Wow wow wow, what a week! Yesterday we had my niece's 'Coming of Age' 13th birthday celebration - all her family gathered in her garden in a circle to give her their wishes for the future and to guide her under a human arch and through a beautiful arbour her dad had made - the first steps to womanhood. This was incredibly emotional, I can still remember lying my head on my sister's bump 13 years ago and talking to my niece in utero. Now she is this incredibly funny, bright, witty, wise and articulate beauty, and she literally makes my heart surge with love. What an honour it is to witness children growing up. Yesterday felt special because my sister took time to create a ceremony to mark this transition and it gave all of us the chance to stop and reflect and honour this beautiful being.
Today, we met our little boy's social worker for the first time. We'd got up at six am to blitz the house (it was a crazy mess as we'd both made gifts for my niece - R a table and a candleholder and me some knitted wrist warmers and an embroidered shawl - and there was literally stuff EVERYWHERE!) and she arrived with our SW at 9am. She was warm and friendly from the off, and we liked her immediately. We further warmed to her when she made a big fuss of our dog. She seemed to 'get' us, our lifestyle choices, why we have created such a simple life so we can pursue our creative interests. She also understood our choices about living in nature and getting outside every day, and not having TV or other distractions to our time together. We have frequently met with questioning and incredulity about our lifestyle, and it felt so affirming for someone to just understand us in this really compassionate way without us having to explain ourselves 100 times. She understood that we chose this way of life because of how we wanted to bring up our children, and how important it was to us that they had a really hands-on, playful, nurturing, outdoorsy, warm kind of childhood with both of us sharing parenting and plenty of time for reading by the fire, cooking together, growing veg together, going on walks, playing endless games, rockpooling, camping...all the fun things we share with our nieces and have envisaged for our own children. So - WOOO HOOOO - she understands us! Which made us feel buzzy and happy.
Then we watched a video of the little guy. I can't really explain what this felt like. Those of you who've been there will know the enormous and overwhelming rush of love, the tears, the laughter, the urge to reach into the computer screen and just touch - to draw your future child to you. It's an extraordinary experience, like being Tiny Tim and looking in at cosy windows, but with the knowledge that soon this will be the face you wake up to, this will be the gurgling laughter that will light up your lives, this will be the little body you dress and hold close, this little person will grow up with you as mum and dad. I'm still emotional when I think about it. Just seeing him laugh when he's tickled, and playing thoughtfully with his toys and gazing at the camera and pulling at his toes - it made it all so amazingly, mind-blowingly real. His SW let us watch the video several times as she needed to take it away after, but we will get a copy hopefully this week. I can tell we will watch it permanently!
Off to panel on Wednesday...then meeting his foster carers on Friday.
Showing posts with label social worker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label social worker. Show all posts
Monday, 9 July 2012
Thursday, 7 June 2012
The long wait...
Yesterday was a long day. Our SW had called on Friday night about a potential match, and she assured us she would be in touch further to arrange a meeting this week after the longest bank holiday ever! By yesterday morning we were desperate to hear more, trying, and failing, to keep a lid on our excitement. Luckily we had a fashion shoot here at the cottage, with a team of New Yorkers descending with a gold mercedes and a mind-boggling collection of clothes and shoes (have an amusing picture of the dog asleep on a Louis Vuitton clutch surrounded by Jimmy Choos), so that kept us distracted. Nevertheless, between feeding fourteen hungry fashion folks and helping them set up in the rain, we kept the phone near. When the shoot had packed up and gone, it was getting dark. 8pm and still no word from our SW. R had left a message for her, and I'd sent a couple of texts earlier in the day. She'd said she was in a meeting and would call us later. We'd seen her at a local procession over the jubilee weekend and were reminded that for her, we are work, but for us, she holds the key to our future. What a strange balance we have to strike! So I didn't ask her any questions when we bumped in to her as I thought it was important that she has time-off for her family etc.
At 9.30pm we got a text apologising for not being in touch and assuring us she'd call tomorrow. I dropped a couple of stitches in my knitting (making a cardigan for our little one) because I was trying to knit by candlelight and was feeling on tenterhooks! This morning she called. She hasn't been able to get hold of the child's SW yet, so no more news than that she's given us already. She is going to try again today. So again, we are waiting by the phone for news, trying to get a handle on the excitement. No fashion shoot to distract today either! We don't know at the moment if other couples are interested or in line, so we could be getting our hopes up unneccessarily. We're veering between a ridiculously whoop-whoop kind of delight and a nervous kind of fear.
She told us his birth date today and it was a weird thing. In my family we have a long lineage of palendromic birthdays e.g. the fifth day of the fifth month. My grandmother, mother and I all have them. R and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary of meeting on 10/10/10. Our wedding day was 5/5 and two of my bridesmaids have palendromic birthdays. So, when I discovered he too had a palendromic birthday, the same as my late grandmother's, my heart gave a little flutter. I always light a candle on this day to celebrate my grandmother's special day, so unknowingly I was welcoming in a new life too last year. Trying not to be too superstitious about it, but hey, it still feels magic.
At 9.30pm we got a text apologising for not being in touch and assuring us she'd call tomorrow. I dropped a couple of stitches in my knitting (making a cardigan for our little one) because I was trying to knit by candlelight and was feeling on tenterhooks! This morning she called. She hasn't been able to get hold of the child's SW yet, so no more news than that she's given us already. She is going to try again today. So again, we are waiting by the phone for news, trying to get a handle on the excitement. No fashion shoot to distract today either! We don't know at the moment if other couples are interested or in line, so we could be getting our hopes up unneccessarily. We're veering between a ridiculously whoop-whoop kind of delight and a nervous kind of fear.
