Dear Fran,
Hi, you asked about my time at St Claire's, but I was only there for a few weeks, so perhaps you would need to ask someone who was there for much longer than I was.
My pregnancy at home and during the time I was at college was almost unbearable, not one of my friends or anyone even mentioned the fact, it was as if my stomach was invisible. It was incredibly traumatic for me and the only person who asked me what I wanted to do about it was the Head of the College who was quite nice.
My baby was due to be born at the end of December, so I must have been booked in for two months, because I know when I left early my mother donated the fees for the rest of the month. I was taken off to St Claire’s in Bulawayo to hide my shame. This must have been at the beginning of November. I was terribly homesick and just wanted to be with my boyfriend. I was really miserable. Taking that drive from Harare to Bulwayo was really dreadful with each kilometre separating us.
But to my surprise I wasn’t the only girl in disgrace, there were about 12 of us at St Claire’s, new girls had to wait for a space and we had to double up. Luckily to begin with I had my own little room and could look towards home from my window. Later on I had to share and that was really bad as the room was so small and I didn't get on that well with the other girl.
We were all in the same condition, we had our chores, sometimes we had to help in the kitchen with the meals and sometimes we had to clean the silver or brass . We were fed okay and had enough to eat, we were even given hot chocolate before going to bed. Sometimes we were allowed to walk to the Ascot centre and buy 'tuck'. We were only allowed out in two or more. They thought we had got lost once and we got into trouble for being so long, but it was a long way to walk. We didn't go often, it was too far.
We had weekly medical check ups with the nurses, but our visits to the doctors and their staff were really nasty and the doctors were so rough and rude to us, luckily I only had to go once. We went in a huge group and once we were finished could go downstairs to the Cafe and have a Coke while we waited for the others.
We gossiped, went for walks, swam, played games, did our knitting and sewing and waited. I found great comfort being with all the other girls and they were all giving away their babies too, so we were all in the same boat.
It was a huge house. I don’t know what it had been built for. We had a large sitting room, dining room, kitchens and offices downstairs and upstairs were all the bedrooms and bathrooms. We had a pool and a large garden.
The girls did all sorts of nonsense, like taking castor oil and riding down the stairs on trays to make their babies come, but none of it worked. I just waited. It was okay for me because I was able to be myself and not this great big disgrace.
My boyfriend sometimes came on the weekends and took me out and we often went for ice-creams and to visit friends of his in Bulawayo. People loaned us maternity clothes and we had a huge box of second hand clothes we could wear and found swimsuits so that we could lie by the pool and swim.
Anyway the weekend my baby was born my parents came to visit me and I was finally able to talk with my mother and she was much more friendly. It was Friday night and we went out to a nice hotel for dinner. I was taken home after dinner and soon after that I was in the loo and couldn’t stop peeing. After sitting in there for ages, I came out and told one of the girls, who got all excited and said ‘Oh your water’s broken’ - I had no idea what she meant, and thought my bladder had ruptured! I was really worried. Matron was duly called (a lovely lady - all the staff were fantastic to us, not like some of the nurses and doctors that checked us each week, who treated us just like dirt). I was duly rushed off to the maternity hospital with a pad stuck between my legs (this is all very embarrassing to a young girl!). Several girls came with for the ride as everyone got so excited - we had a huge American station wagon to take us out. I was duly settled in the labour ward and my parents were called.
Anyway, I was given pethadine and was quite drugged, but it wasn’t long before I was taken to the delivery room and my baby was born quite easily. Well, I was well attended to with about 4 midwives, one was very sweet, the others just did their job , one held my hand (I think she was really sorry, because she nearly had all her fingers broken - I hope she wasn’t wearing any rings!). After my baby was born I saw her very briefly a tiny little girl with loads of dark hair, so pretty.
They took her away. I wasn’t asked if I wanted to hold her.
I was cleaned up and taken to my room. We were kept separate from the rest of the hospital in private rooms with private bathrooms, St Claire's had two rooms, but I was the only one there. At 6.00 am I asked for the phone and phoned to Salisbury to tell my boyfriend. It was Saturday morning and he was chuffed and wanted to drive to Bulawayo, but I said that my folks were there and I didn’t think he should come.
During the day I had the girls come and visit me, although we were forbidden to talk about the birth to them in case it frightened them. I was sent flowers by ‘well wishers’ and a little book of quotes (hardly makes up for losing your daughter!). My boyfriend sent me flowers and on Sunday my parents went home and I was left to catch a plane when I was ready. Everyday the girls came to visit and were so kind.
On Monday the ‘nasty’ lady from Social Welfare came and gave me the papers to sign, which I did. We were never counselled by Social Welfare. I think she might have explained my rights to me, but it was with the attitidue of don't you dare try and get this baby back. I was so upset afterwards and went into the gardens and spent ages just being incredibly sad.
Later on my baby was brought to me and the sister asked if I wanted to hold her ( I think it was the same sister who held my hand in the delivery room, she was definately the only one who was nice, the others were very abrupt)
I couldn't hold her because I was so scared that I wouldn't be able to give her back so she sat and held her next to the bed so that I could touch her and say goodbye. So I stroked her cheeks and held her hand. I’ll never forget that afternoon and the desolation that filled me at having to leave her behind without a mum.
When we got back home no-one from Social Welfare came to counsel us and we were expected to make a new life straight afterwards. The emotional blackmail from Social Welfare was really the worst, they didn't speak to me before or after. I wonder if they got big bonuses for each baby placed.
(WEB AUTHOR's NOTE: "The Invisible Thread" by Maree Giles - published by Virago Press, 2001 - covers this subject and from feedback off this site, there were many instances of it happening in South Africa and Zimbabwe)
I was discharged back to St Claire’s and flew home the next day. When I got home everybody was ‘so kind’ to me they all took me shopping - to make up for taking my baby away. Soon after that I had to start looking for a job and ‘grow up’.
Well Fran, this was my point of view and I am getting quite used to telling this story now, this is now the fourth time. I had never discussed it with anyone until I went for counselling when I started to search for my baby. So ......

(WEB AUTHOR's NOTE: ANON and her daughter were reunited recently.)