abused so violently they regularly had to call the police, and both suffered nervous breakdowns – the children, now aged 15 and 16, are back in care.
They lay the blame for this heartbreaking situation squarely on their local authority which, they say – due to a lack of funding and a ‘pass the buck’ culture – totally abandoned them to their fate.
Says Naomi, 45: ‘We did our best, but the children desperately needed professional help which, once they were officially adopted by us, was almost impossible to access.
‘I’m not saying that I thought we’d ‘save’ them, but I, naively, believed that with love, stability and permanence we were providing an environment in which any difficulties that arose could be worked through.
‘We never bargained for being kicked, hit, spat at and verbally abused – Martin is deaf in one ear after one particularly vicious punch from our son – and certainly not for the relationship with our children to completely break down.’
It’s notable, and poignantly sad, that this couple still refer to the brother and sister, whom they welcomed into their home aged two and three, as ‘theirs’. They love them and feel guilty about what happened.
They’d gone into the adoption process longing for a forever happy family, after learning they were unable to have children themselves.
Adoptive parents have been left traumatised, their marriages wrecked – and even driven to taking their own lives – by a system incapable of supporting them, writes Helen Carroll
It’s a tragedy shared by hundreds of adoptive parents across the UK, who’ve been left traumatised, their marriages wrecked – and even, in extreme cases, driven to taking their own lives – by a system woefully incapable of supporting them.
One support group, PATCH (Passionate Adopters Targeting Change with Hope), which has 700 members, is campaigning for systemic change to address this ‘crisis’. Most members share the same grievance: that children are almost always removed from their birth parents due to significant abuse or neglect, which often begins during pregnancy, where they are exposed to drugs and alcohol. This leaves the children with symptoms of extreme trauma.
However, when behavioural issues manifest post-adoption – some of which can be genetic – the adoptive parents are left to fend alone and, ultimately, blamed when the situation becomes unmanageable.
According to figures from Adoption UK, 65 per cent of adoptive parents experience violence or aggression at the hands of their children. And, based on responses to the charity’s annual survey, the number of adopted children leaving the family home ‘prematurely’ is rising, from three per cent in 2021, to seven per cent in 2023.
‘There’s a common, but false, belief that trauma is healed through love, and therefore adoption is the happy ever after, which any psychologist or psychotherapist will attest, it is not,’ says Fiona Wells, who runs PATCH and is herself a social worker, working in fostering, and also both an adopter and adoptee.
According to figures from Adoption UK, 65 per cent of adoptive parents experience violence or aggression at the hands of their children
‘Social workers are not experts in trauma, they’re experts in risk and family life. What these families need is trauma-informed therapeutic, as well as practical, support, but once an adoption is finalised the children, and any issues they have, seem to be considered the responsibility of the adoptive parents.
‘Support is, technically, available, through regional adoption agencies, but there are often lengthy delays and misdirected guidance towards inappropriate solutions which perpetuate the problems.’ Naomi and Martin’s experience was sadly typical. The children, Tamsin and Joseph, had been taken into foster care aged one and two having suffered extreme neglect. Their mother abused drugs and alcohol, and they were not fed or washed. Their biological father was in prison for domestic violence.
Joseph was still a toddler when he started lashing out at them. Naturally, the couple turned to their social worker for guidance.
The only advice was to use ‘non-violent restraint’, such as changing the subject and distracting the child in a confrontational situation, and ‘natural consequences’ tactics i.e. leaving it to the child to work out the results of their actions themselves.
Blunt instruments indeed when you are being punched in the head or attacked with a baseball bat.
As one specialist adoption solicitor put it, with highly damaged children the approaches are like ‘applying an Elastoplast to an arterial wound’.
Unsurprisingly, things got worse. Their daughter’s violent outbursts began after she started secondary school.
Naomi believes this was due to her being dyslexic and on the autism spectrum – although she was never diagnosed. Again, the social workers were of little use.
Tamsin was 14 when, after a fall out over something Naomi struggles to recall, she attacked Martin so viciously, biting him and hitting him with a bat, that Naomi had no alternative but to call the police for help.