She told us his birth date today and it was a weird thing. In my family we have a long lineage of palendromic birthdays e.g. the fifth day of the fifth month. My grandmother, mother and I all have them. R and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary of meeting on 10/10/10. Our wedding day was 5/5 and two of my bridesmaids have palendromic birthdays. So, when I discovered he too had a palendromic birthday, the same as my late grandmother's, my heart gave a little flutter. I always light a candle on this day to celebrate my grandmother's special day, so unknowingly I was welcoming in a new life too last year. Trying not to be too superstitious about it, but hey, it still feels magic.
Friday, 18 May 2012
The possibility of fostering
So, our SW came round this lunchtime to talk to us about the kind of children we'd like to adopt. She brought round some more profiles, not of children we could adopt as they'd already been placed, but to give us an idea of the kinds of children they have on the waiting list. I asked for no photos any more else it feels like some kind of dating site, and horrible and weird. She agreed, and had decided no photos anyway. I always feel that I look completely utterly different in photos to how I really am, and photos pack so much punch, so I'd prefer to get to know our child through who they are, rather than what they look like. We discussed the possibility of adopting a child around 6-12 months, as our LA has a lot of children this age to place. We thought this was interesting when we first started with them, as we had imagined we'd adopt an older child. But it seems that information has filtered in, and here we are hoping that's the match we'll get. Our SW talked about 'concurrency' - when a baby is fostered with us from birth with a view to future adoption. It sounded good until we got to the reality that the baby would need to be seeing their birth mum and/or dad regularly - up to 7 times a week - to build an attachment. And that it might turn out that their birth mum gets to keep them, so after 6-12 months of loving and nurturing a child, we'd lose them. Our SW pointed out that often foster carers lose them with the knowledge that they might well be going somewhere that's not entirely safe and quite probably not emotionally stable. Oh lordy, that was too much to contemplate, and the fact we'd have to live with that unknown for the first year of our child's life seemed slightly too terrifying to process. But we haven't ruled it out.
Our SW also asked us 'where we were on not having a birth child'. I guess I'd put the heebie-jeebies up them by talking about babies. It's a difficult one to answer. Where are you ever on the reality of not carrying your own child? It doesn't just go away, and I'm not under any illusions that I'll just wake up one day and feel hunky dorey about it. I understand that they want to know that you have processed at least some of the emotions around it though, to be in a secure place to be able to bring up a child with their own losses to cope with. So I answered honestly and said I just wanted to be a mother and wasn't too hung up now on how that happened. I also have seen so many mothers struggling with newborns - exhausted physically and emotionally and their lives turned upside down - to not have too much of a rosy picture of the perfect newborn. What I hoped I conveyed in my rambling is that R and I have visions of a child still partially in arms, not quite a toddler, so that we have a little bit of that baby time. It has, as I've mentioned, fully surprised me how strong this feeling is for me. And, I noted, for R too, who spoke of carrying our child in a papoose. All these years of researching and writing about attachment parenting make me yearn for some of the key experiences of it: babywearing, bed-sharing, child-led weaning etc.
And then...back full circle to the feeling that we should let expectations go and leap into it with open arms. I lay in bed this morning and silently communicated with our future child...come to us, make yourself known in any way so we can sense that you are coming. I've even wished these last few days that someone - some Divine intervention - would come along and remove all decision making. Like in the old days when you might open your front door and find a baby on the doorstep... There's so much to think about, so much to take into consideration. I honestly, and perhaps stupidly, hadn't predicted this stage at all. But our LA has so many children to place, they want to get the match exactly right, so it makes sense I suppose.
A misty, cold day here today. The horizon is blurred with mist from the sea. We have so many jobs to do around the house before our child moves in, perhaps a wait whilst our SW searches is a good thing.
Our SW also asked us 'where we were on not having a birth child'. I guess I'd put the heebie-jeebies up them by talking about babies. It's a difficult one to answer. Where are you ever on the reality of not carrying your own child? It doesn't just go away, and I'm not under any illusions that I'll just wake up one day and feel hunky dorey about it. I understand that they want to know that you have processed at least some of the emotions around it though, to be in a secure place to be able to bring up a child with their own losses to cope with. So I answered honestly and said I just wanted to be a mother and wasn't too hung up now on how that happened. I also have seen so many mothers struggling with newborns - exhausted physically and emotionally and their lives turned upside down - to not have too much of a rosy picture of the perfect newborn. What I hoped I conveyed in my rambling is that R and I have visions of a child still partially in arms, not quite a toddler, so that we have a little bit of that baby time. It has, as I've mentioned, fully surprised me how strong this feeling is for me. And, I noted, for R too, who spoke of carrying our child in a papoose. All these years of researching and writing about attachment parenting make me yearn for some of the key experiences of it: babywearing, bed-sharing, child-led weaning etc.
And then...back full circle to the feeling that we should let expectations go and leap into it with open arms. I lay in bed this morning and silently communicated with our future child...come to us, make yourself known in any way so we can sense that you are coming. I've even wished these last few days that someone - some Divine intervention - would come along and remove all decision making. Like in the old days when you might open your front door and find a baby on the doorstep... There's so much to think about, so much to take into consideration. I honestly, and perhaps stupidly, hadn't predicted this stage at all. But our LA has so many children to place, they want to get the match exactly right, so it makes sense I suppose.
A misty, cold day here today. The horizon is blurred with mist from the sea. We have so many jobs to do around the house before our child moves in, perhaps a wait whilst our SW searches is a good thing.
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
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.
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.
Monday, 14 May 2012
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...
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...
Thursday, 10 May 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
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:
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.
Tuesday, 24 January 2012
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.
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.
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