Getting off the Rollercoaster - Going for Adoption

"I can do it" . . and how one person's dream, is another's 'devastation'.

2009-02-09T20:26:00.003Z

From joining up a few bits of words to a whole, meaningful, and very life-affirming phrase! This is Theo's first phrase of more than 2 words (unless you count "good boy, mummy" which, actually, I don't!)

I am continuing to enjoy this. He really is a joy (as my MIL wrote to me today in an email).

Today an odd conversation at the mother/toddler group with a woman I'd not met before. She chatted freely about, after a life of nannying, how she now felt the need to decide if she was to continue with this, or re-train (possibly as a social worker) as her children were now 20 and 18, driving, having lives of their own etc. She is the same age as me.

She continued by talking about her friend, also 45, who had children at the same time as she did, and is now 'devastated' to find herself pregnant again. Doesn't know what to do. I think I managed to keep myself from looking too shocked - my mouth didn't actually drop open, though I did say she should tell her friend to have the baby, and I would adopt it! Oh how strange life really is. We talked rather non-comittally about older mothers - she is currently nannying for 4 children under 9, all born to an older mother, who also has a 21 year-old son. She mentioned that her mother and mother's mother [going back ad infinitum it would seem] had all been 40+ mothers, and began to muse on how she would feel if she found she were pregnant again. With hindsight, maybe she was looking to me for some insight, but I was just too generally gobsmacked to make much sense.

I do have a few hang ups about my age, and just in case anyone wants to know, and because I do need to face them, here are some . . .

I don't tell people my age any more. (45 - I guess I can tell you, though I still had to think twice.) I used to think being coy about your age was ridiculous but I have become ridiculous, it seems. I feel stupid to worry that other people will judge me but it does worry me that they will.
I spend a stupid amount of time calculating how old I will be when Theo is 16 / 18 / 30 etc. How old he is likely to be when he loses his mother (my own mother has just turned 88, so there is hope that I may reach a good age, except that I have been a little less clean-living, I fear).
I also spend time thinking of how old my children would have been if I had had them at a 'normal' age. Related to this, I also wonder if I would actually have been fertile back then, or if the miscarriage problem would have raised its head anyway.
I have a desire to seek out other mothers who are at least in their 40s - or, bizarrely, who just look as if they are!
I often forget that I am not just over 40 - I am 5 years over 40. Just over 5 years away from 50. I can barely bear to write that!

I think I have issues here! Fitness, strength and health are key, and perhaps some self respect wouldn't go amiss. I know I was very conscious of having an older mother when I was growing up, and I do wish I wasn't doing this to another child . . . but there are worse things, after all.

A birthday

2009-02-02T21:14:00.002Z

Theo is two years old and he had a 'white' birthday - a good fall of snow overnight gave us a new dimension to playing outdoors. I always think snow is so magical, but I'm not sure he was all that impressed - it wasn't thick enough to make snowmen or go sledging, but I am hoping that tonight's fall will give us that bit extra that we need for tomorrow! His first snow and the end of his second year. Nine months with us.

I made dinner for R's parents and we had a big chocolate cake with candles on it. Absurdly I made Sachertorte - but worth the effort - it was SO beautiful, with his name piped on it. Very sophisticated indeed for a 2-year-old! When we had all eaten a lump I remembered I had forgotten to photograph it, so it will have to be one that we just store in our memories (and arteries!)

My life is mostly very, very happy. It is odd to think that there are 'people out there' who know Theo from before we met him who may be thinking of him today. In a way, I hope they are. He had a card from his foster family, still using the nickname for him that we dropped, which just grates a little. I think I am not perfectly magnanimous.

In the meantime also Theo was diagnosed with a heart murmur. The GP who heard it first drove me crazy with his attitude. Eventually we had an appointment with a paediatric consultant who tried to assure me that there was no reason to worry and no need for a scan. I am not quite satisfied but we'll see. I am also not quite ready to become Mother From Hell at our local surgery (though quite capable of doing so, should I think it necessary!)

My lovely Canadian SIL gave me some advice: "Be a bear with him" - she is bringing up a child with lots of issues - he is "on the autistic spectrum" and has had to deal with all sorts of rubbish. So she knows how to stand up for what is needed for her child.

I am now in the process of trying to decide whether or not to return to work in June. So many pros and cons, but it will have to be another post, probably not tomorrow!

A strange date

2008-12-08T20:11:00.002Z

Tomorrow is our final hearing, and we are invited to bring family and friends and a camera to "this happy occasion" !
I don't know quite what to expect, but we have invited three friends and R's parents (mine are too far away to travel for what is likely to be a 45 minute hearing).
What is really weird is the date. When we got married we chose to do it on John Lennon's birthday. Tomorrow is the anniversary of his death. I never thought it would be a date I would celebrate. How strange life is!

Nearly there

2008-11-13T12:49:00.003Z

The court case was heard this morning and I have just picked up the message from Theo's SW to say that the adoption order has been granted. One step closer.
It's a bit confusing and long-winded, but in April he was granted a Placement Order, which meant he could be placed for adoption. This hearing means he can now be adopted (whatever) and we will shortly know when the final Final Hearing is which will grant us the adoption. That's the one we take the champagne to. For reasons (below) I am not feeling as elated as maybe I should be, but I am glad this hearing is over.

In other news I am in pieces (crying uncontrollably while Theo has been sleeping) about poor, poor 'B@by P' who was tortured and finally killed by his mother, her boyfriend and their lodger. It totally beggars belief that all the different authorities which visited this child (60 times we are told) entirely failed him. I made the mistake of listening to a national phone-in programme as we drove home from shopping today. Normally I have a huge amount of sympathy for the difficulties faced by social services, and how easy it is to blame them when they get it wrong either way, but what the hell was going on - and HOW can the leader of that department not think that she needs to resign? It makes no difference to the child now I suppose, but though I am not a religious person, even I know that that poor b@by has gone to a better place. I cannot possibly write here any details of what he went through, but I am sure Google will help you out if you need to know, and don't know already. My heart breaks for him. I can't write anymore, I am losing the fight against the tears again.

