Eleanor Kazdan, November 14, 2019 — When I was growing up in Toronto in the ’50s and ’60s there were things that people didn’t talk about. One day, a 15-year-old neighbor “disappeared.” I especially noticed because she babysat for me and my brothers. Nine months later she returned as if nothing had happened. There were whisperings that she “got in trouble.” Luckily my parents were modern enough to tell me what that meant. Of course, only the girl “got in trouble.” The boy seemed to have no part in it. The baby was put up for adoption. Things have obviously changed drastically since those days. The stigma is gone. Few people use the word “illegitimate.”
But the past sometimes comes back to haunt [the present]. A few months ago a close friend called me in quite a state. She had just found out that her husband had fathered a child when he was 19. His daughter had had DNA testing and found out about a half-sister. My friend’s husband had deeply buried this part of his past and told no one about it. He was so ashamed. He never saw the baby, who was put up for adoption.
This story has a happy ending. The “baby” is now 55 with two grown children of her own. My friend’s family has welcomed her and her adoptive parents. They are planning a big family reunion. The shock is wearing off. And apparently she looks just like her father.
