tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8952268430861019862024-03-05T02:26:44.461-08:00Positive about adoptionHelenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-35415098283481822592013-09-12T11:05:00.001-07:002013-09-12T11:05:13.832-07:00The Positivity of PanelPanel. A word that sends a shiver through many prospective adopters. It's where you find out your adoption fate and it feels like the most important day of your life. That might be a bold sentence but it's how I remember feeling about it. These days I'm a panel member and have been for almost 4 years. Every time I think I'm ready to give up all the reading and stand down from my position as 'Adoptive Parent', I go to a panel that pulls me back in.<br />
<br />
Today was that panel. It was a long day. We had 7 items and we consider each of them very carefully, which can take some time. Today we had a couple returning to adopt the full sibling of the child they adopted a few years ago. I was there for that panel and again for this one. Hearing about how happy they are to be parents to their little girl and how excited they are to expand their family with her baby brother was incredible. What an amazing thing to witness. We approved several other couples and some matches, all of which made me feel proud to play a very small part in these people's lives. I often sit there with tears in my eyes as the people in front of us tell us how much they want to be parents and why they feel the match is the right child or children for them. Panel can be very powerful.<br />
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I know that it can be a terrifying experience for prospective adopters, whether it's to become approved or matched. I know. I've done it. Scroll through my earlier blogs to see how my partner and I had an almighty blazing row just an hour before our approval panel. Because I've been there I always make sure I give adopters an encouraging smile when I say my name in introductions. You get the news of the panel's decision shortly after coming out of the meeting and the people sitting around that table want you to feel relaxed and to do well. Try and remember that.<br />
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If you ever get the chance to sit on an adoption panel, I say give it a try. Every month when the massive bundle of papers arrive I curse a bit under my breath. When I start reading and see how many papers I still have to go the curses sometimes get a bit louder. It can be tough and the reading can be very upsetting, but when you see a looked after child matched with their forever family and you just know they're going to have a wonderful life together you feel so darn good.<br />
<br />
So, just as I was about to say to the Chair that I think I've done a good 4 years and I would like to bow out, now I might just do it for another few months. It's hard work and there is a LOT of reading but you just can't measure how brilliant it feels when a couple or single adopter walks out of the room knowing they are soon going to be a parent. That bit, I love. The reading? Not so much.<br />
<br />
<br />Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-51048100951476518102013-01-03T11:31:00.001-08:002013-01-03T11:45:17.115-08:00Shameless, 'It's not about adoption but I've got a new book out' related blog post<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hello again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I hope you've enjoyed my blog up to now. I love writing them. I'm a writer by profession, actually, so I want to take this opportunity to tell you about my new children's book. Even though it's not based on my adoption experiences, it was inspired by my son who we've discovered is mildly dyslexic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I wrote it because we discovered t<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">here is a leap in children’s books where they go from cute picture books straight into chunky reads like Mr Gum and Diary of a Wimpy Kid. These books are brilliant, but the fact they're a full pages of text makes that leap a bit too much for some children. Children like my son who used to throw books across the room in frustration because he couldn’t keep up with his peers. He needed something in between. I was trying to think about what I could do to help him and this is when I had a light bulb moment.</span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After having my bright idea, I took my laptop to a local café, J.K. Rowling style, and started to write a story. By day, I’m a freelance advertising copywriter, so I’m used to working with words. I wrote the story as if it were a play, the idea being that you choose characters and only read their lines as they come up with the more confident reader taking the part of the narrator. This way, you share the reading with your children so it’s altogether less intimidating for them. You can put on funny voices if you like and have a bit of fun with it.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The stories are written so that they take around 15 minutes to read from start to finish and they can enjoy a satisfying conclusion before their head hits the pillow. This stops the need to turn the corner of the book down and the next night pick up again where you left off, if your son or daughter hasn’t hidden the book. I doubt we’ll ever know what happens at the end of The Machine Gunner in our house, it’s long gone.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, The Spaceship Saga and Other Stories is out soon. It sits perfectly next to Horrid Henry, Mr Gum, Mr Stink and Harry Potter on the shelf and it has five short stories suitable for boys and girls alike. Reading this way is much more fun and a lot less scary for struggling readers. All the stories are tried and tested on my own two children and they’ve assured me they love them, and I don’t think it’s just so they got their pocket money, at least that’s what they tell me. Buy the book and see for yourself. I hope you like it.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You can buy it from <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Spaceship-Saga-Other-Stories/dp/1780993579/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1352201068&sr=8-1">Amazon</a> here or, if you prefer, from <a href="http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/products/helen+lawson/the+spaceship+saga+and+other+stories/9500735/">Waterstones</a> here. If you want to find out more about it or contact me, go to my little website here, <a href="http://www.readaplay.com/">Read a Play</a></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #333333; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you like it, please spread the word. Thanks for reading! </span></div>
Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-24119161647205283942012-12-14T03:18:00.002-08:002012-12-14T03:18:34.960-08:00Christmas. It’s what (naturally formed over time) memories are made of.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqCbEmVXO7JJNcRbCQUT7kcZVAoEXzlulgx8F09ib_dWMIJBeqpViTckeWItlsjd070OEqdk7IrXJ5EKNlHtjHzZPTruTLHISY0P3VxKj93PzMv5zgaBJdyUiuMEJJ4PVcHpqKKvJsMs/s1600/tree+fairy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAqCbEmVXO7JJNcRbCQUT7kcZVAoEXzlulgx8F09ib_dWMIJBeqpViTckeWItlsjd070OEqdk7IrXJ5EKNlHtjHzZPTruTLHISY0P3VxKj93PzMv5zgaBJdyUiuMEJJ4PVcHpqKKvJsMs/s320/tree+fairy.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">This will be our 4<sup>th</sup> Christmas
with our two children and already it feels like it will be the loveliest yet.