Disgruntled (and old)

2008-10-29T21:07:00.003Z

It turns out that it isn't a Final Hearing after all (although it does say that on the letter from the court, so silly me for taking them so literally). No, this is just the Birth Parents' FINAL chance to make a case for them to have him back. Our final hearing, when they get to tell us we can keep him, will 'hopefully' be within a couple of weeks of their final hearing.
Oh how crap. Really.
I just want this over and sorted.

In the meantime I spend my time being paranoid about being an older mother, and wondering if I should just blog older mothering stuff. I could bore for England on the subject. And, just for laughs, a bit of me has also not quite given up hope of a younger brother or sister for Theo. (Hollow laughs here please. I really am not kidding anyone.)

I did actually discuss the possibility of adopting again with KT (my SW), but even I could see that there are all sorts of things to consider - some directly because he is who he is, and others under a general heading of 'other factors'. For example, and in no particular order:

Theo is just the most charming, smiley, gorgeous child - SO easy to love - I would worry that a second one may not be so loveable.
Theo needs to feel 100% secure with us, which means the timing of a second child would be critical - on the one hand said sibling would need to be 2 years younger (this is SS rule, apparently) AND not introduced just as Theo starts school for example.
If I feel such an old mother already, and Theo was born when I was 43, how am I going to feel about being a mother to a child born when I was 45 - 46?
A second very young child may be difficult to find and difficult to allocate to such ageing parents.
If we had a second child we would almost certainly have to look at moving house at some point - which would be a shame (we love where we live) and financially pretty problematic.
Theo is an incredibly sociable child - and he really does attract other children so that I genuinely believe he will always have lots of friends, which would certainly mitigate against being an only child.
He does already have a half sister and half brother, but as he will not be growing up with any contact with them, this really doesn't seem very relevant - and of course they will never share his relationship with us, which is kind of the point.

There is loads of stuff that has been floating around my head; I sometimes wish still that I were more articulate, more dedicated as a blogger and could record all these things.

In the event of my personality NOT changing, however, I shall just record here that Theo has started imitating lots of words now, and said another child's name last Friday (he did say a horse's name before that, but not sure that counts!) The child is Ali, (Alastair) - the horse 'Poppy'.

And finally, if I were not disgruntled, would I just be gruntled?

A date for the diary

2008-10-20T21:30:00.002+01:00

On 13 November 2008 at 10.00am we have our 'final hearing' which is (supposedly) a formality, and from what we understand is held as an adoption celebration. To be honest, from the correspondence we received today, it didn't feel like that. It is very clinical, and states that should the birth parents wish to oppose the adoption they must provide evidence of a change in lifestyle and are urged to seek legal representation as a matter of urgency. Of course, the understanding from all the evidence that has been submitted so far is that it will go forward unopposed, but there is always a tiny chance I suppose . . .

The hearing takes place at a court in a city which is not where we live, but not too far . . . bizarrely we were advised to use a court away from home so as to throw the birth parents off the scent, so to speak. Any documentation sent to the birth parents from the court is anonymised, so that we are not traceable. All a bit cloak and dagger, but bearing in mind their lifestyles, it's probably just as well.

R has suggested that we pretty much keep it to ourselves until it is done and dusted. Really, with all the preparation and the numerous meetings we have had with SWs, I genuinely do not believe a problem will arise at this stage. But I do agree with R - let's not set ourselves up here. (Like we aren't already committed!) Can you imagine - to make a decision against us would involve Theo in unimaginable pain - quite apart from any consideration of us. No, no, no, no, no.

And this month I have also elected to do the 'letterbox' letter, which goes via social services to members of Theo's family. I will write a letter to his half brother (age 11), half sister (age 3) and aunt (mother's half sister) who have all expressed a wish to hear news of him on an annual basis. I am sure it will get easier, but they are not easy letters to write.

Just at the moment I am tired, and being perfect mum is hard; I know I don't have to be, but I want to so desperately. He deserves it.

A day in the life . . .

2008-10-08T21:34:00.004+01:00

It's been a long time since I left anything here - but here (left) is a tribute to our great British summer 2008!

I am less of a brain person these days, more the domestic goddess-in-training - and frankly not all that promising! Here is a rough summary of my day:
got up when child woke up (just before 7am) - pulled child from cot; changed nappy
watched a bit of TV (Tweenies, Boo and Bob the Builder - recommended only for the under 2's or the completely brain dead)
Had a shower while child watched Boo! (so inane, but he loves it)
Dressed child. Very cute rugby shirt and trousers.
Dressed Mummy. Not very cute - off-white ancient bra*, fleece and jeans.
Fed child smoothie and weetabix. Child rejected weetabix. Fed child some of own smoothie too.
Fed the cats
Mummy a bit hungry.
Put a large saucepan of chickpeas on to cook for meal later - had remembered to presoak them! Hurrah!
Greeted builders (currently having a conservatory built - can't wait till it's finished!) - made them coffee and gave them a plate of flapjacks, cooked previous evening (extra DG points)
Managed a cup of tea for mummy.
. . . and a flapjack, as still hungry.
Played a bit with child - rocked on rocking Moosie; "read" some books, bumped on the stairs, bashed a shape sorter for a while.
Changed pooey nappy of protesting, kicking child.
Drove into town - bought vegetable bouillon powder, toothpaste, fruit, 3 birthday cards, 1 birthday present. Ate samples of fudge in card shop - 2 pieces actually - both shared with Theo.
Bumped into the husband of a friend, whom I (embarrassingly) didn't immediately recognise. Problem = his child wasn't with him, therefore I assumed it must just be some speccy weirdo smiling at me.
Walked across park - went on swings, seesaw, slide, swings, slide, swings. Played with the gate. A lot.
Drove home - Theo failed to fall asleep in the car for late morning nap. Slightly frustrating!
Cooked Theo's lunch - eggy bread (French toast to the posh) - most of this also rejected, but yogurt went down easily.
After nappy change went for a short drive for the sole purpose of persuading the boy to nap. (It worked - heaven! Transferred sleeping child successfully from car to bed upstairs, set baby monitor and retired.)
Theo slept while I emptied dishwasher and re-stacked, cleared general debris in kitchen, tidied toys, brought in washing and (shock) read a chapter of my book.
FORGOT TO HAVE A CUP OF TEA WHILE I HAD THE CHANCE! IDIOT!
When he awoke I changed his nappy, gave him some juice, and we played outdoors - push-along car up and down the lane, fed windfall apples to the horses, climbed up and down the front steps, blew up the beach-ball again, shouted excitedly at cows and chased the cat a bit.
Tried to stay clear of the wet concrete in the back garden - the footing for our new conservatory.
Finally, late afternoon and husband returns from hard day at the office. Hand over boy leaving me free to cook dinner.
Chick pea and spinach gratin for mummy and daddy. Pasta bake (frozen from previous leftovers) with additional tuna and cheese for boy.
Boy and husband come in one hour later - dinner is served. (Well, very close-to!)
Daddy baths boy. Mummy helps catch him after to dry, moisturise and wrap for bed.
Straight after The Archers lie on bed with boy until he falls asleep. Transfer beautiful sleeping baby to cot and creep from room.
Watch a rather poor film on DVD (Catch and Release - not sure what made me choose it, but I certainly didn't think very much of it).
After film creep back into bedroom to go to bed.
*it defies belief, I know, but this bra is actually the one I wore to run the London Marathon in 2001. Yes, honestly. What does this say about me?