‘They arrested her, keeping her in a cell overnight, which was horrific, but they thought it would teach her a lesson,’ says Naomi. ‘Sadly, it didn’t, and it happened again, two weeks later.’
Then, one day she returned from a brief dog walk to find Joseph and Tamsin brutally attacking one another, close to the top of the staircase, ‘biting, scratching, kicking, hair pulling and spraying deodorant into each other’s faces’.
After trying, in vain, to separate them, in desperation Naomi called the police again. By the time officers arrived, the siblings had fled and Joseph was later found, sitting on a railway bridge, threatening to jump.
When behavioural issues manifest post-adoption – some of which can be genetic – parents are left to fend alone and blamed when the situation becomes unmanageable (file image)
Police managed to pull him to safety, and he was referred to CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services). The couple were told Joseph needed ‘dyadic developmental psychotherapy’, a specialist treatment for children who have been hurt or neglected in their early years, which would require both Naomi and Martin to attend weekly sessions.
This proved very difficult for Martin. As the family breadwinner, who now works in finance, he was unable to take time off work in the middle of the day. Though evening sessions were available, the couple’s request for these was ignored. Social workers were unsympathetic, and highly critical of him in reports.
Both children developed serious mental health problems, and would regularly self-harm, shutting themselves in the bathroom. At their wits’ end, the couple took the lock off the bathroom door – only to be told by social workers to replace it to ‘protect the children’s privacy’.
‘I was terrified one of them might die and begged social workers to get them urgent appointments with CAMHS, which still felt like our only hope, yet there seemed to be no urgency back then – though I understand they’ve had referrals now, after the adoption has broken down,’ recalls Naomi.
Everything came to a head at the beginning of the year when Tamsin had gone missing. Martin was out with Joseph in the car, scouring the streets, when he had what can only be described as a nervous breakdown. He later described how he’d started driving very quickly, feeling like he wanted to die.
‘Martin was full of remorse,’ says Naomi. ‘But we realised we were both so broken we could no longer cope and asked that the children be taken back into care.’
Initially the siblings were taken into care under a Section 20 order, a voluntary agreement between the adoptive parents and the local authority for them to provide temporary care, but now have a ‘full care order’, which means they will remain in local authority homes until they are 18.
The couple still see the children – last week Naomi met Tamsin to go shopping and took Joseph for tea and cake. On another occasion, Martin took Joseph to play pool. The last time the children visited the family home, for Sunday lunch, they stole £100 from a safe. ‘We miss them and still consider them our children,’ says Naomi.
‘And we don’t put any of the blame for what’s happened on them. They’ve developed a fight or flight response as a result of their early trauma and haven’t had the professional support they need. However, as much as we still love them both, it’s a relief they don’t live with us any more.’
One explanation for the rise in cases of children having to leave their adoptive home is the effects of widespread cuts in funding to local authorities and CAMHS, says Alison Woodhead, of Adoption UK. ‘Adopters often feel quite abandoned, not knowing what they’re entitled to or what support is out there.’
This was certainly the case for Stephan, a little boy who, together with his older sister Juliet, was adopted by Sophie Greenwood and her wife, Susie, a schoolteacher, in 2012, when they were aged two and three.
Both children were malnourished, covered in sores and fleas and so terrified of water that Sophie and Susie were unable to bath them, unless they climbed in too.
While Juliet developed normally, Stephan had abnormal brain development that could have been caused by exposure to toxins in the womb, as well as suspected foetal alcohol syndrome. He was diagnosed with autism, ADHD and oppositional defiant disorder (ODD).
‘We wanted them to stay together, so we could all be a forever family,’ says Sophie. ‘However, we had no idea what a fight we had on our hands to get our son the support he needed.’ As a toddler, he was easy to pick up and distract, but as he grew bigger he grew increasingly violent – biting and kicking his parents and his sister.
Warned not to physically restrain him, Susie and Sophie would hold a kickboxing pad in front of them to soften the blows.
Eventually, when he was eight, they couldn’t cope any more.