You might have read on my previous Christmas blog about how I force fed people
Christmas music from 4am and we all argued and cried and refused to eat and
injured each other with toy guns. Well, we’ve come a long way since then.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The problem all those years ago was that I
was so keen for us to ‘make memories’. Hearing all the lovely stories from
other mums in the playground about their traditions, new pyjamas on Christmas
Eve, all opening stockings in the parent’s bedroom, the family walk etc. It
made me really envious. I know how daft that sounds now but our children were 4
and 5 when they joined our family and I felt like I had lost time to make up
for. We didn’t have any traditions. I put a satsuma in their stocking, like I
used to get, and they looked at me like I was crazy. Fruit. For Christmas? Who
is this mad woman we are calling mum?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The first Christmas was really hard. The
second was better but still quite an intense day as I had insisted it should be
just the four of us. We have grandparents and uncles and aunties over now and
it makes the day so much more pleasant. Easier, even, because they can
entertain the children while I cook and test the wine. After the big lunch the
children have started entertaining us by putting on sketch shows and singing.
It’s like a scene from the Scrooge’s nephew’s house. This is the type of Christmas
I always wanted and it came to us naturally. Once I calmed down a bit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Putting up the tree this year was also the
loveliest time yet. I got the decorations out of the loft and there are now 4
years worth of memories in that box. Baubles they made in Reception, the
cardboard fairy that’s past it’s best but so cute we use it every year, the
ridiculous reindeer head doorbell that makes me think someone is at the door
every time I look at it. We’ve finally done it. We got there. We have our own
family Christmas traditions without me copying other peoples or forcing new
ones upon us all. I can’t explain this any other way. It just feels like
Christmas has clicked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">My obsession with memory creation doesn’t
just apply to Christmas. I’ve always been keen for us to have stories to tell
about things we’ve done together. We’ve got plenty of them stacked up now. The
time the dog dragged mummy S down the side of a hill as his lead was tucked
under her chair and he saw a squirrel. The time the three of them nearly fell
into a fishpond because I asked them to step back so I could take a photo. The
time we did an open top bus tour during a thunderstorm. All of these memories
take time to create and I know that now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">So, if you’re a newly adoptive parent or if
you’re thinking about adoption as an option, think on. It’s not unusual, I
hope, to want these special times to mean something to you and your family just
don’t worry about <i>making</i> magical
memories. They come to you as you live your lives together and they are worth
waiting for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-55251191140266373622012-08-26T01:51:00.000-07:002012-08-26T01:51:00.134-07:00A Daily Mail story I do approve ofTake a look at this. I was asked to do an interview with The Mail on Sunday, and though slightly suspicious of their angle at first I was really pleased with the outcome. I believe it's important to speak out about positive and successful stories, not just of adoption, but of gay parents.<br />
<br />
I'd love to know what you think.<br />
<br />
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2193675/Dont-worry-little-Zachary-Elton-We-gay-parents-like-children-fine.html#<br />
<br />
<br />Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-2792120939928829142012-05-21T07:04:00.001-07:002012-05-21T07:04:17.554-07:00They're moving in!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On one of our frequent visits to our local
park recently I saw a friend with her newly adopted two-year-old little boy. He
had been living with her for just 9 days when I saw them and I recognised the
look on her face all too well. That, ‘oh my goodness, what have I done and how
do I handle this?’ kind of look. One that I pulled off everyday for about 4
months when our children moved in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely brilliant,
but it just such a shock. Friends that have had birth babies go into a similar
shock where they can’t leave the house or see anyone for the first few weeks
because they can’t believe what they’ve got in their hands and how dependent it
is upon them. It’s the same when you adopt, only for many of us they are
walking, talking little things that you’re just not used to having around. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The first couple of weeks when our two moved
in my partner and I used to argue over who would go to the shop to get milk
just so we could have 15 minutes to ourselves and not have any responsibility
for that short, sweet walk to the Co-op. I even remember sitting in a Frankie
and Benny’s (somewhere we would never have gone B.C. – Before Children) and
looking over at a couple of teenagers on a date envying their freedom to please
themselves. We literally walked around in the hazy smog of shock for weeks. It
lifted slightly when they started school but came back around 3.15 every day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nothing can prepare you for the day your
children move in. Nothing. It’s exciting, it’s frightening, it’s exhausting and
it’s forever. The first night ours spent here in their new home after we put
them to bed we went to watch the new series of The Apprentice. It was a Wednesday
night. We laughed at the bunch of buffoons on the show and tried to guess who
would win and it felt like any other normal night until we stared at each other
and burst out laughing because we remembered we had two little children asleep
upstairs. We crept up to take a look at them while they were sleeping and it
