Waiting...

Our assessment didn't take as long as it can do. Later we realized that our social worker hadn't done a very detailed job and another one (the boss!) had to come and fill in some details.

She was friendly, but not always reassuring. I still couldn't really believe that it was going to work, and that one day we would be adopting a child, so any comments she made to us which were remotely cautionary or negative sent me into a panic.

I remember that she came to see us one day after having checked through our medical forms. She told me I would have to 'watch the weight'. I asked her what she meant. She said that I was quite overweight. Heart pounding, thinking that this was the 'no' speech, I asked if that was going to go against us. She replied that it wouldn't, just that I should watch it!

Well, although I said nothing to her, I was quite furious! Did she think I didn't know I was overweight? Was she trying to give me some advice? She obviously didn't realize what effect she had on people.

Another problem she brought up was the doctor's comments about my husband. He can be quite a worrier and a hypochondriac to boot - the doctor had said that he suffered from chronic anxiety.

Again, she picked up on this, worried us sick about it, but in the end it was not a cause for concern.

Apart from these moments of terror, the thing I remember the most was waiting, waiting, waiting.

Social services never do anything quickly. The shortest wait will be two weeks, but usually it is six or more, for anything!

We were finally given a date for the panel to decide whether to approve us or not. I think it was in June. Needless to say, a few days before the date, it was postponed! We were given a new date - in August!

Meanwhile we were advised to prepare a special book about our family, a child-friendly book to introduce ourselves. This could be given to a child later, but most importantly at this stage, it was for the panel to see.

I went to town on this one! I poured every last inch of creativity into it. I had touchy feely bits (fur to stroke on the photos of our dogs), I had wheels you could turn (to see the different photos as it went round), I had a lift the flap game with a photo of each room in our house under each flap! I had feathers, googly eyes, glitter - you name it, I had stuck it in!

Finally, in August, we got the phone call. We were on a short break in Yorkshire at the time so we had given our mobile phone number. We knew roughly when we would get the call, so the three of us were sitting in our room in the B&B, nervously waiting for the news.

We weren't kept waiting very long (amazingly!) when the phone rang! Even then, our social worker showed a complete lack of awareness of how we must be feeling. She didn't come out with the news straight away - she talked about the panel, who was on it and other irrelevant details. In the end I had to ask her. "Have we been approved?"

I don't think she meant to be cruel, she just didn't have the imagination to realize that she should have told us straight away.

"Oh yes - of course!" was her reply.

The first steps...

Social Services responded fairly quickly (I discovered later that that was pretty miraculous!)

We had an initial visit from a social worker who asked us lots of questions about us, our son and our house.

She was pleased we had smoke detectors (phew! just got them fitted in time!) and a bit worried about the water feature in the garden. We assured her we could easily get rid of it if necessary!

Anyway, we passed this first inspection - she didn't even go to the toilet to see how clean we were!

The next step was to organize a series of interviews with our own social worker. This took a lot more time. We were to see him about once a month, sometimes together, sometimes on our own. I think we had around 6 meetings with him altogether, over about 6 or 7 months.

I was very nervous, especially the first time he came. He was an extremely large man who walked with a walking stick. We sat in the dining room because he wasn't comfortable on a sofa.

I kept feeling he was going to 'find us out'. Find what out? I have no idea! Somehow I just had this feeling that I was a phoney, not really able to parent an adopted child.

I felt that we had to be squeaky clean, the perfect couple, the perfect family. What I didn't realize is that no-one is, so they are just looking for real problems which could get in the way.

I didn't relax with him until towards the end of our assessment, when he saw me on my own. He asked me if there was anything I thought might get in the way of our being allowed to adopt.

I told him about my worries about age and weight. He was very reassuring and told me lots of people much fatter than me, and much older than my husband had successfully been approved for adoption.

What a relief! And I think he was relieved too - I think he must have realized I was worried about something so was pleased it wasn't that I was an ax murderer in my spare time...

Adoption as an option?

Neither my husband or I had ever considered adoption. I think I had vaguely heard that if you were fat (me) or old (my husband was 43) then you couldn’t possibly be considered as suitable adoptive parents. So the idea was squashed before it had even properly ignited.

Then one day I read a short article in a magazine which refuted these myths. I can’t really remember the details of the article now, but I remember how I felt as I read it! It was like seeing a pinprick of light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel! I couldn’t understand why I had never though of adoption before as a possibility for us.

I kept this new idea to myself for a while. I wanted to turn it around in my head until I was quite sure it was what I wanted. I was also scared of proposing it to my husband, I felt that if he rejected the idea I would, once again, be devastated.

When I finally did talk to him, he was interested. He didn’t leap at the idea eagerly as I had, but he was definitely interested in finding out more. I could have cried with relief - in fact I think I did! I don’t know, is it a man thing, to be more against having a child who is not your own? Anyway, I thought that he wouldn’t be keen, so I was amazed and delighted that he agreed to pursue the idea.

I don’t tend to hang about when I want something, so the very next day I was phoning our local Social Services Adoption Unit to start things off...

The reason for adopting

After the birth of our first son, we naturally assumed that we would have more children. We had even planned to have 3! Another boy, then a girl.
When our first son was 2, I became pregnant. We were both thrilled, it had been relatively easy this time! (It took us a good 2 years to conceive Number 1!)
Sadly, at around 8 weeks, I started to bleed. I went for a scan, still hoping for the best, but it turned out the baby had died.
Many people who have not experience miscarriage think that it is no big deal, especially if it happens early on.
It was a big deal for me, I grieved for a long time. In fact I still do - although it is a dull ache now.
I became obsessed with getting pregnant again as soon as possible. I was sure that this would make the pain of our loss go away.
Sadly it was not to be. We went on trying for a long time, then in desperation, signed up for fertility treatment.
It turned out that there was nothing wrong with either of us, and we were told that eventually it would happen.
The trouble is that the stress of having to have sex whether we felt like it or not, followed by the hope that it had worked, then the desperation when my period appeared, played havoc with our relationship. We stuck at it for about 3 years, but in the end realized that we couldn't go on for ever, the stress and unhappiness it caused was getting too much for both of us.
We knew that the obsession of trying to get pregnant was taking away our enjoyment and pleasure of watching our son grow and develop.
Making the decision to stop trying was at the same time a great relief to both of us, but a new grief, almost as bad as how I felt after the miscarriage.

Our Adoption Story

We adopted our beautiful boy when he was 9 months old. He is now 7 years old! We have been through some rough times, some normal parenting rough times, and some adoption parenting rough times.
I feel honored to have experienced this, and even more honored to have our wonderful son.
I think not enough is done to prepare parents for adoption, and the problems they are likely to face.
I want to write this journal, gradually, as a record of our son's journey, and ours.
I hope that this will be useful for him when he is older, and maybe useful to others who are going through, or about to embark on this wonderful adventure!
More soon...