‘A therapist, assigned by the local authority, agreed that our son needed a specialist residential school, but said the only way we’d secure one was to report any significant physically aggressive incidents to the council and the police, so there was a log.
‘We did this, and the local authority pushed back, placing both children on the child protection register under suspicion of ’emotional abuse’.’
Stephan moved to the residential school aged ten, leaving Juliet at home. In theory, this meant Susie was able to return to work as a teacher. However, she was now on record as being the mother of children ‘at risk’.
‘The fight for support and the shame just broke her,’ says Sophie. ‘She was so tired and constantly ruminating over the injustice of it all.’
One evening, in late 2022, Susie took her own life.
Sophie sobs as she recalls breaking the terrible news to their children — Susie’s death heaping further trauma on top of what they had already endured.
Juliet, 15, is developing normally, while Stephan still comes home regularly – but remains prone to lashing out. Although she cannot bear to imagine her life without her two children, Sophie admits that, had she and Susie known what lay ahead, they would have been unlikely to proceed with adoption.
Adoption specialist solicitor Nigel Priestley says the legal firm where he is a senior partner, Ridley & Hall in Yorkshire, is contacted by about 150 adoptive families in crisis a year.
‘Long gone are the days when most babies adopted came from teenagers, in mother and baby homes,’ says Nigel. ‘We have a whole host of children coming through who carry significant issues with them. Specialist support for these children costs local authorities a fortune and, over the last ten years, the services that provide support have been cut to the bone.’
Alison from Adoption UK stresses that this lack of funding is the issue, and that the devastating impact of adoption breakdown on the child should not be forgotten. ‘When adopted children and young people leave the adoptive family home prematurely it is devastating for all concerned, particularly the young person.
‘It’s almost always because they are let down – by adoption services, by mental health services and by the education system. Most adoptive families describe a constant battle to get the support their children and young people need. When children and young people do leave their adoptive family home prematurely, many return there. And many adopters with children and young people living away from home are still intimately involved in their lives and their care.’
As one mother, whose marriage didn’t survive after she and her husband adopted three traumatised, and later violent, siblings who had suffered terrible neglect and abuse, says: ‘I don’t blame the boys for how they behave – if I’d had their start in life, I’d no doubt struggle to control my emotions too. I blame the system for not giving them the help they needed. There should have been ongoing support in place from the get-go.’
Hundreds of devastated parents up and down the country, whose adoptions have been similarly disrupted, agree wholeheartedly.
- For support, visit the PATCH website at ourpatch.org.uk
- Names of children and parents have been changed.
Uncovering The Past Abuse of Children in Care
Uncovering The Past Abuse of Children in Care
During the 1990s and into the 21st century, the problem of the widespread abuse of children in care has been increasingly recognised. There were many investigations and reports into such abuse in the UK. The same occurred in a number of other countries (such as Ireland, Canada and Australia).
This section of our website is dedicated to highlighting this problem. Although it focuses on what we know about abuse in the past, we also know that abuse continues to occur. Cases are regularly reported in newspapers and on radio and television. We want to make sure that governments and professionals deal with this problem properly. We also want to support those courageous care leavers and professionals who seek to expose such abuse.
We disagree with those who have claimed that the investigations and court cases of the past 15 years have been a witch-hunt and have exaggerated the problem. On the contrary, our members know that much of the abuse that went on in the past was never uncovered and has never been dealt with. Many of us have directly experienced or witnessed physical or sexual abuse that was never brought to light.
Throughout history, the possibility of abuse (whether physical or sexual) within the child care system has often been ignored. For example, outbreaks of venereal diseases in children’s homes in the early part of the twentieth century were usually explained away as the result of ‘innocent’ transmission through shared towels, toilet seats, etc. (see Carol Smart’s article).
It was only in the 1980s and 1990s that we saw wide acceptance of the existence of such abuse. As the Police Complaints Authority investigation into the Leicestershire child abuse cases noted: “…even today it is beyond the comprehension of most people that a parent might physically or sexually abuse a child. It is even more unthinkable that this could happen to children under professional care”.
