Baby steps (pardon the pun!)
I don't do things by half (you may have gathered that from my previous post about 'doing things'). I made contact with three local authorities (even though I had heard 'bad things' about our own, largely from someone who we since realise must have had a lot of issues) and then because the internet is a strange and creepy omnipresent being, a advert popped up on facebook for a charitable adoption agency which turned out to be based fairly nearby. I received replies from all. Some were quite blunt and businesslike, but all agreed to send an information pack. One, however, stood out from the rest and this was the charitable adoption agency. They stood out because they were friendly, answered my emails like they had actually read them properly and engaged in conversation via them.
I exchanged several emails full of hesitant and worried questions ranging from 'I don't have a bath, only a shower', 'I have a graveled garden' to 'will debt be a problem?' and 'my area isn't the best'.
they were friendly, patient and waded through my long emails and gave equally as informative replies. I was invited to call to speak to a social worker.
I was incredibly nervous to do this and in the end spent the best part of an hour chatting. When I think back now I realise how much work the social workers have looking after just one family (and they have several) this was a very kind thing for them to do. We chatted about debt and gardens and the bathroom (yes, I would most likely need a bath for a little one). I felt reassured know what tests the dogs would go though, that debt wasn't an issue if it was managed well and we had a little put by for emergencies like a washing machine breaking for instance and that our area didn't matter just safety in the home. It all seemed distinctly do-able.
We were invited to an open day in February. This felt a little soon for Karl, which is understandable as it had been me doing all the talking so it must have felt a little sprung on him even though I had been relaying the information with a wide-eyed wonder.
We agreed to go to the next open day/ evening- whenever that would be...it turned out to be June.
In that time we had spoken a lot about preparing the house (how much awful work it would be), clearing some debt and getting savings (how we would save as much as we could from trading and sort out our finances) and how we would sort out a new bathroom (Karl cursed me as it was me who wanted the bath removed and a shower put in many years ago, please understand that this bathroom is the size of a postage stamp- to be more precise, it is just a little longer and no wider than two baths side by side).
The evening came along and in traditional 'us' fashion is didn't run smoothly. I had to leave work early in a free and therefore had to tell at least one person where I was going- no one else knew. We were travelling down a busy dual carriageway and 'boom!' the tyre got a puncture! I hobbled the car over to the lay-by and in a panic saw this as an ill omen...I didn't have my rescue number on me (and have no idea how to change a tyre). I tried some nearby garages (as we weren't that far out of town) but no one had the time to put a new one on...so Karl changed the tyre for the space saving tyre. In his too strong for his own good manner he managed to break a nut and it was then held on by three nuts, not four. I was astounded he knew how to do this being a non- driver and never having done it before!
We made our way slowly (you can't go over 50 miles per hour on a tiny space saver wheel) and got there to our relief. The first thing Karl has to do is ask for their loos so he can wash his quite dirty hands! Wondering what sort of impression that made I hovered nervously waiting for him to return.
Without going over all the details, this evening was welcoming, informative, friendly and generally had a lovely atmosphere. We met the social worker I had been chatting to by email who called us one of the most tentative couples she had known given my constant questioning! She took us through the process and we spoke to several adopters who had children through this charity. We took a form and filled it out and left it for them to consider.
I think the next day I had a parents evening as I remember calling mum and dad from at school before it started. I was met with shock and negativity. Comments from mum like 'but you can't do that' and 'not with your house/ dogs/ whatever else'. Dad was calmer and more interested in it all, though still in shock. It is fair to say mum's comments were very hurtful. She relayed her own experience in adopting (she split from her first husband before a child was found). I left the phone call feeling hurt and angry and let down. I guess they had got used to never being grandparents and my mum's reaction to something is always panic. Karl's parents, however ,were shocked but pleased. My mum is, however, now knitting dinosaurs and more giddy than a giddy thing!
By the end of July, we were sitting in a little room having an interview, filling out basic forms and worrying that we still weren't good enough. That worry and anticipation was nothing compared to what was to come. Finally, (that finally relates more to how long we had worried and how much longer time felt in the few minutes the social worker was out of the room making the decision) we were told that we were accepted onto stage one. It was my last day of term in 2014- we had every reason to celebrate!
We returned to fill out DBS check forms, and provide basic ID and I think, but cannot truly remember exactly what else we talked about then. We didn't meet our social worker in person until our first home visit. Stage one was to provide information, a workbook full of our intents to adopt, what we were looking for in a child, our history and support network. There were scenarios in there to answer and I cannot truly remember much else about it! We had to attend 3 training days in this stage on preparing to adopt. We chose to split ours up as we had a prior commitment on the weekend of the first training course.
It was now September. The room the course was held in was now familiar to us, blue carpet, blue chairs, white walls and children's art work and a small play area suggesting to me that children were sometimes in the building. Several nervy looking couples and one single lady seated themselves in a semi circle. As you do, you start to suss out other couples, are they better than us? Do they really want to be here? Who is our direct competition? Who looks like a nice couple we could talk to? The loud ones make themselves known and occasionally drop clangers of information that other wince at, especially when there is a discussion around sexualised behaviour and how to deal with it with a child who has witnessed sex in the home or worse, been subjected to some form of abuse. The same obnoxiously stated throughout how awful the parents were that neglected and abused children in a tabloid newspaper manner. We exchanged glances with each other- not sure what exactly they thought children were removed from their birth parent/s for if not for this kind of behaviour.