The point of all that is, I suppose, my day-to-day life is inane, even monotonous in its minutia. Still, it would be wrong to think that I mind because in the grand scheme of things I feel it has purpose and meaning - pretty much as never before, which is amazing. Right at the centre of it is this little boy who doesn't yet understand what it means to be adopted, what his birth parents were like, how he has ended up here. I consider the issues daily, and feel the injustice of having to burst the beautiful, happy bubble he lives in. I worry that I will get it wrong and make it more painful than it needs to be somehow. But I am so glad and grateful to have him. I think I may end up as one of those people whose only regret was 'not having more children'. But I never knew it would be like this - that I would be like this.

. . .with Nanna (my mum)

2008-08-13T10:02:00.003+01:00

Yes, I am the muppet that held the camera the wrong way round to start with, but as my mum is now 87, and suffering dementia, I thought this one was worth keeping anyway. She adores him!

One hundred

2008-07-29T19:59:00.003+01:00

According to my blogger dashboard, I have written 99 posts so far - which makes this number 100. I should probably think of something momentous to mention here, but there isn't really anything. I would really like this to be a more regular record of Things Theo Does and some of the emotional ups and downs of the experience. But I am really a bit of a rubbish blogger - not regular enough and not very articulate. Which is a shame, but I need to realise that's not just going to magically change.

In four days Theo will be 18 months old - and we will have had him for 3 months.
I was looking at a video clip that I had made during our 'introductory' week at the end of April, and he looked so much younger than now - more like a baby. He is becoming so fabulously expressive. He will make animal noises and responds SO enthusiastically to the question 'what does a cow say?' with a big smile and a loud MOOO!

Also he understands so much - I can ask him to put something back, or fetch me a nappy, pass me the shampoo, or sit down on a cushion, or a whole host of other things. I think with the change from the foster family to us there was a 'transition' period while he got used to the way we talk and what we call things (it's amazing how differently people can express exactly the same thing - 'Shall mummy get you a nice drink?' or 'Would you like some juice darling' - both mean essentially the same thing, but just shows how much they have to learn!) I am sure there are LOADS of simple phrases he was used to that he will have had to relearn. He has suddenly just leapt forward in terms of confidence and comprehension - and will soon be talking a lot. At the moment he has:

Bye bye
Boo
mooo / baaa / neigh / quack quack / miaow
Mummy (REALLY clear - he says this the moment he wakes up in the morning, and then about 50 times a day!)
Daddy (Also really clear, and mixed liberally throughout, but he definitely knows who daddy is!)
book
OK
Two (oddly - if I am counting he joins in for 'two' but none of the other numbers)
Gen! (for again / more)

Plus there is loads of other stuff which he repeats ('goway!' for example, but not in a context where it could mean 'go away') which clearly mean something to him, but Mummy has yet to decipher!

There is also, unfortunately, a few things he absolutely does NOT understand, which can cause some grief - 'Be gentle with the kitten' , 'Don't throw that book/toy/cup'.

Tomorrow I have visits from Theo's SW and from my own, KT. KT is lovely, and the other one is fine too, so it won't be bad. Everyone is always so positive about this placement. I am even looking forward to them seeing Theo again, and seeing how happy and confident he is.
Proud Mummy.

In the meantime we have applied for the court forms to finalise the legal process. The court is being PAINFULLY inefficient, which is awful, because it means I will have to call them for a fourth time to try and persuade them to put some forms in an envelope and send them to me. How hard can it be?

Six / Seven / Eight

2008-07-07T21:42:00.002+01:00

The date of my first birthday as a mother. Wow.

I had a lovely, lovely day. Theo is best in familiar surroundings with people he knows well, so DH and I simply took him in his pushchair a mile down the lane to a country pub where we could eat after playing with Theo in the puddles (oh - he got VERY wet!) and on the lawn with his ball.

Theo was sweetness and light, he sat happily strapped into a booster seat eating marmite sandwiches and various other favourites while we ate Sunday roasts. We took about an hour to walk the mile back, stopping for puddles and totally "going with the (Theo) flow". He had a lovely time - ergo, so did we.

In the evening instead of the posh meal that DH had planned to cook for me we found we were not so very hungry and ate leftover reheated veggie lasagne in front of the Wimbledon men's final on TV. The result was what I'd hoped for, though I could barely watch after the fourth set went to Federer!

