Humewood House, 1964.
Disgraced, Scorned, Shunned. The lowest form of woman – Unwed Mother. Society and propriety proclaimed us loose, easy, filthy women. Physical and verbal threats were common. A young girl was threatened with an icy bath. Another punished for sharing her food. That was my crime. Each crime was punished. Bare sore knees to floor, I scrubbed the stairway leading to Matron’s third floor rooms. We never had enough to eat. We were never ever to appear at a window, shielding the public from our sinful pregnancy.
The Priest. Vitriol sermons. A new girl sat next to me in the sanctuary, weeping. I whispered some words to comfort. The Priest ordered me out of his sanctuary and told me to walk with my head down. I remember thinking perhaps I had gotten a lucky break…a complete ban from his dark territory. The Priest had other plans. I was isolated and shut in my room for three days. Food arrived. It was never enough. I experienced my first anxiety attack. Anxiety would soon become a constant companion. Pregnancy and anxiety never do well together. I respected and honoured the other woman confined there. Most were very compliant. I bless their poor bruised hearts. I just could not be servile. I saw and heard too much.
At the hospital we sat apart from the other pregnant women. The Doctor told me he was sick of seeing whores like me. His physical exam was cruel and painful. I fainted. I woke on the floor as he stepped over me and out the door. My child’s birth also took place there. My labour was on my own in a dark room. I cried for help many times. A nurse came in and shut the door. For my child’s birth my head was physically restrained when I begged to see my baby. I was not allowed to see my own sweet child.
Six weeks later I was summoned to the Children’s Aid in the nearest city. I was to sign the papers. Hours dragged by. The woman behind the desk finally became angry. She pushed my hand to the papers and I committed my baby to another Mother. I want the reader to know I weep as I read these words. Humewood House kept us ignorant of labour and birth. We were however reminded that it was going to be the worst pain a person could endure. We were rarely outside. Never taken to a pool or the theatre or a tour of the city as they claim. I know that our stories are frequently dismissed as false or magnified. The web site history of Humewood includes a brief summary of incidents that made us feel the shame.
Humewood House is celebrating 100 years of care with a Gala on April 28th. A party. Ghosts of Humewood; legions of Mothers debased and now deceased will also attend, invisible now as they were in 1964 … reminded of their shame and sorrow while trapped at that terrible place. Listen to our stories. Hear the cries. Take a little time out at your Gala Celebration of 100 years helping unwed Mothers to put into perspective the ever lasting damage we live with. – Barb C.