The Abuse of Looked After Children: Developments in the 1990s
There is now overwhelming evidence of widespread abuse during past decades that went largely unpunished and largely unnoticed outside the care system. A wide range of professionals and responsible adults refused to believe complaints made by children and by other adults. Reading through the relevant inquiry reports provides graphic evidence of the scale of suffering involved. The three most important reports are the ‘Pindown’ inquiry by Alan Levy and Barbara Kahan, (1991), the Leicestershire inquiry (1993) and the inquiry into abuse in children’s homes in North Wales (known as the Waterhouse Report, 2000).
Pindown
A total of at least 132 children, aged nine and upwards, experienced what came to be called ‘pindown’ in a number of Leicestershire children’s homes between 1983 and 1989. ‘Pindown’ was little short of a system of solitary confinement for large periods of time. It varied in length but did last, in one instance, up to 84 continuous days. It was punishment for such activities as running away from care or school, petty theft, bullying and threats of violence. It exhibited “the worst elements of institutional control: baths on admission, special clothing, strict routine, segregation and isolation, humiliation, and inappropriate bed times” (Levy and Kahan, 1991: 167). The social workers involved even wrote down, in detail, how their system operated. When you read through the report, it becomes clear that the ringleaders were clearly proud of what they were doing.
Leicestershire
This inquiry looked at high levels of physical, sexual and emotional abuse in a number of Leicestershire children’s homes between 1973 and 1986. These were homes run by Frank Beck, but Beck was not the only person convicted. At his trial in 1991, Beck was found guilty of 17 counts of physical and sexual abuse. In a parallel Police Complaints Authority investigation into why so many of the complaints made to police by children had been badly dealt with, the police admit that the central problem for these children was “that they considered the police officers who dealt with them did not believe their stories. They were justified in that suspicion. To most of the police officers who dealt with them, they were no more than juvenile criminals who habitually told lies.”
North Wales
This inquiry looked at abuse within children’s homes in North Wales between 1974 and 1996. This was by far the biggest of the abuse scandals, with fifteen individuals convicted of offences. The investigation received evidence from 259 complainants and concluded that “Widespread sexual abuse of boys occurred in children’s residential establishments in Clwyd between 1974 and 1990” (page 197). In the neighbouring county of Gwynedd, the level of abuse was lower and was mainly physical.
The Government Response
The Conservative government in the 1990s said that the reforms introduced by the 1989 Children Act would help to prevent such widespread abuse in the future. However, Waterhouse and other enquiries showed that the 1989 Act was not enough. Also, the focus of the 1989 Children Act on the rights of children had died down by the mid-1990s. Many residential social workers and others talked about the ‘excessive’ powers that the Act had given to young people.
Concern with child abuse in the care system in North Wales grew gradually and Welsh Secretary William Hague set up a judicial inquiry in 1996. He also set up a review of the safeguards for children living away from home in England and Wales. This led to the 1997 Utting Report. There were numerous other investigations already being conducted by the police. By February 2000, as many as 32 separate investigations into abuse were underway in England and Wales.
The main parliamentary debate on the Waterhouse Report took place in March 2000. It is striking no one raised concerns about false allegations of abuse. Indeed, the most common concern is that the abuse uncovered represents the tip of an iceberg. Even as late as December 2001, only a few questions relating to ‘Operation Care’ from Claire-Curtis Thomas MP (from Merseyside) gave a hint of the backlash against the abuse investigations that is now underway.
Given the widespread revulsion expressed by MPs whilst debating the North Wales abuse cases, the establishment of a Home Affairs Select Committee investigation “into the conduct of investigations of past cases of abuse in children’s homes” was a surprise. It resulted from behind the scenes lobbying by supporters of alleged victims of miscarriages of justice. The committee, focused on these alleged victims, seemed relatively unconcerned with the problems of a justice system that could allow widespread abuse to continue for so long. This is clear from the Committee’s terms of reference:
The Committee will not investigate individual cases, some of which may still be subject of legal proceedings, but it will address the following issues:
1. Do police methods of ‘trawling’ for evidence involve a disproportionate use of resources and produce unreliable evidence for prosecution
2. Is the Crown Prosecution Service drawing a sensible line about which cases should be prosecuted?
3. Should there be a time limit-in terms of number of years since the alleged offence took place-on prosecution of cases of child abuse?