All my birthday wishes have come true.

In which I speak sternly to myself . . .

2008-06-30T20:31:00.003+01:00

Yes, Theo has had some knocks, but he left a very bad home situation aged just 6 weeks.
He will be fine.
It will, however, take TIME.
Have some PATIENCE!
I know this has never been strongest suit, but really, nothing can change in such a short time, and there is SO MUCH TIME to come.

PS This is all worth it, because the most beautiful sound in the whole world is Theo laughing - which he does frequently.

Trying too hard

2008-06-19T21:14:00.003+01:00

When Theo was born he spent 4 weeks in NICU, recovering from his BM's drug habit. Now, I don't have any personal experience of withdrawing from class A drugs, but my guess is there is some considerable pain involved. Theo was a tiny baby, and couldn't possibly understand why he was suffering like this. In addition, there was no ever-present mummy to comfort him when he cried. He would have learnt pretty early on that pain is part of life, and that there is not much comfort offered by grown-ups.
He has had a few hard lessons.

He has developed a few strategies that make sense to him, but break my heart.

If I try and hold him if he is hurt or simply tired, he rarely allows it. He wails and wails, works himself up into a real state and struggles free - then he lies on the floor with his head down, his hands round his face. It's a 'leave me alone, I do this alone' pose.

I am trying soooo hard to help him to trust me. I know it will be a long process, but I need to be there, pick him up each time he falls, (prevent the fall even!), anticipate his every need, wish, frustration. Over time I need him to learn that I am reliable, will love him, will control his world and make it safe for him, that I will look after him, and he doesn't need to.

Some of this is a little different to what I might have been doing with a 16 month old birth child, and not many people understand what the issues are.

But this evening, after he had gone to bed, I cried buckets to R. I am exhausting myself but I can't put less into this relationship with Theo. I love him so much, it's physical. I feel so extraordinarily fiercely protective, but he has already been hurt - and I want SO MUCH to make him better.

One day I will write a post in praise of my fabulous social worker, KT. In the meantime, I will just leave you with her wise thoughts, which at least mean that someone understands the gap that I am trying so hard to fill. The thing is, Theo seems so incredibly normal, and is such a happy, sociable, bright and generally gorgeous child. But KT can see what I mean, and she said he wil be happy and secure, because I love him and that she absolutely believes he will be the best he can be. But she also said I need to realise he will never be the person he would have been if I had been his birth mother. Of course he won't - how could he be after what he has been through? I do know that.

How can I ever make it up to him?

6 weeks

2008-06-13T21:02:00.002+01:00

Tomorrow we meet up with Theo's ex foster family again - just for an hour or so. We will meet at a park - neutral ground. The idea behind this is that Theo should not feel as though the family simply disappeared without trace, fell off the edge of the earth . . .

When we originally arranged it I didn't really think twice - I thought it would be a good idea. And now I am not so sure. OK - an older child might be reassured. He is just 16 months. Will he remember them? Assuming he does, how will it make him feel to meet them again, and then be parted from them once more? Will he understand that this is a reassurance meeting, done for his benefit? Or will he just be more confused, unsettled by the whole thing?

I have decided not to object if they want to pick him up, call him by their pet name for him (which we don't use), kiss him, cuddle him and so on. I don't feel threatened by them - though I think I did at first, when Theo was still so new. I know that the foster parents will be fine - they are straightforward, practical people; their teenage son, also, is unlikely to get over-emotional. But the teenage girl, almost at the end of her GCSE exams, is a potential wild card. But it's only a short meeting, and we never have to do this again.

I'm feeling like this is something we are doing for the foster family which is NOT THE POINT AT ALL. I am not looking forward to it for myself, but mostly I am worried on my little one's behalf.

Theo just woke, screaming, and inconsolable, which has NEVER happened before. It took me a few minutes just to wake him up enough to be able to calm him. Once he was properly awake he immediately calmed down, drank some milk, and went easily back to sleep. Thank heavens it was tonight and not tomorrow, though, or I would have been convinced that the meeting was the cause of unsettling him. Poor little bean, it made me cry to see him so distressed.

Here he is

2008-06-02T23:27:00.005+01:00

Couldn't resist, but will remove these soon!

Will post more when I have found a way of making time!

SORRY - NOTHING TO SEE HERE!

How we brought him home

2008-05-10T20:26:00.003+01:00

Right up until really close to it actually taking place I was unsure about timescales and the actual nuts and bolts of what they call 'transferring' a child, so I thought it might be of interest to record it here. Also, of course, for me looking back at how I felt, I wanted to blog on various days during the transfer, but found myself exhausted or simply out of time in the day.
We initially had a meeting during which the timetable was put together with the following members of Social Services:
Head Honcho of Children's Services
Our SW, KT (whom I love more and more - she has become such a fantastic support)
Theo's SW (a young woman in her mid 20s)
SW for Theo's foster mother.
Also present at the meeting were me and R, and Theo's foster mother - I will call her Andrea.

The plan that emerged . . .

Thursday April 24
9.00am: R and I to Andrea's house to meet Theo. We stay about an hour and a half. 2 SWs also present for this first meeting.

Friday April 25
A day's 'grace' in case we decide after all this that we don't feel a connexion with Theo, and want to pull out.

Saturday April 26
1.30pm: R and I to Andrea's house staying until about 4pm, Theo's tea time.

Sunday April 27
8am: R and I to Andrea's house to participate in Theo's morning routine. Give him breakfast and lunch and leave shortly after midday.
4pm: Return to give Theo tea and spend the rest of the afternoon there until about 6pm.