was just like a John Lewis advert, if the bedrooms in John Lewis ads had toys
all over the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next morning there was a tap on the bedroom
door just before 6am. Our son was up and he wanted to chat and play. And so it
began. And so it goes on to this day. The shock has gone. The arguments about
who gets out of the house are long gone and the envy of the carefree teenagers
has never reared its spotty head again. We’re okay now, well, more than okay
actually but it does take time to adjust. I often tell new adoptive parents at
matching panel about how it might feel when they move in, but I know they’re
not really listening. Their eyes are glistening and they just want their family
to hurry up and come together. I was the same. See, it’s impossible to prepare
because you just want your children to be under your roof, and quite right too.
It’s all part of the wonderfully bumpy ride that is modern adoption and there’s
no use telling them. They’ll soon find out for themselves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-74072182229735283042012-05-07T11:21:00.003-07:002012-05-07T11:21:46.223-07:00Don’t listen to the Daily Fail<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This blog is being typed with hot and angry
hands. Not because my kids have poured my favourite perfume down the sink or
cleaned our new car with rocks, it’s because I have just read an article on
adoption in the Daily Mail. I am furious. Have you read this tripe? </span><a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2140586/Scandal-babies-parents-wont-adopt-theyre-called-Chrystal-Chardonnay.html" style="font-family: Calibri;">http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2140586/Scandal-babies-parents-wont-adopt-theyre-called-Chrystal-Chardonnay.html</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You see, what if you were/are a prospective
adopter, someone who has struggled with fertility perhaps or is simply thinking
about it as a way to create your family, this article could stop you in your
tracks. I’m furious because it’s so bloody inaccurate! Local authorities and
agencies do sometimes have their own ways of working and can be mildly
different from each other but they all have to adhere to the same guidelines
and I think I understand enough about it to be able to rant in this blog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am an adoption panel member for a local
authority and have been for two years. I read those very heavy yellow pages
sets of papers and help the panel come to a decision every month. If a child
with an unusual or highly recognisable name comes up then sometimes we actively
recommend they consider a change to protect the child’s identity. If you’re
talking about a baby, you can introduce a new name gently and they will become
used to it. Obviously get a 4 year old with a tricky name then it needs more consideration
but you are adopting a person, a child, not a name that will embarrass you when
you enrol them at baby yoga. The article was so unashamedly aimed at the middle
classes it was thoroughly insulting to many who have considered adoption or
have adopted. Your children’s friends don’t have to be called William and
Henry!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This was badly researched, highly
sensationalist, wholly inaccurate and actually damaging. The girl called
Chardonnay they talked about in the article is, in my opinion, very likely to
be fine and will find a loving family who will give her a tremendous life. They
are playing us, the readers. Pulling our heartstrings and trying to get us to
think the whole process is in ruins and best avoided. Well I can tell you it is
not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you want to do you have to go for it. The
process is nothing like as bad as they say it is. Read my previous blogs to
find out what I think about that. As for letterbox contact, well, I don’t like
it and don’t agree it’s beneficial for any party but still, their view is
wrong. Children never get to write directly to their parents. Ever. It’s like
prison mail and gets checked before being passed on. The Daily Mail is putting
frighteners on people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There. I said it. I said it quickly and with
a hot head. This might not be my finest blog but it is one of the most
passionate. Now I’m going to watch a DVD with my beautiful children and try and
forget all about the Daily Mail. You should too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-20368982718244084392012-03-12T07:55:00.000-07:002012-03-12T14:37:05.396-07:00The Trappings of SuccessI just this minute got home after going to a book signing by Lisa Faulkner, a regular re-tweeter of my blog and an adoptive mum. We chatted (very briefly) about how we need more positive stories out there about adoption. My blogs are always overwhelmingly positive, but that's because they reflect my experience from the approval process down to the children we now have. I want my blog to be honest, too, because it's not all plain sailing. Going from being a carefree couple with no responsibilities to being mums of two in a matter of days knocked us for six. So this blog is about how a trapped finger helped our little girl, who didn't like me very much, see me as her mummy.<br />
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One of the scariest aspects of adoption is worrying if your children will like you, never mind love you. If you've read any of my other blog posts you'll know that our love for each other as a family is now overwhelmingly strong. But it wasn't always so. We have a boy and a girl and whilst in foster care our son was the one social workers had concerns over. He was in therapy and displayed some fairly bad behaviour. Our girl was happy, attached to her carers and a seemingly easy child. All the work pre-placement was around how our son would cope with adoption and how we would cope with him. Well, from day one that boy fitted right in. It's like the tension and anxiety he was carrying around with him just lifted from his shoulders. He was warm, funny, loving and happy to be loved by us. We felt very attached to each other fairly quickly and surprised everyone, especially the professionals. Our happy little girl, however, was having a more difficult time. </div>
