Yes, I'm ready for motherhood

Yesterday, after talking about where we were at with the adoption, a friend turned to me and said: 'So you could be a mother in a few months?' to which I replied, yes, that looks like the way things are going. And then he asked me a question that floored me:

'And are you really ready, I mean, ready to be a mother?'

I bluffed my answer, as I always do when put on the spot, mumbling something about workshops and reading and all the cerebral stuff that isn't really parenting at all. And then I went away and thought about it....for a long time.

There's a particularly pernicious assumption that pregnancy is the only initiation to parenthood, that by growing a child within you, you gain access to a secret world of motherhood that outsiders cannot enter. I would have to say I think this is a fallacy. Over the years of supporting pregnant women, I have urged many, many clients to consider more than what colour they are going to paint the nursery or whether their new Bugaboo will fit up the stairs. I have written articles on the spiritual transitions we make in our lives, parenthood being one of the biggest, and how we need time to reflect and rituals that validate these. I have written about keeping a journal, spending time in nature connecting with the elements, creating rituals that both challenge and expand our understanding and consciousness. Over the years, I have been saddened that we live in such a capitalist culture we've lost sight of the sacred, the journeys and paths we forge through life, the challenges we overcome, and the way everything can be magic if we choose to make it so. In fact, one of the reasons I became so jaded in my work with pregnant women was because I just got tired of hearing about the fact the extension wouldn't be finished on the house in time, the nursery a couple wanted to send their unborn child to was already getting booked up, they had to buy a new car/kitchen/bigger pair of jeans...

Conversation with each new couple seemed to be increasingly devoid of the real questions of parenting: will my child be happy? how can I support their spiritual and emotional growth? what challenges will having a child put on our relationship and how can I prepare for that? what are the best foods I can feed my child? what steps can I take to ensure that I get the support I need? who will I want to be a mentor for my child? what values do I want my child to grow up with? how can I make time to adjust to the enormous changes new parenthood brings? what will be the effect on my lifestyle/friendships/daily activities and am I ready to make those changes? will my heart explode with this new capacity for love? will society support me in my new life as a parent? or will I find myself marginalised, suddenly less important than I was as a worker bee? who am I and what kind of a parent will I be?

Now, I could be wrong, but most people I know who come to adoption do so after trying for their own biological children. (This assumption was, however, challenged in our adoption workshops when 4 of the 8 couples already had birth children and wanted to adopt for altruistic reasons, but on the whole, I think this situation is rarer than the former.) With any number of medical interventions now being touted as a miraculous way of cheating nature - from IVF to surrogacy - these years of fertility treatment can stretch endlessly. During this time, couples are faced with some of the biggest challenges of their lives. Unable to fulfil their most basic, primal need - to procreate - they battle with an increasing sense of their own failure. This either brings couples together or it pushes them apart. Those that make it through this first set of lion’s jaws, and come out battered, bruised but still clutching each other’s hands, are ready for the next set.
In between this, there is the endless barrage of (sometime well-meaning but sometimes not) conversations, everywhere from the dinner party to the water cooler:

“When are you two going to hurry up and have children?”
“God, you’re sensible putting it off, things are just so stressful with kids.”
“I guess you’re putting your career first.” (Thanks Daily Mail)
“I know a couple who tried for years and then got pregnant when they went on holiday/relaxed/started the adoption process/gave up work/moved house/took up swimming/ate more nuts…” (you know the bag - delete as appropriate)

Couples that survive this tend to get tougher skins, are more able to laugh at themselves and learn, over time, to let the little things go. They become resilient, amazingly so, and ready to face the next challenge.
Then the adoption process starts, and they are subjected to a level of intrusion no ordinary parent would expect to undergo. Are we suitable parents? Why? In what ways? Doesn’t this, that or the other from our past stand against us? No? Prove it. On and on, the searching, scraping, digging away at our pasts and what has brought us to where we are today. Not for the faint-hearted but certainly something that helps us grow in other ways than just a pregnant belly. How do we parent a child with unique needs, with a chequered past? What might those needs be? What skills will we bring to the table? How do we cope with the fact our child will not be our biological child, but a unique individual with a unique identity?