Whilst I can't remember details, I remember how clear the social workers were about they types of children we would maybe adopt, their past, their behaviours and their extreme sense of loss. We came away feeling fully prepared for this journey. I already had a good idea though pastoral work at school where we occasionally see what is considered far below par parenting which is considered 'good enough' by law.
Our second day came in November- but it deserves and entry on its own, not for the course, but for the news we received about our application the night before the course.
I exchanged several emails full of hesitant and worried questions ranging from 'I don't have a bath, only a shower', 'I have a graveled garden' to 'will debt be a problem?' and 'my area isn't the best'.
they were friendly, patient and waded through my long emails and gave equally as informative replies. I was invited to call to speak to a social worker.
I was incredibly nervous to do this and in the end spent the best part of an hour chatting. When I think back now I realise how much work the social workers have looking after just one family (and they have several) this was a very kind thing for them to do. We chatted about debt and gardens and the bathroom (yes, I would most likely need a bath for a little one). I felt reassured know what tests the dogs would go though, that debt wasn't an issue if it was managed well and we had a little put by for emergencies like a washing machine breaking for instance and that our area didn't matter just safety in the home. It all seemed distinctly do-able.
We were invited to an open day in February. This felt a little soon for Karl, which is understandable as it had been me doing all the talking so it must have felt a little sprung on him even though I had been relaying the information with a wide-eyed wonder.
We agreed to go to the next open day/ evening- whenever that would be...it turned out to be June.
In that time we had spoken a lot about preparing the house (how much awful work it would be), clearing some debt and getting savings (how we would save as much as we could from trading and sort out our finances) and how we would sort out a new bathroom (Karl cursed me as it was me who wanted the bath removed and a shower put in many years ago, please understand that this bathroom is the size of a postage stamp- to be more precise, it is just a little longer and no wider than two baths side by side).
The evening came along and in traditional 'us' fashion is didn't run smoothly. I had to leave work early in a free and therefore had to tell at least one person where I was going- no one else knew. We were travelling down a busy dual carriageway and 'boom!' the tyre got a puncture! I hobbled the car over to the lay-by and in a panic saw this as an ill omen...I didn't have my rescue number on me (and have no idea how to change a tyre). I tried some nearby garages (as we weren't that far out of town) but no one had the time to put a new one on...so Karl changed the tyre for the space saving tyre. In his too strong for his own good manner he managed to break a nut and it was then held on by three nuts, not four. I was astounded he knew how to do this being a non- driver and never having done it before!
We made our way slowly (you can't go over 50 miles per hour on a tiny space saver wheel) and got there to our relief. The first thing Karl has to do is ask for their loos so he can wash his quite dirty hands! Wondering what sort of impression that made I hovered nervously waiting for him to return.
Without going over all the details, this evening was welcoming, informative, friendly and generally had a lovely atmosphere. We met the social worker I had been chatting to by email who called us one of the most tentative couples she had known given my constant questioning! She took us through the process and we spoke to several adopters who had children through this charity. We took a form and filled it out and left it for them to consider.
I think the next day I had a parents evening as I remember calling mum and dad from at school before it started. I was met with shock and negativity. Comments from mum like 'but you can't do that' and 'not with your house/ dogs/ whatever else'. Dad was calmer and more interested in it all, though still in shock. It is fair to say mum's comments were very hurtful. She relayed her own experience in adopting (she split from her first husband before a child was found). I left the phone call feeling hurt and angry and let down. I guess they had got used to never being grandparents and my mum's reaction to something is always panic. Karl's parents, however ,were shocked but pleased. My mum is, however, now knitting dinosaurs and more giddy than a giddy thing!
By the end of July, we were sitting in a little room having an interview, filling out basic forms and worrying that we still weren't good enough. That worry and anticipation was nothing compared to what was to come. Finally, (that finally relates more to how long we had worried and how much longer time felt in the few minutes the social worker was out of the room making the decision) we were told that we were accepted onto stage one. It was my last day of term in 2014- we had every reason to celebrate!
We returned to fill out DBS check forms, and provide basic ID and I think, but cannot truly remember exactly what else we talked about then. We didn't meet our social worker in person until our first home visit. Stage one was to provide information, a workbook full of our intents to adopt, what we were looking for in a child, our history and support network. There were scenarios in there to answer and I cannot truly remember much else about it! We had to attend 3 training days in this stage on preparing to adopt. We chose to split ours up as we had a prior commitment on the weekend of the first training course.
It was now September. The room the course was held in was now familiar to us, blue carpet, blue chairs, white walls and children's art work and a small play area suggesting to me that children were sometimes in the building. Several nervy looking couples and one single lady seated themselves in a semi circle. As you do, you start to suss out other couples, are they better than us? Do they really want to be here? Who is our direct competition? Who looks like a nice couple we could talk to? The loud ones make themselves known and occasionally drop clangers of information that other wince at, especially when there is a discussion around sexualised behaviour and how to deal with it with a child who has witnessed sex in the home or worse, been subjected to some form of abuse. The same obnoxiously stated throughout how awful the parents were that neglected and abused children in a tabloid newspaper manner. We exchanged glances with each other- not sure what exactly they thought children were removed from their birth parent/s for if not for this kind of behaviour.
Whilst I can't remember details, I remember how clear the social workers were about they types of children we would maybe adopt, their past, their behaviours and their extreme sense of loss. We came away feeling fully prepared for this journey. I already had a good idea though pastoral work at school where we occasionally see what is considered far below par parenting which is considered 'good enough' by law.
Our second day came in November- but it deserves and entry on its own, not for the course, but for the news we received about our application the night before the course.
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