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She loved her foster home and had been there for 3 years, more or less. She was too young to understand why she was leaving this happy home. Her tears in the car on the day she came to live with us still tug at my heart when I think about it. She developed a nasty case of shingles from the stress of it all and we spent many hours at the doctors and the hospital. All the while our son was getting stuck in at school, making friends and happily forming a secure attachment to us both. Our girl was really struggling with me. I’m the main carer and took a year off on adoption leave so it was me that had to say no to things. She found this very hard. One day she looked me in the eye as she threw a finger puppet we were making on the floor. I asked her to pick it up. 'No', she said. I asked her if she would pick it up if her foster mum asked her and she said yes, I would. I had to go to the sink and look out the window because I was so close to tears. She would push me away at bedtime and wipe off any kiss I gave her. She was a tough nut to crack but I had to persevere.</div>
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Then one day, something terrible happened and it changed everything. It was Halloween. Our boy was a reluctant vampire and our girl was the cutest witch with the greenest face you’ll ever see. We were on our way to a party when I closed the front door behind me. Our girl just stood still with her hand on the doorframe, not making a sound. I told her to come along and get in the car but her face looked so pained. That’s when I saw that the entire tip of her finger was shut in the front door, which was now locked. I panicked as I tried to get the keys and dropped them on the floor. Eventually, with shaky hands I opened the door and her finger was bright white and flat as a pancake. After the initial silence of shock she now began to scream with all her might. I was terrified. What had I done? This might sound dramatic for a trapped finger but as we were struggling to get on I thought this was going to make things worse.</div>
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I called another mum who was also going to the party and she offered to take our son while I took our girl to the walk in centre to see if it needed treatment. Thankfully, they said it would just be sore but nothing was broken and she would be fine with a spoonful or two of the pink stuff. We went home, the two of us, and she cried and cried on my knee. I held her so tightly for an hour or more until she felt calmer and it had stopped hurting and just as I asked her if she would still like to go the party, it was as if something somewhere just clicked. Between us, it just clicked. Even though I was the meanie who trapped her finger I was also the one who took her to see a nurse, hugged her and stayed with her until she felt better. I can remember the exact moment when she looked at me as if to say, ‘Okay. You’re all right. You can be my mum.’ We shared a smile and went to the party. She stuck close by me until the party games started and even then she kept checking I was still there. It felt brilliant.</div>
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So, is this a positive story? I think so. It certainly had a happy ending. I wouldn’t recommend causing your children any sort of harm to get them to love you but that trapped finger changed everything for us. I’m also a lot more careful when I go out the door these days. </div>
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As for Lisa Faulkner, she does wonders for the image of adoption by speaking about it in her new book as well as in interviews. She’s right. Positive stories about people’s experiences are so important for people thinking about going through adoption. I think it’s fantastic that someone in the public eye is so open about their own experiences. Her book’s pretty marvellous, too. </div>
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You can buy it here, if you like: <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%22http://www.amazon.co.uk/Recipes-My-Mother-Daughter/dp/0857206168/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331563398&sr="><span class="s1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Recipes-My-Mother-Daughter/dp/0857206168/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331563398&sr=1-1</span></a></div>
</div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-6348860514445449102012-02-21T04:21:00.000-08:002012-02-21T04:22:24.479-08:00Letterbox contact<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavF2JerRQ44P_9PQh4VpXEPb9MAaCKXC2GCZu7WfeXGjZlbMw05Mw_x9f9WH6oFndQXfOhM393e5x-0m-427_O4h7pl4cu4n_gqq5oSUc9CZLHGcUDhyDE7rO_BQx2yJXflXOJhIojTk/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavF2JerRQ44P_9PQh4VpXEPb9MAaCKXC2GCZu7WfeXGjZlbMw05Mw_x9f9WH6oFndQXfOhM393e5x-0m-427_O4h7pl4cu4n_gqq5oSUc9CZLHGcUDhyDE7rO_BQx2yJXflXOJhIojTk/s320/photo.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The name of my blog is ‘positive about
adoption’. That’s because I feel extremely positive about the process and about
my adopted family. It’s also because I don’t think there are enough positive
stories out there and there are two many doom-laden Daily Mail articles putting
people off. However, recently a reader through Twitter asked me to write about
letterbox contact. I explained to her I thought I would find it too hard to
write about it. Her comment back was that if we found it hard it would give a
balanced view of adoption. This is a totally fair comment, but it’s more
complicated than that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’ll notice I never mention the name of my
partner and certainly never the names or any photographs of our children. I
don’t mention their ages or anything about where we live or the places we go.
