Review by Ian Hughes

If ever I have read a cri de coeur this is it. The author, at the ripe old age of 37, discovered she had been adopted as a baby. Although the revelation came as a hammer blow, finally confirming her deepest suspicions, it only reinforced her determination to find out who she was, who her real mother and father were, and why she had been given up for adoption. The author is an accomplished journalist and made copious notes of her feelings and the events surrounding her determined search for her identity.

Someone’s Daughter then, is the record of that journey and details not only her anguish at finally finding out that she had been rejected at birth by her birth mother, but also how she was finally able to come to terms with the truth of her own birth.

All her life she had been tormented by her suspicions. Indeed, even as a child she fantasised about the possibility – or in her worst moments – the probability of being adopted, which over time became an intolerable emotional millstone, a cancer gnawing away inside her which came close to destroying everything she held dear.

Like most other non-adoptees, which I suspect is most of us, I had scant idea of the trauma that the prospect, or even the possibility, of being adopted induces in a child. I had always assumed – if indeed I had ever given it any thought – that the adopted child and her adoptive family celebrated their mutual love more or less on a daily basis, and if the child was made aware of its adoption, why perhaps a mild curiosity was aroused as to the circumstances surrounding its adoption. Not so, not at all. The need to know, everything, becomes paramount, overriding every other consideration, and in the author’s case, even her family was sacrificed at the altar of perceived rejection, and on her perceived lack of identity.

Crippled by ongoing uncertainty, she became depressed, seriously depressed, medically depressed, unable at times even to get out of bed, unable to do the simplest things for herself. Her family, her husband and her son and daughter, were caught up in this emotional roller coaster, unable to fully understand, they suffered, daily witnessing a beloved wife and mother in a near catatonic state of tearful collapse. And unable to help, they also cried.

Even when she finally finds out who her mother is and meets her after a lifetime of separation, and establishes the reason for her adoption, she still has to learn to let go. That she finally does is the happy climax of the book. Only then could the emotional healing start, and no doubt the overwhelming and glorious relief of her husband and children, not to mention her adoptive parents, who the author is at pains to point out she loves very much, indeed she couldn’t have wished for better parents.

It is a harrowing tale told exceptionally well. Although at times the tone is slightly hysterical, its honesty is fearsome, and even the despair is tangible. Nevertheless, throughout the tale runs the glittering thread of her strong Christian faith. And it is this redemptive faith which she shares with her husband and family that gives her – and them – the support that makes them all whole again.

If you’re adopted, read it, if you know any adoptees pass it on to them. It might just spare them the author’s own Dantesque journey into hell and back.