Life Before Adoption

I do not have much information on my life before I was adopted. But the information that I have I will share with you.

I was August of 1973 at Mercy General Hospital in San Diego, California. My biological parents were Charles Lancour and Judith Lassor. They had met at the Vermont State Hospital and escaped from there when they learned my mom was pregnant. Eight months later I was born. My birth name was Hollie Ane Lancour.

My parents, so proud of their baby girl did not know what to do with themselves. My mother went through post-partum depression and was put in the state hospital. My father tried to kill my mother's psychiatrist and was put in jail. With no one to care for me, I was sent back to Vermont and stayed for a short while with my Uncle John Lancour. From here, I believe I was sent to stay with my paternal grandmother, Lillian Lancour.

My mother, Judy, was released from the hospital and came back to Vermont to get custody of me again. I was placed with her until I was three years old when I was put up for adoption.

The circumstances surrounding my adoption are unclear for me at this point. Each person in my biological family that I have spoken to about these circumstances has their own version of what happened. Only two of the stories are similar and these are the ones that I tend to lean towards believing the most.

My real father, Charlie, says that upon his release from jail he returned to Vermont, went to visit my mom, and found that the conditions I was living in were horrible. He states that Judy had me locked up in a room which is where I ate, slept, pissed and shit. The door was locked from the outside and she had to use a key to gain access to me. Charlie claims that upon seeing me in these conditions he contacted Child Protective Services, at which time I was put into foster care and eventually put up for adoption.

My real mother, Judy, says that Charlie was a very angry, and dangerous man. She says that she put me up for adoption to protect me from my real father. However, I never asked Judy questions about my adoption as I wanted to let go of the past, know these people for who they are now, and not pass judgement upon them.

My half brother, David has told me of the only time that he ever met, or actually saw my father. He states that he was out on the porch of our mother's parents (this is where he grew up) and heard a lot of shouting from my mother's up the street. He says his grandparents came running out of the house, told him to stay on the porch, and went running to Judy's aid. He says a little while later this tall man came out of Judy's with socks hanging off the ends of his feet, yelling and screaming things he does not remember, and took off. He says shortly afterwards I was put up for adoption.

It is the last of two stories that I believe more than Charlie's. Charlie tends to tell tall tales, make himself out to be the good guy, and blames everyone else for his problems. I have seen Charlie's temper for myself, and have even had him raise his clenched fist at me not to long ago. He is also a convicted sex-offender, one of my half sisters being his victim, and have heard things from non-related people in regards to some of the things that he has done. My adoption record is also filled with horrible things about Charlie, and what he did to me, and my other siblings.

Judy has since passed away so many of my questions will go unanswered. However I am glad that I did not press Judy to talk about this and bring up emotions for her that would be hard. She was the sweetest person that I knew, and I thank God for the chance to have been a part of her life, even if for only the last six years.

In 1978 I was adopted. That story needs to wait till my next entry as it is going to be hard one to do.