Clearly, their safety and happiness is the most important thing in the world to
me. I write my blog because I enjoy writing. I enjoy sharing our stories in a
humourous way and I love the feedback I get from people who feel it has helped
them in some way. It sort of gives you permission to wrestle with your other
half (or yourself) on the day of panel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is why I have to be extremely careful
writing about letterbox contact. I don’t want to reveal any details about their
birth family for everyone’s sake. It’s too personal. With that in mind I have
given it lots of thought and this is what I have to say. I don’t like it. I
realise it is part of modern adoption and it will help us in the future because
there is no great secret or story for them to discover. But every time we get
the letters we are reminded of the other family. And it hurts a bit. We can’t
help it. They are our children now and this is our family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we get the letters we always take a week
or two to absorb them and find the right time to read them to the children. We
are always mindful of what they’ve got coming up. For example, both kids have a
sleepover arranged this weekend so we will wait until they are home again and
not send them off to their friend’s houses with these thoughts swimming through
their heads. We all sit together and I tend to be the one who reads them out. I
try to read them with enthusiasm and make them sound light and uplifting. They
sit quietly listening and when I’ve finished they slink off to their rooms to
play. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is almost always a change in their
behaviour in the week or so after reading the letters. Sometimes they are extra
clingy and loving, almost reassuring themselves and us. Sometimes we get bad behaviour.
Obviously we prefer the former but we’re realistic enough to know we might have
to deal with the latter. We get questions, which we always answer as honestly
as we can. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think if you’re about to adopt, thinking
about it or have adopted then letterbox contact is more than likely going to be
apart of that. Don’t let it stop you. You might find you feel differently about
it. We’re all individuals and deal with things in our own way. If you have any
questions talk to your social worker about it. I had a long telephone chat with
ours not long ago because I was worried about the content of one of the
letters. I will call them again in the future if anything worries me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Letterbox contact never stops us feeling that
adopting our two children is the best thing we ever did. It is what it is and
we have to deal with it. It just feels uncomfortable and a bit difficult for a
few weeks of the year. It’s still completely bloody worth it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-66573275995870034872012-02-18T09:10:00.001-08:002012-02-18T09:11:16.865-08:00A watched phone…<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We all get big news from time to time. If you
get the job you’ve always wanted or a house sale goes through or you get
together with the man or woman of your dreams, things that make you feel
brilliant. But I don’t think there is anything in this world that feels as incredible
as knowing you’re going to have children. And when you’re approved adopters
that phone call could come at any time. There’s no way of knowing when it will
be and it’s not like you can eat a bowl of chillies to speed it up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When you’re waiting for that call you can
drive yourself a little bit crazy. You know something major is going to happen
in your life but you have no idea when. You can still enjoy hung over lie-ins
at the weekend and plan holidays without giving a hoot about term times, but
every so often you remember this won’t last. It’s a time I look back on with a
certain fondness, even though in reality I was probably unbearable to be
around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You see, I’m a big communicator. Whether it’s
Facebook, Twitter, texting, blogging, emailing or good old-fashioned talking to
someone face-to-face, I like to stay in touch and know the news. Waiting for
this phone call from our social worker was beginning to make me turn purple.
Every time my mobile rang with an unknown number I practically jumped on it. We
had been approved for 3 months and were beginning to get fed up of sleeping in and
pleasing ourselves. Then one day, it rang.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My partner was in London with work and I was
at my desk. It was a normal day. The mobile went. I jumped up and ran into the
corridor to answer it. It was our lovely social worker. She asked if I was free
to talk and I could feel my palms going sweaty. She said, ‘You’ve been
matched’. I felt sick. She told me all about these two little children, a boy
and a girl, and said she would come round next week with more information and
their photographs. Naturally, the first thing I did was call my other half.
Voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail. And again. Voicemail. I shook my phone in
frustration. This was killing me. I couldn’t tell another soul in the world
what I knew before telling her and this was the biggest news of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sitting back at my desk I tried to
concentrate on writing a piece about sustainable energy for a construction magazine.
As if. I was chewing my lips, sweating, sitting on my hands, banging my head on
the desk and being very melodramatic. Why couldn’t I get hold of her? A friend
asked me if I was okay but all I could do was nod my head with wild eyes. This
was very unlike me. Then my phone rang and it was her. My heart felt like it was
going to explode.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This time I went outside in the bright
sunshine and I finally told her our news. She had been on a broken down tube
for half an hour and came out to about 24 missed calls. We talked all about it
and I told her what little I knew. We kept saying their names over and over
again. I couldn’t believe she was in London and we couldn’t just meet up and
talk even more about it. How could I go back to writing a piece on solar panels
now? At least I was able to tell other people. I called my mum, our best
friends and other adopters who had also been matched. Then I ran in and told my
colleagues the news as well. My boss might have wanted me to spend a bit more time
doing what I was paid for and less time repeating myself to anyone who would
listen but he didn’t let it show. When my other half got home we opened a
bottle of champagne and started imagining what our lives would be like. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I write the girl is drawing a picture of
her family on her easel and the boy is out at one of the many parties they get
invited to. I’m sat here trying to think of something witty to round off this
blog, but I can’t so I’ll go for sentimental instead. Somehow, some way, we
were matched with the most brilliant children imaginable. It’s not always easy,
I do have the odd ‘fisher-wife’ moment trying to get them out the door, but the
social workers got this match absolutely right. I never did go back to my job
after taking adoption leave, but I was probably a rubbish employee anyway
because I never stopped staring at my phone for those last few months.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-37405046173573021452012-02-08T06:16:00.001-08:002012-02-08T06:50:01.825-08:00The Pressure of Panel<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is one word all prospective adopters
fear, not triplets, ‘panel’. If you want to become an approved adoptive parent
in the UK you have to go in front of a panel. It’s part of the process and one
your social workers talk to you about at almost every home visit. It begins to
become the event that your entire life hinges on. ‘Panel need to see that
you’ve thought of this’, ‘Panel will need an explanation for that’. It’s hands
down the most dreaded part of the process. Until the kids move in, of course.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We had the panel date circled on our calendar
for weeks. Just looking at it made my tummy go funny. I was excited. I was
ready for it. This felt like the final hurdle (until you discover there are a
few more once you get matched). The morning of our panel finally came around
and things did not go to plan. My co-mummy works at a law firm and a massive, international
crisis had occurred the day before. She was in the office until 5am on the day
of panel. She didn’t sleep because she was working like crazy and I couldn’t
sleep because I was going crazy. When she finally got home I left her to sleep
for as long as I could. Panel was at 11am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Previously a social worker friend of ours had
given us some advice. She told my partner not to wear a work suit because they
will think she is too corporate and too committed to her job. Ha. How could we
admit she had worked through the night the day before? To clear our heads we
took the dog for a walk in the local fields and I mentioned I didn’t think she
should wear a suit. Well. I don’t remember lighting a touch paper but something
just snapped in both of us. We actually ended up shouting at each other and
wrestling on a rugby pitch an hour before we had to show ourselves to be
respectable prospective parents. And it was all over what to wear. This was the
biggest row we had ever had, before or since. It was ridiculous and we both
knew it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Soon our shouts turned to sniggers and we
both laughed at just how pathetic all of this was. We ran back home to get
ready, me in a pair of trousers and a shirt, her in a nice black suit. And you
know what? We were approved. The whole panel agreed we would be suitable
parents and we drove away feeling as close to euphoric as you can get without
assistance. We went for lunch to celebrate and were greeted with a bottle of
champagne courtesy of some gorgeous work colleagues. It was a wonderful
feeling. We were expecting children but we could still guzzle the champagne.
Perfect!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You have to remember that if you’re at panel, you’re doing well. You
got that far. Your social worker and their managers don’t put you up for panel
until they know you and your Form F is ready. My advice to all prospective
adopters is to try not to fear panel. I’m a panel member myself now and I
always make sure I give adopters a knowing and supportive smile when they come
in. There is something utterly nerve wrecking about sitting in front of that
many people and you can’t change that. But just know they want you to do well.