4. Is there a risk that the advertisement of prospective awards of compensation in child abuse cases encourages people to come forward with fabricated allegations?
5. Is there a weakness in the current law on “similar fact” evidence?
Committee chairman, Chris Mullin MP, confirmed that his priority was accused professionals, even while trying to reassure the victims of abuse:
This inquiry raises difficult and sensitive issues. It has been suggested that a whole new genre of miscarriages of justice has arisen from the over-enthusiastic pursuit of allegations about abuse of children in institutions many years ago. The decision to conduct this inquiry was taken in response to a large number of well-argued representations received by the Committee. We shall be looking at the methods by which convictions have been achieved and whether there are adequate safeguards. We shall bear in mind, however, that people convicted of sexually abusing children are more likely to continue protesting their innocence than any other category of prisoner.
If one reads the report, it is clear from the tone of the questioning of various witnesses to the committee where its priorities lay. Witnesses representing abuse victims were repeatedly questioned about the role of compensation in generating false claims, the potential for ‘false memories’ and the validity and dangers of police ‘trawling’ for witnesses and survivors.
Given the scale of hidden abuse revealed by the inquiries, the priorities of the committee are questionable. No one wants to see falsely accused people put in prison. However, we already know from the inquiry reports that hundreds of children, at the very least, had been seriously abused in the care system and that this had been hidden for, in many cases, decades. Wouldn’t the committee have made a much better use of its time trying to understand why police and professionals had failed to protect so many young people from such crimes over such a long period? Throughout the Waterhouse investigation, members of parliament from all parties had been willing to accept, in the words of Roger Sims, a senior Conservative backbencher:
That the abuse of children in institutions is a widespread and continuing problem…while inquiries and reports are necessary, it is essential that, thereafter, measures should be implemented to ensure the prevention of further abuse. (House of Commons Debates, 17.6.1996, col.525).
However, in this case the Home Affairs Select Committee was responding to pressures from groups that represent professionals. The inequality between such groups and their often isolated and damaged former clients is obvious. Care leavers often lack the networks, resources and influence to challenge such professionals. It was reassuring, therefore, that the government’s response to the report of the Home Affairs Select committee roundly rejected most of its recommendations and supported the conduct of the police investigations into past abuse. For example, the government response into the Committee’s activities stated that the government “does not share its believe in the existence of large numbers of miscarriages of justice”. It also noted that “the weight given by the Committee to the views of those who believe in miscarriages of justice, including those who claim to be the victims themselves of such cases, is disproportionate”. The government reply is also highly critical of most of the rest of the Committee’s approach.
Moreover, the police have always robustly defended their investigation techniques in this area and their view that there was, indeed, widespread abuse in the care system of the past. As a group of professionals who are used to sniffing out false accusations, one would have thought that their views should carry more weight with some of the critics of past abuse claims. The idea that significant numbers of care leavers have managed to pull the wool over the eyes of the police, prosecutors, judges and juries is simply not credible.
Further Reading
Corby, B, Doig, A and Roberts, V (2001), Public Inquiries into Abuse of Children in Residential Care. Jessica Kingsley: London.
Home Affairs Committee, Press Notice No.9: ‘Home Affairs Committee Launches Inquiry into the Conduct of Investigations into Past Cases of Abuse in Children’s Homes’, 16th January 2002. House of Commons: London.
Home Affairs Committee, 2002b: Oral Evidence, uncorrected transcript, 25th June 2002.
Home Office (Secretary of State) (2003), The Conduction of Investigations into Past Cases of Abuse in Children’s Homes (The Government Reply to the Fourth Report from the Home Affairs Committee) (Cm 5799), Norwich: The Stationery Office.
House of Commons Debates (17.3.200), Vol.346, cols 623-691.
Kirkwood, A (1993), The Leicestershire Inquiry 1992. Leicestershire County Council: Leicester.
