After 59 years, Forestville woman reconnects with the son she gave up for adoption
She held him in her arms for only a few moments.
The nurses left the room, and Lucy Wilkins was alone with her infant son for the first and last time. The thought raced through her mind: “I could just run down the hall and run out and not get caught.”
But even if she did make it out of the hospital doors, where would she go? In 1964, there was no place for a 19-year-old unwed mother. Not for a good Catholic girl in polite society.
It just wasn’t done.
She named the infant Anthony for “the patron saint of lost things,” she said. Lucy was fearful for him as she handed him back to nurses, not knowing where he would go or who would raise him. Would he be safe and loved?
Asked if she would like to send something with the baby, Lucy pulled out a small pendant of the Madonna and child her mother had given her. She wanted Anthony’s new mother to have it.
“She’s the one who is going to do all the work,” Lucy thought. “She’s going to be there for him when I can’t be.”
Lucy’s mother picked her up and drove her home to San Diego to return to college to pretend it didn’t happen — not a word said about her lonely months in hiding with another family in another city, the experience of childbirth, her raw, empty feelings or the child who would not be spoken of.
It was as if he never existed.
Lucy tucked her secret baby away in “a closet” in the back of her mind along with the grief she never had a chance to process. On his birthday every July 1 or sometimes on Mother’s Day, however, she thought of him, helplessly and with a pinch of pain.
But “the door was unlocked,” she said, should he ever return.
A life-changing message through social media
At 78, Lucy Hardcastle is a ball of energy and exuberance. She loves hiking, dancing and doing for others. A social worker by trade, she worked 33 years for various hospice organizations. She volunteers at the Food for Thought food bank and other causes.
In Forestville where she has lived for 34 years, Lucy is regarded by some as the unofficial mayor, credited with leading a decadelong political and fundraising effort to secure 4 acres for a community park in the heart of town that had been slated for development.
The new Downtown Forestville Oaks Park is just steps from the snug basement apartment she has downsized to with her husband, Bob Hardcastle, a retired local schoolteacher.
However rich and rewarding her life, though, Lucy was a woman with a piece missing.
“I had convinced myself for decades I would never hear from him,” she said.
“Why would he want to talk to me, the woman who turned him over to a stranger days after birth? I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve to hope he would understand, to reach out, to forgive. In fact, I didn’t deserve to have another child, a happy home, a family.”
Lucy came close to marrying her college sweetheart, but recoiled and ran.
“I remember his mom was going to buy us a house, and we went into this brand-new house in a new suburb in Whittier. I stood in the kitchen and said I would die if I went through with this. I just said this isn’t me. It’s not the life for me.”
Lucy said her story is not unique. Some 30% of women who choose adoption for a child never have another. Avoidance became a way of coping with an irreplaceable loss and lingering grief.
“I designed my life around not caring,” she explained. “That way I didn’t need to face the pain. I was a career woman and took pride in my accomplishments.
“Just don’t pass me a baby. I’m uncomfortable holding babies. I’m not sure why, but I don’t give it much thought. Until confronted, many women like me don’t even know where our pain comes from. It’s buried so deep.”
At one point, Lucy signed up with an adoption reunification registry but let it lapse. She never searched aggressively for her son, feeling that was up to him to decide if he wanted to meet. When her husband signed them both up with the genealogical research sites Ancestry.com and 23andMe and shared DNA samples, Lucy kept her genetic profile open just in case there was a match.
They hadn’t checked the site in a long time, having misplaced their password.
But in Thornton, Colorado, outside Denver, John Alge, a 58-year-old retired U.S. mail handler with a similar piece missing, was mustering the courage to reach out, having finally discovered through his own Ancestry profile that his biological mother was a Lucy Hardcastle in California.
Alge shot off a message to Lucy’s husband, Bob, through Facebook.
And so, on an ordinary day in February, Lucy Hardcastle returned home from shopping to life-transforming news that she had hoped for but never dared believe she would ever receive.
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