You will be asked a few questions but they are questions you will be able to
answer, because they’re about you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh, and don’t worry about what to wear. Just
feel comfortable in what you have on and you’ll be fine. As for my co-mummy and
me, she is still the main breadwinner in our house but she makes plenty of time
for our children and has never had to work that hard since. Which is a good job
too, otherwise we might have had to go for round two. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-24918898284578939522012-01-17T03:34:00.000-08:002012-01-17T03:44:06.977-08:00Two mums, two kids, one family<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This morning on the walk to school our boy
told me he loves it when it’s Father’s Day, because he doesn’t have to do
anything and can enjoy ‘free play’ while the other children make cards. I
reminded him that on Mother’s Day he has to work extra hard and make two cards
while everyone else makes one. He slapped his forehead and said, ‘oh yeah, I
forgot about that.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our two adopted children have lived with my
partner and I for three years now and I can honestly say that we haven’t
received one single bit animosity or non-acceptance. Not even so much as a
‘tut’ when we walk by. We genuinely forget that we are any different to any
other family and I often describe us as a very ‘conventional non-conventional’
family, in that are probably a bit boring. We play in the park, we go out for
dinners, we go to museums and we try to remember to get more use out of our
National Trust membership every year. So far so very, very normal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We genuinely found the whole adoption process
to be quite wonderful. We never felt we were treated any differently or ever
made to feel awkward. Ironically, the one person who did make us feel
uncomfortable was another gay man on the training course. He made a snide comment
during an exercise we did on how people fit into the world, insinuating that it
would be hard for us to be accepted in our community. Well, he got that wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of course, when the children started bringing
friends home for tea we got a lot of questions. Such as, ‘Where is your dad?’ ‘Why
don’t you live with them?’ ‘Where did you live before?’ It went on and on. But
we just answered them calmly, honestly and without any fuss. When children have
questions they just want answers they can understand. There is nothing unusual
about my family to everyone that knows us. I am friends with many of the mums
in the playground. I go on school trips to help out. I work with the PTA
putting on fundraising events. I embarrassed our children at the school
Halloween party by dressing up in a hideous outfit, because that’s what parents do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From the very first phone call to the Local
Authority Adoption Team to our family day in court, our adoption experience has
been as close to magical as you can get. Every year we look forward to going to
the adopter’s picnic to say hello to the lovely people who helped put our
family together. Our children are happy. They get treats. They get told off.
They get everything you would want children to have. And they get all of this
from their two mums. Shame on anyone who thinks they shouldn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-73728449138649967322011-12-01T04:26:00.000-08:002011-12-01T04:26:33.411-08:00Our not-so-cracking first ChristmasOur first Christmas with our two adopted children two years ago was so ridiculously stressful it was more pantomime than pleasure. And it’s all my fault. At least, that’s what I think. I was so determined to make it their most amazing Christmas ever I practically force fed them Christmas songs from the minute we all woke up, which was 4am, until the minute we all crashed, about 5pm. One of the most wonderful things about finally having your children is to give them a special Christmas, and I think the pressure got to me. <br />
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Firstly, we weren’t organised. I thought wrapping presents on Christmas Eve would be really sweet and 'Christmassy'. In reality we were putting together a Castle of Doom that had 147 separate parts at midnight on Christmas Eve with my co-mummy who had the on-set of Swine Flu, but we didn’t know that at the time. The children woke us up at 4am and I thought it would be a good idea to go open the presents ‘because it’s our first Christmas’. This meant we were tired and grumpy, the kids were in an absolute frenzy and the whole event felt like a speed unwrapping contest. They were tossing box sets of books to the side and ripping open the next one. All the while Dean Martin is in the background banging on about how much he want’s to let it snow. <br />
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Fast-forward about 6 hours and I’m getting on with the dinner. Something I love to do. I hear a blood-curdling scream. After running up the stairs at breakneck speed I discover our children’s co-mummy holding her eye and crying out in pain. A toy gun that fired plastic discs has cracked her contact lens in her eye. Our little girl is crying because she has had the toy taken off her. It was like World War 3. Do they even know it’s Christmas? Once this was cleared up and the tears, from both mummy and daughter, were cleared up it was dinnertime. My co-mummy couldn’t taste a thing due to being ill, our son gobbled down what he could in 3 seconds to get playing again and our little girl cried when she looked at her plate because she didn’t like any of it. <br />
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Finally, we were rescued by friends and asked to go for a walk at around 3pm. This was my favourite part of the day. There was snow on the ground and we had a sledge. It was fabulous. We got back home around 4.30 and both kids crashed out completely at 5. We carried them up to bed and that was that. First Christmas… done. <br />