We explore, we excavate, we reflect, we question. We wonder at the parenting we received. We wonder who we are, why we are the way we are. We dig to the very depths of our souls. And we come out of it with a stronger sense of self. Maybe a little battered and bruised in places but with a better understanding of how to deal with batterings and bruisings.

There are the practical sides of parenting: the feeding, routines, nappy-changes, night-time disturbances and soothing, that most of us will have to learn and make up as we go along, but what parent doesn’t?  There’s no rule book for that stuff and an adoptive parent, like a biological one, will have to rely heavily on instinct.

So, in answer to the question (and I know this is a long answer!), I would say: YES. A resounding YES. I would even go so far as to say that as an adoptive mother, I am even better equipped to parent than my biological neighbour.

For all adoptive parents out there, don’t forget that you have the skills, the knowledge, the intuition and the incredible capacity for love that are requisites for parenting, however convoluted your journey is to get there.
Thank you for reading. Now I can step down off my soap-box ;)

The top ten things I can do because I'm not pregnant!

Over the years of trying to conceive, and then choosing adoption, it is easy to focus on the negatives. In fact, our SW asked us the other day 'where we were on not having our own kids'. Not an easy question to answer, but interestingly, we'd just come back from a happy and relaxed week away with my pregnant friend and felt pretty chilled about the whole thing. I've spent most of my working life either researching pregnancy and birth, or supporting pregnant and birthing women and new mums. It's not without a sense of irony that I glance up at bookshelves heaving with books on natural birth and breastfeeding (though I've now, with a sense of release, donated these to my pregnant friend). However, adoption it is, so I see no point in dwelling on what might have been. This morning at my yoga class, I was suddenly struck by all the things I could do that pregnant women can't, such as:

1). Get really physically fit for motherhood. No struggling with a post-birth body that's stretched and torn and tired, and with leaky and aching breasts. In fact, I can enjoy my runs and bend in all sorts of complicated poses in yoga with a sense of freedom.
2). Share feeds with my husband. We've discussed shifts in the night, and taking it in turns throughout the day. Whilst breastfeeding is something I am passionate about, I can still see the benefits of not having to deal with sore and swollen breasts, constant feeding, mastitis, cracked nipples, or feeling like a milk machine. This is purely selfish as I know that breast milk is the best food for babies, but hey, today I'm looking at the positives!
3). Be able to travel where I want, when I want. Not that I'm thinking of jetting off to Barbados (but can I, Mr Bank Manager, please?!) but the fact I can if I want to, right up to until the 'due date' feels good.
4). Eat whatever I want. Soft cheeses and sushi anyone?
5). Not be beholden to the swing and sway of my hormones. As women, we are biologically programmed to release certain hormones at certain points in our lives, and new motherhood is when we are awash with them to help us bond, feed and connect with our babies. So I'm hoping that those good hormones will kick in (I've read that they're released simply by being around a baby) but of course I won't be entirely governed by them in the run up, fractious, tearful and unable to think clearly.
6). I can work however and whenever I like. I work from home so my hours are flexible anyway, but the fact I'm not sitting at my desk with fluid retention and an aching back is surely a bonus.
7). No physical pregnancy strain. Old back problems not triggered by carrying a bump around. No fluid retention, morning sickness, back ache, pelvic pain, urinary problems, aching joints, stretch marks etc. etc. Of course, I know not every pregnant woman suffers from these things but through my work, I've seen quite a few who do!
8). Sleep as much as I possibly can right up until the 'due date'. No tossing and turning trying to get comfortable or getting up 100 times in the night to have a wee. No night-time frets about the birth.
9). Though I was actually looking forward to giving birth, for the sake of my new perspective, I'll add in that I don't have to make birth plans, worry that caregivers won't stick to them, worry that some unforeseen circumstances will unravel everything I'd hoped for, or fret about medical complications. I believe in healthy birth but you know, at least I don't have to worry that I'd have to eat my words and the last decade of saying that!
10). Celebrate our panel day and other summer festivities with a few drinks. Not that I'm much of a drinker, but I can if I want to! So I might plan a night out with friends after panel and get a bit tiddly just because, well, I can!