Monday April 28
9.00am - Me to Andrea's and go out together (me Andrea and Theo - plus her 2-yr-old foster daughter) in my car on a shopping trip to the supermarket.
12.00pm - Return to Andrea's for lunch, meeting R there. Me and R spend the afternoon at Andrea's house playing with Theo, while Andrea is absent from the house and takes foster daughter for a walk. Give Theo tea at 4pm and leave.
(At this point I started to have a problem with the process that, stupidly I had simply not forseen. I HATED leaving him - especially when I felt that we were beginning to form a bond, and knew that Andrea would be out with him at various places where he was handed around for cuddles with anybody. And nightimes I would wake up and MISS him being there. Monday was the low-point for me - the process seemed so flawed, Theo chose to run to Andrea on one occasion when he bumped his head and hurt himself. I know it was silly, but I was hurt. I phoned KT, who was superb and told me how everything I was experiencing was normal. She also made it clear that there were certain aspects of the week which, in her view, were not being best handled. It helped me to know she understood and very much agreed with the main issues I had.)

Tuesday April 29
7.30am: Me to Andrea's to do 'morning routine', joined at 9.00am by R. R and I take Theo out together (we went to a little playground with swings and a climbing frame, which he LOVED) and then gave him lunch (prepared in advance, and we took him into Starbucks - which was a riot!)
1.00pm: We collect Andrea from her home so that she can accompany Theo on his first trip to our house. He spends about an hour and a half at our house, exploring and playing with a few familiar toys. We all return to Andrea's for Theo's tea at 4pm.

Wednesday April 30
8.30am: R and I to Andrea's, pick up Theo to spend the day at our house, returning him for 4pm.

Thursday May 1
10.30 / 11.00 am: R and I collect Theo from Andrea's returning him around 6.30 / 7pm for us to bath him and put him to bed. (This was traumatic, as he had had quite a stimulating and exciting day with us and did NOT want to go to bed! Hence tears - both mine and his!)

Friday May 2
"Move Day" R and I to collect Theo and take him home. KT present. "Handover to be kept short". It took about 45 minutes, and Andrea's teenage children had taken the morning off school to be there, so emotions were higher than they really should have been, but we took him home.

That was the nuts and bolts of it, anyway.

A different reason to cry

2008-05-05T20:27:00.002+01:00

My little boy has just fallen asleep in his cot at last - it's taken well over an hour, and tears from him and tears from me.
As planned, we spent nearly a week of "introductions" until the big day on Friday when we brought him home, with it gradually dawning on us that not only was he about to spend the night with us, he was actually about to spend the next 16+ years with us.
I worried that in his new surroundings he may not sleep well. We brought the mattress and bedding, unwashed, from his foster home and put it in his cot here. We followed his evening routine to the letter, though of course his bath was our bath, not his usual, his surroundings entirely different. He had had plenty of time to play here, to eat here, to explore; he'd had naps here and seemed relaxed and 'at home' - but of course sleeping overnight was going to be the biggie.
We congratulated ourselves on an uneventful first night. I sang him to sleep as he lay on my tummy, his head on my chest. It was like a dream. He slept, just stirring with a whimper every hour or so. Because I sleep lightly I got up to check every time, covered him again with his blanket, but he didn't wake up till morning.
Second night, same thing.
Last night, I don't know quite what happened but he just seemed unable to relax physically. He showed every sign of wanting to sleep, he yawned, rubbed his eyes, but even when he did fall asleep he would waken himself by crying loudly in his sleep, still in my arms. Eventually he fell asleep in R's arms, we put him in his cot and he slept unusually peacefully all night.
Tonight, hoping to avoid the pattern from last night, R offered to put him down. Nope, Theo apparently just kept coming to the top stair gate and calling 'mama' until R gave up. So I tried. Pretty much everything.
I sang to him.
I rocked him.
I talked to him.
I undressed him and me and rocked him skin-to-skin.
I put him in his cot and stayed with him.
I put him in his cot and left him, though he cried. (Not recommended. This is the bit that made me cry. I cannot listen to a baby crying for me, when I could go to him. How do people do this?)
Eventually I put him in his cot and spoke firmly to him as he tried to play 'boo' with me, using his topsheet. I said "Goodnight, darling, see you in the morning" and left the room.
(He is so gorgeous). He fell asleep that time. But I feel that I don't know what I am doing.

R has 2 weeks paternity, and doesn't go back to work until 19 May, but I wonder what it will be like when he does go back. I am so tired.

He is, however, in spite of the above, the easiest, loveliest, most adorable child you could imagine.
He smiles and giggles and (mostly) eats anything. He dances to any music that comes on the radio, he looks like an angel. He is SO bright and learns so quickly.
We laugh that we fed him asparagus risotto.
He came to us with a collection of ghastly plastic toys with batteries, flashing lights and american accents (no offence, but we don't live in America). We are introducing him to nice middle-class wooden toys, and giving him loads of one-to-one.
Sometimes we play him classical music. He hears Pink Floyd and David Bowie. (Kooks - great song for our situation - look up the lyrics on google!)

I think I am doing this all wrong. I think I am trying too hard, and wearing us both out.

Please don't tell me to leave him to cry on his own in a room. I can't bear to think I would do that. I didn't wait all this time to become a mother to leave a baby to cry with no comfort and no love.

Very disjointed post.
I am in love with this child, he is completely incredible, he is more beautiful and clever and adorable than I would ever have imagined. But it is not a bed of roses. Who knew? (!)

Silly me.

The panel, they say 'YES'

2008-04-21T17:50:00.003+01:00

Says it all really, what more do I need to say?
It is a very daunting experience, to be interviewed for the job of adoptive parent, to sit in front of 12 or so people and have them make a completely life-changing decision - or at least sanction that decision.

But they were so positive. They asked how we felt when we saw the video of Theo (I have settled on Theo as a name for him here, it feels right) - and I said that I felt it made everything very real, and also made me want to pick Theo up and cuddle him (which was true). The right answer I think! How would we adapt our lifestyle to involve him in all our outdoor stuff? We told them about the baby carrier for the bike, the baby-rucksack carrier, the paddling pool (for when it gets warmer) the sand pit - we waxed enthusiastic about all the things we have planned. They smiled and made notes. And finally, how would we approach his life story? I spoke from the heart about his loss, and how I felt the need not just to help him understand about the circumstances that he has come from, but also the need to make it OK for him. I know enough now about his birth parents that I truly believe they love him, and would love to bring him up - they are just not in a place to do that. He has suffered such losses already. I do understand loss.