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Thankfully, I learned a few good lessons from this and last year our Christmas was truly wonderful. This year, we have Grandparents and siblings over so it should be even better. We now have a 7am rule for getting up and more tracks on our Christmas playlist so we don’t hear Mariah Carey 17 times in one day. I bet I’m not the only adoptive mum who experienced this. The pressure we put on ourselves is immense. I just wanted it to be the stuff that memories are made of. I suppose I did achieve that. We still laugh about it now. Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-23419818462517318922011-04-20T06:52:00.000-07:002011-04-20T06:52:26.548-07:00Adoption storiesHello again. Long time no blog. That's because I'm not really a 'blogger' as such, but I am a writer.<br />
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I am hoping to write a book about the adoption process. The home visits, the training, panel and matching etc. If any of you have any stories you would like to share with me please drop me an email or comment on here. I'm after true stories, anecdotes, quotes and thoughts. Whether they're good or bad, happy or sad, you could help me write a book that gives people a balanced, insightful look into the adoption process itself.<br />
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Rather than being an academic style handbook, this is about real stories and positive attitudes. The adoption process gets so much bad press it potentially puts people off in their hundreds, and we need good adopters to give forever homes to the children that deserve them. Have you got something to say? Then please say it to me and it could make it into a book for potential adopters to read.<br />
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I look forward to hearing your stories.<br />
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Helen xHelenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-895226843086101986.post-53889529554267871262010-11-02T04:59:00.000-07:002010-11-02T04:59:12.890-07:00Adoption Week<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">When you get to the point at which you feel adoption is right for you, you can usually expect a maddening response from the people you tell. They suck their teeth, much like a plumber pricing up a job, and say, ‘oooh, isn’t it really horrible and difficult to get through?’ Then it’s, ‘Training, why do you need training? Regular parents don’t need training.’ Well, no they don’t, and perhaps they should, but this is very different. Besides, they don’t train you to be a parent they train you to understand what it feels like to be adopted. With all this negativity and the regular scary headlines, it’s hardly encouraging, is it? It’s National Adoption Week this week and it’s time we all started to be more positive about adoption. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">My partner and I adopted two children two years ago and contrary to what the teeth-sucking, concerned well-wishers might tell you, we actually enjoyed the process. Genuinely. And we’re not the only ones. Thousands of successful adopted families would agree it’s a process worth going through. But who knows how many people are put off by the negative attitudes surrounding adoption and never go through with it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">You know how parents will tell you they could lift a car from off their child or stop a train with their own body because they love them so much? So could I. I absolutely know I could do any of those things if something threatened my children and I cannot believe there are any other parents out there who love theirs one drop more than we love ours. But to get to this point as an adoptive parent you have to go through the process. It is a means to a very wonderful end and not something to dread or be defensive about it. If you want to adopt, no matter what brought you to this decision, you do have to go through training and the process and you know what, enjoy it. Think of it as if you’re pregnant, but you can still drink.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Recently, our son brought a very inquisitive friend home for tea and I thought my head would explode with all the questions he asked us. ‘So where did you come from? Whose tummy did you come out of? Where did you live before here?’ It went on but we both answered his questions honestly and simply. His last question, and by this time he was a little exasperated, was, ‘but who’s your real mum?’ Our little boy pointed at me. The memories of all the meetings, home visits and panels slipped away right there and then.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">There are some aspects to the adoption process that can feel a bit uncomfortable. It can take a long time, longer than the average pregnancy certainly. It can be difficult answering questions about your life and who you are. It can be tense, constantly waiting for meetings to happen and for a panel date to be set. But you know what? So it should be. Social workers that are assessing people to be prospective adoptive parents have a job to do and they absolutely have to get it right. The children they are placing with forever families deserve to go to parents who have been thoroughly checked out and have thoroughly thought it through. We’re the grown ups. We can take a bit of discomfort for the sake of children who have had a tumultuous time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Our little girl came downstairs the other night, half sleep walking, half wanting a cuddle. Long after she had fallen back to sleep snuggled in my arms I sat there just taking it all in. Holding her tight and listening to her soft little snores. It was just the two of us on the sofa and I didn’t want to take her back to bed. All I could think about is how much I love her and how much I love being her mummy every single day. Now that’s certainly worth a few uncomfortable questions and exercising a little bit of patience. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">The next time someone tells you they are thinking of adopting, don’t tell them how hard it can be. Tell them what a wonderful thing it is they’re doing. And if you’re about to go through it, stick with it. Enjoy it. Learn as much as you can from the training and from your social worker. Just like they say women forget the pain of childbirth afterwards, the same goes for the adoption process so start to see this as the amazing opportunity it is and get excited about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><!--EndFragment-->Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493478144398260083noreply@blogger.com10