So there are my top ten reasons why I'm pleased to be adopting and not pregnant right now - the silver lining to our situation...

Adoption then and now

Just back from a lovely five days staying with our friend in the countryside. Lots of walks and sitting in the sun and eating and chatting. She's seven months pregnant so beginning to wind things down a bit now. This made me think that I could be the equivalent of seven months pregnant, in that our child will potentially be coming to live with us September time, maybe earlier (eeek! woah! wow!). I have always urged my pregnant clients to wind things down and enjoy the peaceful and reflective time pre-life-change-new-baby, and I thought to myself that I ought to heed my own advice, despite the fact I'll have no bump to lug about as an excuse. So I am planning a little time out, some reflection, maybe a weekend away, maybe a massage or two. We'll see whether I manage to put it into practice.

My friend is adopted herself, now in her thirties, and we talked a lot about adoption then and now. She was surprised at the level of interaction with the birth family these days, but we all talked about why this was a good thing for the child. In her day, it was 'wait until you're 18 and then you can find out more'. She didn't seem to have a problem with this, and actually decided against trying to find her birth mother (for multiple reasons too complex and personal to go into here), but I expressed my concerns that this approach only exacerbates an adoptive child's sense of dislocation and lack of identity - or does it? She didn't feel it did. It was good for us to listen, without judgement, to the real experiences of someone adopted who is now an adult. Interesting to remember that every child is different and what works for one in terms of contact may not work for another. For that we're very blessed to have an excellent, friendly and approachable contact team through our LA, who assess the relevance and enjoyment of contact annually throughout a child's life. If there's ever a time when we think it's too much for our child to manage, they can help us have a rethink. Another one of the benefits of having a great LA where everything is in-house, there's a small team, and you get to know everyone pretty quickly.

It seems another difference of adoption thirty-plus years ago is how important preparation is for adoptive parents now. The idea of a child being given to a childless couple - the parent-centred approach - has now moved much more to the child-centred approach where the wellbeing and happiness of the child is paramount (as it should be). Because of this, of course, potential adoptive parents are recquired to think long and hard about themselves, what they need to grieve before they can effectively parent a grieving child, and the kinds of fears, challenges and difficulties a child might face. In my friend's day, it was more of a case of aiming to forget the past (for both child and parent) by creating a new family. Can this work? In my friend's case, she has a very strong and loving family unit, bonded by deep respect and common interests. There are sadnesses there and unresolved stories but isn't this true of all families?

I'm being careful here because what I would never want to say is that my friend's parents got it wrong. They have brought up a beautiful, heart-centred, generous, funny, wise and compassionate daughter, despite tumultuous teen years. They were also products of their time, adopting a child when it was considered normal to forget the past and move forward. But it also made me feel very grateful to be becoming an adoptive parent when there is so much literature available on supporting adoptive children, when we have the internet at our fingertips, when there are adoption blogs to read, when local authorities provide workshops to enable each adoptive parent to think very deeply about what their role is - not just when their child is a toddler, but when they're a teenager trying to form relationships.

Amidst all this thinking and talking with my friend we watched a TV programme called Long Lost Family which, as the name suggests, sets out to reunite people with lost members of their family. The episode we watched included a woman given up for adoption looking for her birth mum, and an adopted woman looking for her birth sister. It was pretty emotional stuff and my friend and I talked again about her looking for her birth mum. Adoption these days removes the unknown from the equation - the constant nagging wondering of old-school adoption - by keeping a level of contact. I guess in a generation or so's time, there'll be no need for programmes like Long Lost Family. Lots to think about.