Just at the moment, strange as it may sound, I wouldn't change a thing. This is right, and I feel very peaceful. Not literally - things are quite chaotic what with planning, buying, painting, rushing, explaining. But inside I feel quite profoundly peaceful.

On Thursday we will meet Theo for the first time. At the weekend we will start the process of transferring him from his current foster carers to us. It will take about a week to ten days. We expect to have him home with us at the beginning of May.

PS - forgot to say again how old he is - he is 14 months old. He is just walking. He is really a gorgeous baby - it is getting to be funny that everyone who has had personal contact with him uses the same word - gorgeous.

Bad news and good.

2008-04-11T17:59:00.004+01:00

Apologies if anyone has been checking here for non-existent updates. Things have moved on, and in some ways I have been so caught up it has been hard to post.

Firstly I have to say, part of the lack of post was because I wanted to blog a poetic, beautiful post about my babycat, Delia, whom I loved SO much, and who was hit and killed by a car last week, while we were on holiday. Not so unusual, I suppose, but we live in a house where maybe 10 -20 cars pass in 24 hours. And both cats vanish at the sound of one, so I can't imagine what happened, but my return from holiday was marked by the saddest, saddest cat burial. My neighbour had found her and wrapped her in a fleece blanket and placed her in a cat basket so we could bury her [and cuddle her lifeless body] on our return. Truly, if tears could have brought her back, she would be here now. Dear Delia. I loved you for your faults, and in spite of them, for your cuddly, soft warm fur, big round eyes, because you could open doors, because you found a place to sleep on top of the wardrobe in our room, because you would eat marmite on toast and sultanas from my fruit cake. I could go on, but I can't without making myself too sad again.

So on to the good news.
I don't have a name for him for here, yet, but he is GORGEOUS. The placement order has been granted (though a day later than planned, which kept stress levels higher than necessary) and we have since met with his sw, who has given us the green light. A four hour meeting (yes, really) but a good result, and we even got to see a video of him, and I have a photo in my bag.

Honestly, for obvious reasons I can't post a picture, but he is smiley, eats like a horse and is into everything. I am already so in love. I worried that I might find bonding hard, but I know I won't. Finally I am allowed to feel this is OK. I am going to be a mummy, really soon.

On 21st April we go to matching panel, and something would have to go seriously wrong at this stage for things to founder now. Then we have a planning meeting later that week, in which we decide the timetable for handing him over to us. Handover is a long-ish process (1-2 weeks) so as to minimise the trauma for him, though of course it will be hard for him. We will meet him for the first time, and have 24 hours to reflect in case we want to change our minds (very fair to build this in, but I don't think we will need it).

After the first meeting the process is: watch, join-in, do. For example we watch him fed, join in feeding him and then feed him ourselves - so that he gets used to the transfer of care-giving. Likewise bathing, putting to bed, getting up, etc etc etc. We do this over the period, gradually taking over each aspect of his daily routine from his foster family. I could write reams about the loss involved in his short life so far, and in those of the people around him, but I am continuing to work that through, and at base I feel sure that the plan for him is truly in his best interests. He was not removed from his birth parents for anything other than his best interests.

I have also struggled with the whole idea of being an older mother, but managed to come to terms with that, to a large extent anyway. I do believe I will be a better mother now than I would have 20 or even 15 years ago. 5 or 10 years ago would have been good, but life doesn't always work out that way, does it?
So. It is really happening.
I am going to be a mummy.
And thank heavens I live in the UK - I get a year off work - OK, 6 months is unpaid, but I will have TIME with my son.

My son. Wow. That's a weird thing to write.

Calmer but no closer

2008-03-28T13:26:00.002Z

Well, the intervening 10 days have been good for me. I have calmed down a lot, and [dare I say it?] I am even beginning to look forward to bringing this little boy home.

So how on earth did I get here?

To begin with (and to some extent still) I could simply think OF NOTHING ELSE. I found myself in tears in the car just from the stress of having to live and even function alongside this constant banging of questions in my head.

I spent time on the phone to two very good friends. One is a GP and has friends and contacts who are paediatricians and similar experts. The other is such a good friend that she spent ages googling for me and also has friends who work with addicts. They both came back to me with their findings, plus lots of love and compassion (for me this time) and it was a HUGE help.

There is more to come in, but the general feeling is that . . . well things could be a lot worse. Surprisingly (I thought) the drug is not actually all that damaging in itself – it’s the addiction itself that does so much damage and leads its victims into the desperate lives of stealing and dropping out. I need to get answers to lots of questions – it’s unlikely, for example that the birth mother swore off alcohol and other drugs, which could have been more dangerous . . . I need to find out about the baby’s experiences during withdrawal, about his current development etc etc – but I am feeling considerably more optimistic.

So I had some good friends, some good advice, and should have been feeling a lot better, when I realised that there was more to my panic. In brief: I will be stopping work, for at least a year, possibly more. As a couple we will lose nearly half our income, but have a lot more to spend our money on. I haven’t ever brought up a child before. What if I don’t know what to do? What if I don’t bond? What if after 3 months I realise I don’t want this? What if just doing this is the WRONG THING?

I was so angry with myself too, because I thought I had just realised, after this whole journey, that I don’t want to have a child at all. Not the case. Just nerves as the prospect of my wishes fulfilled approaches. . . at least I think so!

And now I think I am back on track – although if the placement order is not granted on the third, I will probably have a breakdown. But bizarrely, in spite of myself and my general predisposition for being over-excitable and fairly impatient, I am feeling reasonably calm.

I think this will work out, but if it doesn’t I think I will cope.

Famous last words?!

PS Excuse the rather crappy name change – I just need to make myself a little more anonymous to RL people, and while I realise this is not exactly high security, it doesn’t involve setting up either a whole new blog, or making it ‘inviteds’ only, which seems a little extreme and exclusive, which I have never claimed to be!

