16 and Pregnant when TV was Black and White - The X Factor of Reality
When you write stories every day you figure that just family and friends are reading them and never realize how many people you eventually reach. Yesterday I received an email from a total stranger who had read the blog I did on black market babies in the province of Quebec almost a year ago. “Marie Levesque” asked if I could repost it and also gave me a link where people could look if they were still searching for their birth parents or children in Quebec. I was also told that information about the black market baby ring I had written about was slowly disappearing. Word on the internet highway was that descendants have been doing their best to make it all go away.
I attempted to return her email and it bounced back immediately and realized she had no interest in speaking anymore about the subject. As I glanced around the internet I realized what she said was true. Sites where I had originally gathered information for my blog were now gone and my many emails to the original poster of some of these websites remained unanswered. She was right in her assumption that his family wanted it all to go away.
I sat and thought about how easy it would be just to put the story back up for her. In less than five minutes it would be on the web and my life could go on. I then asked myself how Marie could go on every day with the knowledge that her child was out there somewhere. If she had taken the time to ask me then I would rewrite the original blog over for her and everyone else who was searching for someone out there.
I remembered the first day I saw my friend who had lost her child to this black market ring like it was yesterday. As she slowly walked up the grocery aisle she tried to shield her expanding body from me with a heavy coat. Friends had told me that she might be pregnant but we had not spoken in months. Years of friendship were forgotten as we walked by each other in silence. That was the very last time I saw her and only years later did I find out what happened to my friend and her baby.
A very long time ago my family were prominent members of a local church in a rural area of Quebec. The minister was quite flamboyant yet there was just something about him that I could not put my finger on. He acted like he was king of the world and sometimes showed us a pair of brass knuckles as a joke when we did not learn our confirmation lessons.
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