Making sense of it all

Feeling much better these last two days. Had a really good chat with my friend's adoptive mum - she used to sit on panel and said that it really was important for couples to be clear about what they wanted. I guess I'm just surprised by how much I want a child under two, it hadn't really seemed like a major thing before (and a part of me is disappointed in myself for being so predictable). The last eight years I've been supporting pregnant women and new mums, so I suppose some of that had filtered in, and I realised the other day just what it was I'd be missing out on. We're still not actually decided, and we have the details of the gorgeous little 15month year old - B I'll call him - by our bed. We look at him often and talk about what life might be like with him, and I feel who knows what the future holds. I am becoming aware of this stage of the process throwing up a lot more than any other part has done so far - now it's all becoming real, we're confronting new and different parts of ourselves, our needs, our dreams. And, I now see, parts of us that aren't 'perfect', parts of us that don't just say 'yes, we'll definitely take that child because they need a home'. That frightens me, but also makes a kind of sense. Anyone who has been through infertility will know how ludicrous it feels to be offered a child, any child, and have to think twice. Sometimes I think we're being ridiculous, petty, selfish. Other times I think I want this to be right for all of us.

Our social worker is coming on Friday to talk through things further with us, and show us some of the profiles of the many children under one they have on their books. If B doesn't come to live us, she assures us that there are other potential adopters who they're looking at as matches for him, which helps. I don't have to beat myself every night with the thought that if we don't adopt him, he'll spend his life in care, though that is the truth for something like 1 in 4 children currently in care. What a strange rollercoaster this part is. I'm tightening up my seatbelt a bit these last few days, taking a few very very deep breaths. We'll get there.

Guilty

Oh shit. Just had to hide in the loo to have a cry. I'm not a crying kind of person really. But I suddenly feel so gut-wrenchingly, sick-makingly, horribly, hatefully guilty about my ambivalent feelings. What a terrible process this 'choosing' is, I'd never really considered that it might be like this. I thought it would all happen perfectly, that the right child would just be there, like that. And maybe this little boy is the right child, and I'll have it on my conscience for the rest of our life together that I initially felt ambivalent. R came home and was delighted and happy, and I just felt such a gloom merchant expressing my concerns, which is why I slipped away for a cry.

Because I wasn't really expecting to be like this, to be the one who researched on the computer and worried about health issues, who got the baby books out and mourned for the things we might miss adopting an older child, who just generally didn't leap up and shout from the rooftops how excited I was. The thing is, everyone else is excited and keeps asking us how we feel and I keep saying 'excited' because I was and am, but now I also just feel horrible and nasty and guilty. Who knew it would be this complicated? Who knew that after all these years of wanting so desperately to be a mother, of wanting it with every cell of my being, I would get so muddled at this stage. I don't want to have to 'choose' my child.

Our child?

A mixed bag of feelings today. Our social worker and her colleague came over to do my 'Adult Attachment Interview' - basically a set of questions which assesses how I 'attach' to other people based on my early experiences. I had a sense I was being sacharrine sweet, but there really was nothing bad I could say about my early years. I was lucky enough to be born into a loving family and felt fully supported and loved by my mum, dad, sister and, later, brother. It's a good thing really, I wouldn't want them to go away thinking 'lord, we've got a right one here'. And R and I learnt early on not to treat any line of questioning as a kind of therapy, because it all comes back and nips you on the bum. Not least because a lot of what we've said in all our meetings has been recorded on a dictaphone and will, as our social worker told us, be repeated back to us verbatim at panel. Later on, in my teens, things got a little more complex but they've already covered that in great detail (trying to come up with reasons why you behaved a certain way or did a certain thing in your teens feels nigh-on impossible - as our friend going through the same process said, does 'I was young and stupid' count?).

The real news is that our social worker brought a photo and some information about the little boy they have in mind for us. It's amazing that it's suddenly real. I looked at his face and was surprised that I didn't immediately go 'that's my son', but I suppose I shouldn't have expected that. I just keep picking up the picture - and now I have it beside me at the computer - and saying 'hello', trying to get a feel for him. My heart is gradually coming round to the fact he might be our little boy. It's an old photo, he's about 15 months now, and he's smiling, cheeky chappy. There's signs of foetal alcohol syndrome, which we knew about, although so far he's developing well and the paedetrician is pleased with his progress. I guess I expected to know instantly or something. But I've read elsewhere that it's a slow burn, a slow learn and growth, this way of becoming parents. R is on his way home now and I can't wait to share it all with him, to sit here and talk about how it all feels. Here he is now...