The space between anger and compassion and just walking away . . .

2008-03-18T20:40:00.002Z

I wish I could express all the stuff that I would like to be able to say, but I fear I shall not manage to.
My head is actually spinning (well, not actually, but it feels like it is inside at least).

Where to start?

When we talked to KT yesterday I was full of compassion, genuine, heartfelt sorrow for a fellow human woman who is unable to sort her life, to even the smallest extent. She has 3 children, all different fathers. All are being looked after, by family members, or by the state. She has been in hospital, with 'significant injuries' inflicted by the father of one of her children. She has spent time in prison for drug-related crime (stealing, presumably) where she apparently does well, as there is a structure and there are rules. She has been so UNLUCKY. A disorganised, unloving home which left her with a chasm where the love of a mother should be. Presumably male role-models who were violent, leaving her to chose similar types herself. A lack of any type of self-worth to prevent her from falling into the destruction of the addiction that has taken choices and value out of her life. And is now taking her children. Honestly, it breaks my heart.

On the other hand R and I are so well off. I have a home, a good, interesting job, a lovely relationship, I have friends, family, food, car - actually I have everything I need - and much more. I have no children, through some odd twist of fate, but because I am who I am there is a good chance I can even sort that out, and bring up children that the state considers better off in my care than in their own birth-family's. I am LUCKY.

That was the starting position, but before you label me Mother Theresa, let me tell you about how angry I am too.

This little baby was born add*cted to h*roin for god's sake! WHAT SORT OF A HUMAN BEING TAKES H*ROIN WHEN THEY ARE F****** PREGNANT! There is one rule about what you do with your own life, but there must surely be another when it comes to your own unborn child's life.

I worked it out. My sixth miscarriage (relatively well documented if you happened to want to read about the misery) happened in June 2006 - if that 'baby' that obviously never was had not become another of my miscarriages, it would have been born at roughly the same time as this add*cted baby was born. Where is the justice? I tried EVERYTHING I knew - I'd been to Harley Street, I was injecting heparin, taking steroids, progesterone pessaries, baby aspirin, I was desperate, DESPERATE to make my baby live. But as we know of course, it didn't. Meanwhile some b*tch out there shot up another potentially deadly fix, in spite of her unborn BABY! Even after the poor little mite was born, she went stealing to fund the drugs, drugs were top priority, even though it meant she would lose the right to keep the baby; sure enough, she went back into prison. Her baby taken into the care of the state - never mind the other two children.

There is no justice, I understand that. There is no baby because you did right, because you deserved it. Don't ever think that you had that baby because it was your right, your just reward for being so damn good. I can be good - I can assure you it doesn't work.

And now? Do I plan to be the good person who tries to put this unfortunate baby's life back on track? In spite of all the possible physical, drug-induced problems?

I don't know, I don't know yet.

There is so much more I could say, but it's for another day.

St Patrick's Day

2008-03-17T19:20:00.002Z

I have no affinity with St Patrick's day, but perhaps I will remember it in years to come.

KT was round today - I called her on Saturday to make sure she had received our 'flyer' - she had but needed us to change some bits, and when I called she suddenly said - "I need to see you urgently - can you and R make Monday, 12.30?"

Bonkers is just her middle name. As it happens we are both horrendously busy at work, but what are you going to do? Yep - drop everything and be there.

I wasn't expecting anything exciting, as I had called her. I didn't let myself think it might be 'news'. To be honest, I spent most of my time thinking 'what if they've discovered this blog' and worrying that the 'urgent' meeting was to tell me we had been struck off the potential adopters list for my indiscretions here - ever the optimist, you see. (Thank-you Beagle for the advice - I may well try and do that!)

But . . . there is a possible baby.
13 months, but as yet no adoption order - the court case is on 3rd April. And if the placement order is granted . . . we will almost certainly be matched. We could expect to bring our baby home for the very beginning of May, once we have been introduced etc etc.

2 things:

I am NOT getting excited. I can't. It's too much of a risk.
I would like to know more about the long term effects of having been born add*cted to h*roin. Such was this poor baby's start in life. Can anyone help? I am not having much luck with Dr Google.

A marketing challenge

2008-03-03T22:14:00.002Z

We are going national.
KT came around this morning, as promised.
As expected it was a no-news meeting.
She promises she is on the case, it's just that she is very keen to get us a very healthy child, who is also very young, which means that it will take a little time. And so far has not been long at all. (It just seems like a long time to us, but we are in a different time continuum, I believe.)

There has been some interest in us, no problems.
IF THERE IS ANY PROBLEM AT ALL, IT IS PROBABLY THAT YOU ARE A LITTLE OLDER.
I am surprised you didn't hear my scream from where you are.

I swear, if one more person suggests I am too old for this.

She had two questions that she wanted answers to. (Oops, I thought, here we go).
But they couldn't have been easier -
1. If a child were available at short notice, how soon would you be able to move on it (give up work)?
(A: As soon as you like. No problemo. This is the most important thing in the world to us - why would I let work get in the way?)

2. Have you got any holiday planned?
(A: Yes. We have a cottage booked in the Lakes for a week at the end of March - but hey, we would cancel in a heartbeat if there were the sniff of a child for us . . . we are simply not PLANNING any holiday that we couldn't easily cancel.)

Honestly, sometimes I wonder. Why would I go through years of trying to have a baby, then a not-that-much-fun home study etc etc and then book a holiday that I wasn't prepared to cancel, just when it may all be about to come together? Do I look stupid?

So - back to the main point, which DrSpouse touched on in her comment - having circulated our details around the 'consortium' we are now to make our own 'flyer' to circulate around the whole country. I didn't actually realise that this would be an option.

I work in marketing. Flyers are my bread and butter. I know how to make an emotional appeal, and a nice clear call to action. Supporting my copy with suitable photography.
But this one may be a bit of a challenge.
I don't know my market, my target audience, I don't know what buttons they want pushed.
What the HELL am I going to say?
How do I convince them that R and I are the perfect parents for some child out there?

