Carlynne Hershberger

Year of Surrender:  1980 City and State at the time of surrender:  Lakeland, Florida Age at the time of surrender:  20 Current residence:  Florida

I had just finished my 3rd year of college when finding out I was pregnant.  Her father had no knowledge of the pregnancy, had already left town and I didn't know how to find him.  I also had no resources - no money, no place to live and no job yet.  I ended up in a home for unwed mothers run by Catholic Social Services.  I was 19 when I got pregnant, 20 when she was born.  I wasn't given any information about available help, didn't know how to find out.  It's easy for other people to say - you were old enough, why didn't you keep her?  They have no idea what it is to be in that situation - young, scared, ashamed of the "disgrace" of being single and pregnant, being told that the best thing to do would be to give your child to a couple who can give her things that I couldn't, told that every child should have a home with two parents!  Ironically, her adoptive parents divorced when she was very young.  She was raised by a single mother and certainly no one suggested that she give her up to a "couple."

I went through the pregnancy basically alone, living with an older woman who was a stranger to me.  I helped her around the house and ran her Meals on Wheels route with her.  When I went into labor she took me to the hospital and left me there.  I was also isolated while in the hospital.  I never met the doctor who delivered her until it was time.  During the delivery I tore, he had to sew me up and did so without anesthesia while I screamed at him.  All he did was yell at me to be quiet.  My daughter was whisked away in a blanket and I wasn't allowed to see her.  All I could do was hear her cry.  As a matter of fact, they wouldn't tell me it was a girl.  I found out accidentally from a nurse the next day.  While I was recovering I was put in a room across from the nursery where I could hear the babies crying.  Every time I closed the door to block it out a nurse would come along and open it again.  On the door was a sign - red construction paper with big black letters "BFA."  This same sign was also taped to the wall above the headboard of my bed.

Three days later I was taken to the CSS office and told to sign papers.  I was alone in the room except for one woman who handed them to me along with a box of tissues.  I sobbed as I signed.  I didn't know what else to do. 

I used to liken losing a child to adoption to a death.  It's actually not like that at all.  It feels more like a kidnapping.  After 22 years of grief, I finally found my daughter.  Together at last.