Excited and suddenly nervous

Our social worker was talking to us about the different ages of kids we might like to adopt. For a long time we said we didn't mind, we just wanted kids, but they urged us to narrow it down, so now we've said under 2. She was talking to us yesterday about a one year old she had in mind. My heart skipped a beat. Suddenly things seem real, tangible. I went for a walk with the dog and ended up talking to our future child (the couple coming the other way on the footpath looked at me like I had lost my marbles), imagining what it would be like to be with them. So close...they already exist. Then, last night, I suddenly felt nervous. R is away in France and I'm here alone this week. The pure isolation and solitude of the place naturally lends itself to musing. And muse I did.

I realised I know nothing about what one year old children are like. Yes, we have lots of godchildren, I've been there the whole time as my nieces have grown up, and I've watched my friends' children grow from babies to teens...and yet, call me a dunce but it just dawned on me last night that I'm not really sure what one year olds can do...can they walk? Talk? I even found myself late-night Googling what a one year old looks like. It seems I've spent so much of the last eight years looking after pregnant women and their tiny newborns, I hadn't really given much thought to post 12 months. And here I am about to become (possibly) a mother to one. And, having found out the kind of things a child that age might be doing, it also dawned on me that we won't hear our child's first word, or see them start to crawl or even begin to totter about. I felt like a fool that I hadn't even really properly thought about that. I mean, I'd thought about that, but not quite let it slip under my skin, if you know what I mean...

My sister, always one to calm my nerves and uplift me, sent me off from hers today with a pile of baby books up to toddler and aged three. I'd scanned my bookshelves last night and found about 50 books on natural pregnancy and birth, but none on child development. Yesterday I felt a bit wobbly. I feel calmer today. R is back tomorrow and we will start reading up on what it's like to parent a one or two year old.

It's good, it's exciting. it's becoming real. I knitted a pair of booties in blue wool yesterday. I might knit some in pink tomorrow.

Adoption panel date booked for the summer

Suddenly seized with an overpowering urge to BLOG! Now that's a new one. I've spent the day 'writing' (read 'procrastinating') and trying to cajole myself into switching off the pesky internet. It wastes more of my time than I can say. Today I have been researching Edwardian living for a novel I'm working on, so it has actually proved useful. No, seriously, watching someone recreate an Edwardian hair-do on Youtube is research. R is in France with work so I am home alone with the kitties and the dog and just about to jump into bed with a big pile of books.

I just wanted to update where we're at with the adoption. We have the most incredible team, and they have whistled us - in a most light-hearted and joyful way - through the process. Our social worker is fun and kind, and the three of us are often in fits of giggles about one thing or another. This was a surprise - all the literature prepared us for some painful knuckling down with the sense that it-would-be-worth-it-in-the-end. But our experience hasn't been like that. Okay, it wasn't always easy to rehash our pasts and pick apart the reasons we behaved certain ways, and both of us found the medical checks intrusive but that's because neither of us have been to a doctor in nearly a decade and felt pretty poked around and patronised (I was told I had a heart murmur - three months of stress later, after a meeting with a very kind cardiologist, I'm told there was a mistake and I'm actually A.O.K. That was after they got my notes mixed up with someone who was on serious prescription drugs. It wasn't the best part of the process.).

But the adoption team themselves have been helpful and interested and kind, and just generally very keen for us to become parents. After much deliberation (we still haven't officially decided) we're thinking of adopting just one child, rather than siblings. Our social worker has some children in mind, and as soon as we come out of panel she will give us their paperwork. That's in July. So we could be mama and papa by autumn time, or maybe even earlier. This gives my whole life a certain dream-like quality. It's like being pregnant without the actual pregnancy, without any idea when the due date will be, what age our child will be (under 2 though).... If I were pregnant, I would be winding things up at work by summer time, but we're working right up until the wire because we don't actually know where the wire is! It's extraordinary and strange and sometimes I wake up and think it's all a dream. The idea that by some miraculous intervention, after all this time, I will hold a child in my arms and say 'Mummy loves you' just strikes me as truly remarkable and not quite, well, real...