Hey - wasn't something supposed to HAPPEN in February?

2008-02-28T20:26:00.003Z

Here's the email I wrote to KT last Friday.

Hello KT,

I hope you are well and enjoying the sunny weather (which will probably have turned to rain by the time you get this!)

As yet another friend announces she is pregnant, I thought I would just drop you a line to see how things are going, and let you know we are still here, and still trying to remain positive! R was so convinced something would happen in February, that I am just writing to check really.

Is there any progress at all or anything in the offing?

Would be good to hear from you

Love and best wishes,

Well, I had no reply on email, but was out last night and she called (weird that our SW always calls late in the evenings, can't understand that at all). R took the call and she said she was responding to my email so can she come round Monday 9am.

R agreed, but got no more information out of her, (it was a very short call) and as he didn't have me hissing at him, it is hard to know exactly whether she was cagey or simply businesslike. R says she was 'fairly upbeat' but gave nothing away. Who knows if there was anything to give away.

Isn't this crazy? Second-guessing a telephone call that I was not even present for? Honestly, it's like P-ingOAS a week before you're due.

But different. Obviously.

I am pretty sure it's all something of nothing - she is just responding to my email, and coming round for a catch-up, which will no-doubt be another round of reassuring 'wevenotforgottenyou' noises. Hoo-bloody-ray.

And in the meantime I have been getting quite tense. A sense of impending doom, along with plenty of general gloom is having a pretty good go at enveloping me. I am crying quite easily, but it's not healing, it's just painful.

And there are no fewer than 6 women I know and have regular contact with who are pregnant. Is this fair?

And out to dinner last night I sat next to a good friend (baby due May 6th) and opposite a colleague whose friend had a baby last year. The mother is back in work full time, the child (by all accounts) is turning into a clingy, spoilt brat and I had to listen to a discussion on the subject of 'having it all', staying home or going out to work once kids are on the scene. I must give out a lot of 'I am tough' vibes, because all of the women involved in this discussion KNOW about the adoption plans, and the miscarriages.

Me and my stupid brave face, eh. Roll on Monday - something to really cry about.

If only there were something to tell . . .

2008-02-15T20:01:00.003Z

It's been a long absence, but yes, I am still here.

Still nothing, and getting a bit frustrated. Actually, I saw a friend last week - I only see her maybe three or four times a year, and she was eager to know 'how it was going, how I was feeling' and I struggled to express it. Eventually I said, "I suppose I just don't really believe it is going to happen" and she looked really, really upset for me. And I just shrugged. It all just seems so far away, and I guess if/when there is finally reason to believe it, all the wheels will start turning, and I will be excited, but . . . I don't know. At the moment I have stupid amounts of work, and there have been some decisions that I am not happy with (it's hard to work on a project with your heart and soul, when you believe the project is fundamentally flawed) so I find myself wishing for the phonecall so that I could tell them all to get on with it on their own.

Revenge is not really a valid reason for adoption though, is it. And anyway, whatever reason I have at the moment, it's not going to make any difference.

Our fate (or our child) is not currently on our radar. How is this for Cheerful Thought Of the Week: At this very moment our future child may be undergoing some abuse or neglect at the hands of its 'real' parents. Or sitting in a foster home, awaiting an adoption order. Or just crying in his/her cot, because s/he is hungry and no-one cares enough.

So what does someone waiting to adopt go and see at the movies? Well, Juno of course. Loved it. Yes, really. Just because it is a lovely story, well acted and you change your mind about almost all of the characters in it. And that bit is great, and pretty rare in the movies. I am the worst person I know for having negative first impressions which turn out to be wrong - this film gives you negative and positive first impressions - and most of them turn out to be wrong. Good message. As for all the fuss about adoption law - well, the whole story is about a million miles away from what happens over here anyway, so it didn't really bother me at all. It is fiction, after all.

Dear Dino, thanks for missing me - I wonder if you did email me - the account that this links to is one I hardly ever access these days - but maybe I will go and have a look.

Years go by

2007-12-28T19:00:00.000Z

Christmas 2002
We wrote cute things on our Christmas cards to each other - little hints to say what we wished for the new year. In 03 we got engaged and gave up contraception. We were very excited. A baby - or at least a pregnancy in 2003!

Christmas 2003
Well, we had the pregnancy all right. Following a the shock of miscarrying in November (which I guess I put down to long-haul flights and bad luck) we were pretty sure we would have a baby the next year - the same year we got married. Being 8 months pregnant at the altar wouldn't be ideal - but we'd have lived with it! Perhaps the timing would work out better than that, but we would surely have our child in 2004.

Christmas 2004
2 more miscarriages, but I had a referral to a consultant at the hospital. I believed they would figure out the problem and we would have our child in 2005.

Christmas 2005
MIscarriages in July and October. Having gone from NHS to private clinics (and been written off at initial consultation as past my sell-by) we set ourselves a time limit. Off to Harley Street in the new year, but we had to cap the pain of the repeated losses. But I had long believed that the Harley Street doctor would sort me out. 2006 would see a baby for us at last.

Christmas 2006
We had stopped the efforts. Another miscarriage in June 06 while under the auspices of supposedly the UK RPL expert.
We started the adoption process with a phonecall in August, attended a training course in November, and really hoped that in 2007 we might actually be matched and next Christmas we would have our baby / toddler in 2007. . .

Christmas 2007
Of course, in the event our SW got sick, our approval was therefore delayed till October and then the match we nearly had fell through. A bit of a bruising really.
So still waiting on a match. I have no idea how long this will take, and this Christmas is truly shadowed by my grief and frustration and by feeling so much older. It's hard to believe that this time next year we will be buying presents for our baby / toddler . . . I just can't see it most days.

My apologies for a 'sorry for myself' sort of post especially at this time of year. I haven't given up hope, but I am struggling a bit at the moment. Wishing that all your wishes come true at last too . . . in 2008.