Nobody's Baby: Memoir of An Unwanted Child

By Toni Macante

Toni Macante was born with Klippel-Trenaunay-Weber-Syndrome (tumor of the blood vessels), which resulted in a severely disfiguring left leg. Being completely ignored and disregarded at the hands of her biological parents, she learned to accept and endure all of the emotional and psychological pain of having no one to turn to and no one to count on. She went out into the world with extreme tenacity and proved herself not only resilient but determined.

What had scarred Toni's childhood turned out to be the foundation of her fierce independence as an adult as she coped with and faced life on her own while coming of age and coming out as a lesbian. In the late forties and early fifties, same-sex preference was not something people openly admitted to, but young Toni had already experienced enough rejection to make her bold.

Both moving and poignant, Toni's story is a heart-warming and heart-wrenching journey from loneliness and pain to empathy and understanding.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Toni Macante
• Release date: Jan 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311089328

Book preview

Nobody’s Baby:

Memoir of an Unwanted Child

Toni Macante

Toni Macante was born with Klippel-Trenaunay-Weber-Syndrome (tumor of the blood vessels), which resulted in a severely disfiguring left leg. Being completely ignored and disregarded at the hands of her biological parents, she learned to accept and endure all of the emotional and psychological pain of having no one to turn to and no one to count on. She went out into the world with extreme tenacity and proved herself not only resilient but determined. 

What had scarred Toni's childhood turned out to be the foundation of her fierce independence as an adult as she coped with and faced life on her own while coming of age and coming out as a lesbian. In the late forties and early fifties, same-sex preference was not something people openly admitted to, but young Toni had already experienced enough rejection to make her bold. 

Both moving and poignant, Toni's story is a heart-warming and heart-wrenching journey from loneliness and pain to empathy and understanding.

A Lucky Bat Book

Nobody’s Baby: Memoir of an Unwanted Child

Copyright 2014 by Toni Macante

All rights reserved

Cover Photo: Toni Macante

Cover Design: Jean Sheldon and Brandon Swann

Published by Lucky Bat Books

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with other people, please purchase additional copies. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This memoir is the author’s cathartic attempt to assuage the damaging, emotional, and psychological effects that negative home environment had on her life. With the exception of minor embellishments of some words and phrases, these are the true events of her life and her experiences. In the author’s attempt to protect the privacy of certain individuals, last names have been omitted.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter I: Growing Up

Chapter II: On My Own

Chapter III: My Outing

Chapter IV: Renee

Chapter V: Starting Over

Chapter VI: Cecile

Chapter VII: New Beginnings

Epilogue

Prologue

The window of the Rochester, New York maternity ward room sat closed against the soft, intermittent showers of that cool, late afternoon day in May. Dr. Wilkinson, a tall, lean man in his early fifties, his surgical mask still tucked under his chin, stood at her bedside. How are you feeling now? Her response was a brief smile and a nod. He swung his frame sideways and sat facing her on the foot of her bed bracing one leg against the floor. He patted her outstretched hand as he continued.

Now don’t you worry. She’s a beautiful, healthy baby. What she has is a small discoloration on her left calf. I’m not sure what to make of it just yet but I think with time it will fade. I’ve made an appointment for you and the baby to see me in the clinic in a few weeks and I’ll take another look. The nurse should be bringing her in soon for her feeding. I’m sure you’ll feel much better after a good night’s rest then tomorrow I’ll release you to go home. You can tell your husband he can pick you up at any time. I’ll see you soon.

That said, he left the room. She continued starring through the space he had just occupied for a few more seconds. Then, returning her gaze back to the window, she watched the late afternoon light fade as it drifted through the trees like water seeking its own level. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, she lowered her head to the pillow and closed her eyes.

Chapter I: Growing Up

I was the youngest of four children, three girls and one boy, born to Sicilian immigrants and the only one with ringlets of naturally curled hair as if that was some consolation to make up for the faulty gene responsible for my defective leg.

Mother with her four children

Helen - me - Richard - Edith

Me at a very tender age

My birth defective leg

At birth, what started out as a port wine discoloration on my left calf developed into a full-blown case of Klippel-Trenaunay-Weber-Syndrome, tumor of the blood vessels. As I grew the enlarged blood vessels and port wine discoloration grew with me inextricable and never to be denied. They became so involved, so extensive and so pervasive they created a deformed leg twice the size of my normal right leg that extended from my toes, sporadically spreading up my calf, my knee, my thigh, my buttock, my hip, diminishing around my back and terminating with a final blotch on my right hip in the shape of an inverted map of the United States. Off and on, I spent some of my first 17 years in and out of hospitals and operating rooms in an effort, on the part of doctors, to understand this medical phenomenon. In all those years I have no memory of either parent ever touching me, holding me, comforting me or showing any loving or caring concern with what I was going through physically, emotionally or psychologically. To be so completely deprived of any positive, parental support system thoroughly succeeded in demoralizing me, encompassing my whole being in low self-esteem and deep-rooted feelings of unworthiness.