Here's something I read the other day that made my heart soar. I felt it was somehow written for R and I. My sister wrote this out in her best script for my mum and I remember it in our childhood kitchen. It's from Kahlil Gibran's 'The Prophet' - On Children:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might

that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

We had our first adoption workshops last week, on Monday and Tuesday. Alongside eight other couples, we learnt about the kind of kids that need adopting, listened to some shocking case studies and found out ways in which we can parent children who have been through more in their short time here than most of us will go through in a lifetime. It was certainly food for thought.

Interestingly, half the couples already had children and two of those had chosen adoption for truly altruistic reasons. The rest of us had tried, and failed, to make biological families and were trying our luck with a different approach. There were some interesting people there - some I know will remain firm friends as our children grow, and some I felt we were singing from different parenting songsheets. My parenting choices and interest has always been in attachment parenting and I have reams of literature on the subject and have written about it for years. It's a whole new thing thinking about the different challenges adopted children face - the level of loss and trauma they have experienced - and how to parent them with love and consciousness through that. Sometimes it feels like it'll be a superhuman achievement and sometimes I think that staying present, staying aware and loving will guide us all along. A social worker said somewhere near the beginning of our process 'choose your battles wisely' and it seems to ring so true. When I imagine the scenarios we might be faced with as parents, I keep thinking of not sweating the small stuff and finding ways for our future kids to express the big stuff.

Both R and I had been slightly dreading the workshops. We'd been told that they would be hard work and harrowing, and whilst they certainly didn't hold back any punches in terms of the realities of these children's lives, both days left us feeling inspired and uplifted. It further cemented that this is something we want to do, even need to do. We've discussed several times what would happen if I got pregnant suddenly now. We'd be overjoyed, yes, but part of me feels we've embarked on this for a reason. Another part of me already feels like I'd be letting down a child whose life we have the opportunity to change. I keep thinking of 'parenting the child who hurts' as they call it, and my heart bursts with love...I feel overwhelmed with how much I want to hold this child who might already be in existance somewhere. It's almost impossible to explain, so I'll leave it at that.

It seems it might all happen much sooner than the doom merchants have lead us to believe (everyone, from co-workers to friends - even if they know nothing about adoption whatsoever - has felt the need to say to us 'well, it'll be a long, hard haul. It'll take ages' when we've told them of our adoption plan). The social worker believes we might go to panel by the summer holidays. This is crazily, almost unbelievably exciting...we might be parents at Christmas.

Yesterday, I learnt that one of my closest friends is pregnant, a complete surprise. I was bowled over when I read her email (she's overseas at the moment), crying tears of joy and shock and delight. She will be the best mother in the world, I genuinely don't know anyone who operates so fully from the heart. I felt almost as if I was pregnant, that's how close we are, and I know we will share the journey together. After I'd emailed her my happy response, I had some time to reflect last night. Will it be strange her going through pregnancy and me going through home study simultaneously? Will I find it difficult to cope emotionally? I'd offered my support and love to her wholeheartedly - and at the time I truly felt I was able to give that - but last night I retreated back into my snail shell a little and wondered about how it might all feel. Well, I guess we will find out! And there's no escaping the reality of it, so I will have to take great care to listen to my heart and allow myself time out if it becomes too much. Noone deserves the joy of parenthood more than my friend does, and there's a joy in the fact that we'll be parenting alongside one another - different situations, but ultimately the same goal, to mother with love and conscience.

Our new house and new plans!

It's been so long since I wrote a post on here I toyed with not doing it at all. But I was reading my friend's new blog about bringing her adorable new daughter home from hospital and it reminded me how much I got out of writing my own blog. I started a few others over the last year but it was this one that provided an outlet for my feelings on all the ups and downs of the past five years. So I'm back!!

