Linda Pendergast

A Birthmother's Story.

I am a reunited birthmother from Protestant Home for Babies (New Orleans, LA).  My son, Kenny Tucker, was born on November 16, 1968 at what was then Southern Baptist Hospital on Napoleon Avenue.  I had entered PHB in early July, 1968 from my parents’ home in Picayune, Mississippi.  I had just completed my second year of nursing school at University of Mississippi Medical Center in Jackson, MS.  I had met Kenny’s birth father, Chuck Pendergast, at the beginning of my second year in school (Fall of 1967) and we were very much in love.  He was eligible for the draft (Viet Nam era) and sure enough, in the Spring of 1968, he received his draft notice.  Around the same time, I was beginning to suspect I was pregnant.  Chuck wanted to get married, but I was so afraid he would be sent to Viet Nam and never come back that I didn’t think marriage was the right thing to do.  I really didn’t know what to do.  It was a time of real desperation.  When I told my mother in May 1968 that I was pregnant, she immediately set the wheels in motion for me to go to PHB and “give my baby up for adoption.”  By that time, Chuck was already gone to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.  And so, I went to PHB.

 

Life at PHB was very much like living in a girls’ dormitory, except we didn’t go to school.  We spent our days doing chores, talking, playing cards, talking, doing chores, playing cards... over and over and over. We played so much Canasta, that I have never played it since.  I don’t recall a television, but there was most likely one there.  I think we all felt so disconnected from the world in general and so isolated, that we had no interest in watching TV.  Maybe we really didn’t even have one…..maybe it was intentional to keep us isolated.  We listened to the radio a lot, thoug... House of the Rising Sun, Hey Jude, and of course, Love Child.  All of those songs elicit strong feelings of nostalgia when I hear them now. We all had chores to do, assigned on a weekly basis. Examples of the chores were sweeping, dusting, dishes, setting the table, cleaning the stairs and banisters, cleaning the bathrooms.  We all kept our own rooms clean.  How many girls were assigned to each of the upstairs bedrooms depended on the size of the room.  You were assigned upstairs until you were closer to the end of your pregnancy and then you moved downstairs to the large room which accommodated about six twin size beds.  It was a privilege to move to that room because it was air conditioned and had a larger bathroom with a tub, rather than a shower.  It was quite hot upstairs in July, August and September.  The “living areas” downstairs were also air-conditioned.  I think they were called the parlors and were two rooms adjacent to one another.  One had a dining room sized table where we played all those card games.  The table wasn’t big enough to seat us all for a meal.  Meals were served in a room adjacent to the kitchen.  We also had a little sun porch, where we hung out a lot.

 

My best friend at the home was Nancy.  We usually volunteered to wash pots and pans (one of the least favorite jobs), but we enjoyed doing it together.  And, boy, were there a lot of pots and pans.  There were usually no more than 12-16 girls in residence at any one time.  But there was a cook who prepared the noon day “big” dinner for the agency staff and the residents.  I wish I could remember the cook’s name…the noon meals were delicious ….lots of good ‘ole southern and soul food cooking.  She made the best fruit cobblers!!!  We never went hungry, that’s for sure.  The housemother’s name was Ms. Davis.  There was also a house manager, but I don’t recall her name.  She lived at the top of the stairs on the second floor and we were all a bit frightened of her.  She kept the pantries under lock and key so that we wouldn’t “raid the kitchen” at night.  Evening meals were usually leftovers from the noon meal or something cold and light.  The house manager trusted Nancy and I, so she usually sent us for the daily produce from a store on Magazine St.  We enjoyed getting out and walking the several blocks to Magazine.  We were never allowed to go anywhere unless we went in two’s.  And we really weren’t allowed to go anywhere unless it was to “clinic” or unless we were sent to the store or to the mailbox.  “Clinic” was the outpatient maternity clinic at Southern Baptist.  Whoever had to go to clinic that week all went on the same day.  We would walk down Eighth St. to St. Charles and take the streetcar to Napoleon.  From there we either walked or took the bus to Southern Baptist.  We sometimes had lunch somewhere around the hospital before going back to the home.  And we always went inside K&B at the corner of St. Charles and Napoleon before catching the streetcar back to Eighth.  Clinic took up most of the day!  I only remember two major outings when we all went together somewhere.  Once we went to see Gone with the Wind at a movie theater and another time we went to a restaurant with a private dining room for dinner.

 

I had some really good friends at the home and enjoyed their company; Jane from Texas, Ellen from Tennessee, Mary and Carrie from New Orleans, Nancy, Pat and Mary Sue from Baton Rouge, Norma from Atlanta, and Imogene are the ones I remember most. We really only had each other.  We could only make one phone call a week that I recall and couldn’t receive phone calls.  The staff really didn’t have much to do with us, unless there was a problem.  They were in the one-story building next to the main house.  We didn’t receive any counseling or preparation for childbirth.  When we went into labor, Ms. Davis took us to the hospital.  When we returned, it was usually for about a week and then we left.  The babies were kept in the agency building, but we didn’t have any contact with them.  

 

Usually, just before we left, we were taken downtown to the “lawyer’s office” to sign the relinquishment documents.  By that time, we were so numb and exhausted, there was no fight left in us.  The end was all very depressing.  There was no joy after delivery, only sadness and extreme grief.  No excitement to go home.  Just an empty hollowness of soul and spirit.

 

I returned to school, but transferred to the University of Southern Mississippi.  I was able to reconnect with Chuck in the Spring of 1969.  We married while he was home on leave in December of 1969, just a little over a year after Kenny was born.  Chuck was discharged in May of 1970 and we both finished school at the University of Southern Mississippi.  Our daughter Amy was born in 1974, another daughter Alison in 1977 and another daughter Anna in 1986.  We had moved to Baton Rouge in November of 1973.

 

In 1993, Chuck and I divorced.  We had an unusually good relationship despite our divorce and remained friends.  He spent a lot of time with Anna.  Then in July 1997, Kenny called and our lives were changed forever.  I had always yearned for him to find us, but had started to give up hope.  I, like so many other birthmothers, thought he would find me when he reached the age of majority.  So with every passing year after his 21st birthday, I thought he either didn’t want to find me or that perhaps he had died.  I did not believe I had the right to search for him.  So, I was elated when he found us in 1997.  We met shortly thereafter and have continued a rich and loving relationship.  As a result of our reunion with Kenny, Chuck and I remarried in May of 1999 with all of our children present.  The next four years were possibly the happiest of our lives together.  Unfortunately, Chuck died suddenly in June 2003.  I am so glad he and Kenny had the opportunity to get to know and love one another. 

 

Kenny has a unique sibling relationship with each of his sisters and he and I continue our unique relationship as “firstmother” and son.  We will always love one another and are family, even though I am not his “mother.”  I am blessed that he had the courage and determination to find me.  I did not know about the state’s reunion registry.  I encourage all birthmothers to register.  Reunion is so healing.  Not everyone will want to form permanent relationships.  I believe, as birthmothers, that we have a responsibility to share our familial and medical histories with our relinquished children and to explain to them the circumstances surrounding their conception, birth, and relinquishment.  Beyond that, it is up to the two reuniting adults to determine what, if anything, will define their relationship.