ABSTRACT
I’d already had one child, quite normal, when I was seventeen, and he was five months old when I fell for Sally. She was born at home, with the cord round her neck, and was a deep purple colour; she had oxygen at home. Right from the beginning I knew there was something wrong, she had really ugly features, she wouldn’t feed properly. She always snuffled and had sticky eyes. When she was three weeks old, we thought she should be properly examined. I didn’t stop to think to ask our doctor, although he was present at the delivery, and I took her into the Casualty at the children’s hospital. My mother had asked the midwife if Sally was mentally handicapped, and the midwife said ‘it’s more than we dare say, we can’t commit ourselves’; the GP said nothing at all, and I think that’s why we didn’t go to him later on. At the hospital they asked me why I wanted her examined, and I said I thought there was something wrong; they asked me what, and I said obviously I didn’t know or I wouldn’t be asking them; I just wanted her to be thoroughly examined. They did this, and asked me to come back in a fortnight. I saw a specialist who said ‘What do you think is wrong with your child?’; I said I had no idea, and she said I must have or I wouldn’t have brought her here. I said I had no idea at all. The specialist said I must have some idea, and I said ‘No, I don’t’. I got quite annoyed, she was just pressing me to say what I thought, and all I could say was that I thought there was something wrong, with all the vomiting, and the eyes. Eventually I said my mother thinks she’s mentally handicapped and the specialist said ‘your mother’s right, she’s a mongol’. She said she’ll never be independent or marry, never
hold down a job, and will always be a responsibility to me. Maybe I’d think about having her put in a home-but this was never further from my mind.