R and I have moved to the most incredible house... perched on a cliff with panoramic views of the sea. Truly an incredible place to wake up every day and we thank our lucky stars. It's not an easy kind of life - we don't have mains electricity so rely on sporadic wind and solar power and hundreds upon hundreds of candles! Which is rather romantic actually. And we don't have mains heating or hot water so we rely on a big old-fashioned coal-powered range and wood burner and freeze the rest of the time! When we wake in the morning, the cold takes your breath away. But then you go through to the kitchen and there's the sea, majestic and vast and too incredible for words. In stormy weather (of which there's been rather a lot lately!) the waves go up and over the house, and thump up against the sea wall, making the foundations of the house shake. It is truly elemental and like nothing I've ever experienced before. So the change in our lives has been extraordinary, and unexpected, and fun. And wow, the sense of space after living on a boat! Here we have so much room to spread out. We also have a spare bedroom which leads me on to my next piece of news...

We've - finally - started the adoption process! We attempted to start it last year just as we were moving onto the boat but were dropped like hot potatoes by our local authority when they found out about our new living arrangements. So, when we moved here in August, we got in touch with a new adoption agency and they conducted their first home study. We were nervous about what they would say about the house but they seemed confident we could make it a special place for a child to grow up. It's a slow process -we first got in touch in August and it took them until October to offer us a place on an introductory meeting. Then the first home visit, when we frantically cleaned and put up photos everywhere of us being super aunty and uncle with our nieces and godchildren! After this meeting, they told us we would have to wait until Jan for the next adoption workshops to start and we were despondant and low after that. It took it out of us a bit, all the probing and questioning and the sense that, basically, they were looking for the stuff that was 'wrong' rather than what was right, going through our whole life histories up to this point and pulling apart episodes from tumultuous teen years. But I know we have to be prepared for that as that meeting was only the beginning and the home study will go in much deeper. And, shortly after, we received the initial meeting write-up which we had to check and send back and we were really touched by all the little things the social worker noticed about us as a couple and who we were. Yes, there's some big stuff from our pasts but they did temper it with all the things we have done since then and how close we are etc. We were ridiculously excited to get the report and have been so since then. It really feels like it's happening now and I have this crazy wild idea that I can't shake that somehow 2012 will be our year. Imagining being a parent this time next year, and preparing for Christmas, sends me into frenzies of excitement!

We're well aware that it won't neccessarily be an easy ride - they said to us that they're not just looking for parents, 'but special parents' and there are all the reasons why children need to be adopted - the abuse, neglect, drug problems etc. And then there's the interaction with the birth families and how that might feel, for both us and our child. But nonetheless, I feel like this will be the most wonderful journey and we will relish being parents so much after the ups and downs to get here - what an incredible blessing it will be when we finally get to bring our child home! My best friend is adopted and she sent me the most wonderful email from Africa, where she works running a children's hostel. This is a little bit of it that made my heart feel full:

'Even though that might seem very scary for you, I also know that you and R convey a strength that I don't think I see in anyone but my parents. Your relationship is built on an energy that reaches out to all around you. I'm in awe of the life you have made for yourselves, it's so intoxicating and full of happiness and health, in more ways that one. I don't just mean 'health' in its most obvious form, but god the laughter and the knowing-ness that you guys know whatever happens things will work out well. That's also health, a healthy approach to life. Your extended family too, will be a huge contribution to the whole decision and process. I love the connection you all have, and others see this too, just show them a few family videos! They will support this whole process and what joy it will bring everyone! I don't remember myself but I'm often told of what a joyous time it was when I suddenly arrived, so wanted, for all around my family it was apparently a time of huge happiness. You deserve this, and you'll make the most wonderful mum! O my gosh! Can I have some of that please! Your entire approach to life will rub off on those little souls, as it does to all around you, and they will bathe in that like happy little growing pockets of joy.'

On that beautiful note from a dear and special friend I'll end this post. I hope you're all doing well whatever is happening in your respective lives. I think I'll catch up on some of your blogs now! I'll keep you updated as we go along...watch this space!