Gavin is a 28-year-old mechanical engineer raised in South Co Dublin with two loving parents and three sisters. He enjoyed a happy childhood, achieved third-level success, has travelled extensively and, like most single men his age, enjoys an active social life. He appears quite content. But in his late teens Gavin’s life read like somebody else’s story, complete with insecurities and isolation. Beneath the surface — and to some degree the charade — stood a young man dictated to by inner rage, who was distrusting of men and displayed an unmitigated envy towards friends and family that was both relentless and uncompromising.
In 1994, his world came crashing down when he learned he was adopted. Like 47,000 other Irish citizens, his family as he knew them stood before him like relative strangers. His life became a metaphorical jigsaw puzzle with various missing pieces linking him to his past. As the years went by thousands of questions littered his mind on a daily basis. ‘What were the circumstances of my birth? Was I adored and cherished or simply tossed away like an unwanted toy? Did my father abandon my mother? Where are they now? What do they look like? Do I have any half brothers or sisters?’ By the time Gavin entered his twenties, his once happy-go-lucky persona was consumed by the hunt for his true identity — a search that, although supported by his adoptive parents, led to many negative consequences, as they felt they were losing their son to an invisible force: his past.
In June 2000 he made an appointment with the Irish Adoption Board on South Anne Street — ironically situated above the CURA main office — and began the emotional search for his birth mother. His adopted parents told him what little information they knew: Gavin had stayed with his birth mother for the first six weeks of his life before being placed into foster care until he was seven months old. He was then adopted into their care. Using this information, it took the agency four years to search files that were decades old before locating the first missing link. Gavin’s birth was recorded in 1977 at a mother-and-baby care unit in Co Kerry. His birth mother Evelyn had spent her entire pregnancy hiding there, to mislead her parents who thought she was working abroad — an unfortunate but typical situation for many unmarried mothers in Catholic Ireland at the time.
The Board eventually traced Evelyn to Canada, where she emigrated shortly after Gavin’s birth, and she agreed, with some trepidation, to a mediated reunion. In July 2004, Evelyn sat in the now-closed Bewleys Café on Westmoreland Street, anxiously waiting for her first-born child to walk through the door. It was a moment charged with emotion when Gavin finally entered and introduced himself. Both mother and son sobbed uncontrollably as they embraced. As the hours passed, Gavin felt his pain and bitterness towards Evelyn and his adoptive parents fade as he began to understand the journey they embarked upon in giving him a better quality of life. He knew he was one of the fortunate ones whose journey ended with a positive outcome.
I listened eagerly in pure amazement as both parties relayed their experience to me some time later. Gavin maintained the most difficult point in his life was, without question, the four years of waiting while his application was processed. I decided to investigate this issue further with Colin, a volunteer at the Irish Adoption Board. He was well aware of the problems involved in time delays and, although it was too late for Gavin, he spoke of the Adoption Board’s National Adoption Contact Preference Register which was launched by Minister for Children Brian Lenihan TD on March 30th 2005. The aim was to expand upon the current information and tracing service — dating back to 1953 — in the hope of cutting out red tape that caused delays and to give both parties a speedier sense of closure, no matter what the outcome.
According to the Minister, “the purpose of the new register is to assist adopted people and their natural families who wish to make contact. It will also allow people who do not wish to have contact with their natural family to register that decision.”
The new choices available on the register vary and are modernised to today’s standards. They include the following: “Are you willing to meet? Are you willing to exchange letters/information or to make contact via telephone/email? If you decide against contact for the moment, are you willing to share medical information? If you decide against contact, are you willing to share personal information?”
Participation is voluntary and strictly confidential. Only approved Adoption Board staff can access the register and contact can only be initiated when both parties register their details. Adopted people, natural parents and any natural relative of an adopted person can apply but all applicants must be 18 years of age or over. Application forms were delivered to every household in the State in April or can now be downloaded from www.adoptionboard.ie.
If a match is made on the register both parties are individually contacted in total confidence to discuss how they wish to proceed. If one party decides against contact, a counselling system is also in place to aid the other party.
In the first two weeks after its launch, it is estimated that more than 500 completed application forms and 2,000 telephone queries were received. Ireland is witnessing a real change in its approach towards adoption and new legislation has already been implemented to provide a statutory basis for the register. Both Gavin and Evelyn welcome the change and believe it will prevent decades of torment to all concerned by providing vital links to the past in a speedier and more honest fashion. They regularly keep in touch and Gavin is planning a trip to Canada this summer to meet his two half siblings for the first time.
Gavin and Evelyn are fictional names used to protect their real identities