My nationality, on both sides of the family, is pure Sicilian, which assumes roots in Catholicism. But religion, per se, was not a part of our family structure. Even though I had a certificate showing I had been baptized, there were no Sunday church services to attend and no vestiges of any religious affiliation symbols displayed in our home. The only deity our father paid homage to was the almighty dollar. In my first year of elementary school the homeroom teacher announced we would all be going to a one-time class in religious instruction. Now all of the Protestants line up on this side of the room. She raised her right arm and swung it toward the right side of the room. And all the Catholics line up on that side. She raised her left arm and swung it to the left side of the room. Not understanding the difference between those two categories, I joined the group with some kids that sat around me in class. We were marched out of the school, one block down the street and into a vacant storefront room lined with folding wooden chairs. The man at the front of the room talked about God. By the end of the class I learned one thing: I was in the class for the Protestants. I didn’t learn about religion at home. I didn’t learn about religion in school. I didn’t learn about religion period. Over the years I made it a point to attend several different religious orders but found myself questioning the belief that there was a God who created the universe and everything in it. I couldn’t decide whether I didn’t believe there was a God or didn’t understand how there could be such a God. I recall a response given to me by a priest in answer to my request for an explanation of some of the Catholic doctrines to which he replied, To those who believe, no explanation is necessary. To those who do not believe, no explanation is possible. Is there any rebuttal to that? I couldn’t think of one at the time, which is probably why he said it and is undoubtedly the stock response to anyone when there is nothing more to be gained from further conversation. Along with that, a Jehovah’s Witness devotee told me that because God placed me on earth with a physical deformity I was one of His chosen few and because of that I would be forgiven any transgressions. That was a generous thought but not too meaningful to a non-believer. I leaned more in the direction of the scientific explanation to our universe, labeled myself an Atheist and let it go at that. However, I did find it amusing when a bumper sticker showed up that read Jesus is coming and boy is she pissed.

I continually see people professing a belief in a God. They honor those beliefs on any given day of the week only to spend the rest of the week negating that day. When you look at the Ten Commandments it reads: Thou shalt:

1. have no other Gods before me

2. have no graven images before me

3. not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain

4. remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy

5. honor thy father and thy mother

6. not kill

7. not commit adultery

8. not steal

9. not bear false witness against thy neighbor

10. not covet anything that is thy neighbors

What do you see? I see a way of life that offers peace of mind, safety of persons and personal possessions, security and justice. What we have instead are Societies and Nations hell-bent on the destruction of the human race. Crime rates that are the highest ever recorded and growing higher as well as a corruption of systems that were designed to aid mankind in their quest for a fulfilled life. It must be very difficult for the believer to rationalize their everyday behavior in terms of their allegiance to a God because believers go on committing the same evil acts as non-believers. They must either be confused or in doubt about what they believe. However, we all need something to believe in. We need some steadfast and constant mainstay to anchor our lives to in order to give it ballast. We need something we can turn to when all else fails to make things right again. Certainly not another human being because we are all human and therefore subject to the failings and foibles of that human condition. This works well for the person who says I believe. This takes it out of the hands of the believer and turns it over to something outside of themselves and isn’t that convenient? Now they don’t have to take responsibility for those things in their lives that don’t go well. The non-believer has no such advantage. The non-believer has to be their own ballast, their own constant, their own salvation. That well-known existentialist, philosopher Jean-Paul Satre once said; Without God there is nothing within man or without for him to cling to. He is no longer in a position to make excuses for himself because he is the only remaining thing within himself. Man is constantly asking himself what is the meaning of life? They probe and they search for answers to give meaning to their existence but none of the soul-searching and fancy rhetoric will answer that question for you because I believe there is no one meaning to life as that question implies. You must find the meaning for your life in the way that you live it. That is the only way your life can have meaning for you.

Each school day began with a salute to the large American flag displayed in every classroom. It hung on a sturdy wooden pole, anchored to the inside corner of the wall, nearest the classroom door. Each student would stand up, face the flag and with our right hand held over our hearts recite in unison: I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. School was my home away from home and the only hours of the day when I could temporarily set aside thoughts of the totally indifferent atmosphere at home. My homeroom teacher was the mother figure I never experienced at home. After she passed out an assignment, she would spend a few minutes to make sure each student understood what was required while simultaneously offering words of suggestion and encouragement. She responded to all her students with patience and caring attention while at the same time ever mindful of our academic need to learn. Then there were the school plays. Whenever there was a play I could be found on stage usually in a singing role. Music was, is and always has been my mainstay. I was into Jazz and the big band sounds of the 30s and 40s. I would sing along with and emulate the renditions of the popular vocalists currently being heard and could hold my own against them.

Those years of elementary school learning went by too quickly for me. Before I knew it, the end of the eighth grade and graduation from Forbes #4 Elementary School was here. The atmosphere was friendly and light but an uneventful day for me. My parents were not there and since they had never, at any time, attended school functions this was no exception. The school faculty had tried many times to convince my parents to make time for any special school events but soon took their excuses as a matter of course. On that day and as I stood on the periphery of the classroom, I assumed a nonchalant attitude as I watched my classmates happily escort their parents around the room introducing them as they went. At the end of congratulations and farewells and as the room began to empty the teacher drew me to one side. It’s too bad your parents were not able to be here to spend this special day with you. The good news is that because of your special musical talents, you have been awarded a scholarship to the Eastman School of Music here in Rochester. My congratulations go out to you. I’m told you will be able to choose whatever you like, voice or instrument. I wish you good luck whatever your choice. She then returned to the few remaining guests. As I stood there reflecting on the impact of this good news, my first thought was about learning to play the piano but quickly dismissed that thought