Levy, A and Kahan, B (1991), The Pindown Experience and the Protection of Children. Staffordshire County Council.
Police Complaints Authority (1993), Inquiry into Police Investigation of Complaints of Child and Sexual Abuse in Leicestershire Children’s Homes: A Summary. Police Complaints Authority: London.
Smart, C (2000), ‘Reconsidering the Recent History of Child Sexual Abuse, 1910-1960’, Journal of Social Policy, 29 (1): 55-71.
Waterhouse, R (2000), Lost in Care: Report of the Tribunal of Inquiry into the abuse of Children in Care in the former county council areas of Gwynedd and Clwyd since 1974. (HC 201). The Stationery Office: London.
New rights for UK donor babies as they turn 18
OCTOBER 3, 2023
New rights for UK donor babies as they turn 18
by Helen ROWE
Around 30 young adults conceived via sperm or egg donation in the UK will soon be able to discover the identity of their biological parent. The new rights come as rising numbers of children are being conceived using the technology, posing a range of challenges for the children, their families and donors. The UK law removed the anonymity of egg and sperm donors in 2005 and gave children the right to receive basic information about them when they reached 18. With the first children covered by the legislation turning 18 this month, they will finally be able to request details such as the donor’s full name, date of birth and last known address. Advances in fertility treatment methods and changing social attitudes have seen an increasing number of donor-conceived children being born not just to people facing fertility challenges but also same-sex couples and women in their late forties and even fifties. Initially the numbers of children who will have the right to know will be small, with just 30 people becoming eligible between now and December this year. Data from the UK’s Human Fertilization and Embryology Authority (HFEA) shows that will rise to more than 700 people by the end of 2024, increasing to 11,400 by 2030. According to the latest available figures from the regulator of fertility treatment and research using human embryos, 4,100 UK births around one in 170 were the result of donor conception in 2019.
Few months off
The cut-off point for the legislation has left some donor-conceived people disappointed that the identity of their donors will remain a mystery. “I’m happy for the people who want to find out but I’m also a little annoyed that I was a couple of months off, so I won’t have the chance,” 19-year-old student Jamie Ruddock, from Brighton on England’s south coast, told AFP.
Ruddock said he had known for as long as he could remember that he had been donor-conceived and while he was not looking for another father figure he was still curious. His older brother along with their father had begun looking for the donor via a DNA ancestry testing service but had not had any success. “My brother definitely has a bigger sense of curiosity than I do but if my brother finds him I would like to have a conversation with him,” he said.
People in the UK conceived by egg or sperm donation will now be able to trace their biological parents. Nina Barnsley, director of the UK’s Donor Conception Network, said many of those eligible to ask for the information might not even be aware of how they were conceived. When new techniques such as artificial insemination and in vitro fertilization (IVF) were first introduced some four decades ago, infertility was something of a taboo subject and parents often did not tell children how they were conceived. But for many years now, psychologists have advised families to be open with the information as early as possible. Others might not have realized the significance of the legislation or have other priorities.
‘Incredible gift’
“Certainly in terms of our donor-conceived young people, many have got far more important things going on in their lives with exams and girlfriends and boyfriends, travel and work and other challenges,” said Barnsley.
“Being donor-conceived may well just be low on the list of interests.”
Having the right to access the information, however, could still be important to them in the longer term, even if it also brought potential challenges. Some parents would inevitably be “anxious about making the donor into a real person in their lives and how their children would feel,” she said.
At the same time many were also “curious about these donors and wanted to thank them to acknowledge their contribution towards helping them make their families,” she added.
Donors are being urged to get in contact with the clinic where they donated and make sure their details are up to date. “This is a very important time for young adults who were conceived by the use of donor sperm or eggs. Many will hope to find out more about their donors as they reach 18,” said Professor Jackson Kirkman-Brown, chair of the Association for Reproductive and Clinical Scientists (ARCS).
He said it was important that donors too reach out for support and guidance to help them navigate any approaches. “Being a donor is an incredible gift and alongside the sector ARCS are keen to recognize and support those who enable people to have the families they desire,” he added.
