Norah Gibson, 63, Dunbarton
Perched on the sofa, I remember the worried look on my parents’ faces.
Then, the tears streaming down their cheeks.
‘You’re adopted,’ Dad explained, gently.
I was only 7, but I understood what that meant.
Though a shock, it didn’t change anything.
I remained close as ever to my dad John, then 46.
My adoptive mum Norah had died but I treasured Dad’s new wife, my step-mum Peggy, then 50.
Still, it didn’t stop me wondering about my birth mum as I grew up.
Was I anything like her?
But, reluctant to hurt my parents, I buried my feelings.
I married Kenneth, 20, in 1975, fell pregnant within two years.
Sadly our first baby, also Kenneth, died from multiple health problems.
Devastated, I instantly thought of…