The Power Of Yet

Every kid that has ever walked the face of the earth has at some point in their life slammed something down and shouted "I can't do it!". Goodness knows, I know plenty of adults who do exactly the same.

I can't do it!

It's very final, isn't it? There is an a whole load of quitting going on. Dummies are being thrown out of prams and toys are being kicked (both metaphorically and literally!).

The initial reaction to a statement like "I can't do it" is to say something that very much sounds like "there's no such thing as can't".

Now I'm a positive person but even I know that there definitely is such a thing as can't. For instance, I can't go on a date with Drew Barrymore (if you're reading this, Drew, call me!) and I can't lift a 10 tonne truck with one hand.

So how do you deal with a negative comment like I can't do that? How do you make it positive? "Sure you can, buddy!" will only get you so far. My opinion of my inability to date Drew Barrymore isn't going to change because someone said that I can, is it? But surely we can't just let our kids wallow in negativity? We can't say "no, you're right, dude, you're never going to succeed" because that's even more harmful than false positivity.

And this is where we get to the point of this blog. We, as parents, have a super power. That super power is that our kids will believe most of what we tell them (especially younger kids). If we use that super power with false positivity we erode the trust the kids have in us. It only took a couple of times of people saying that I could date Drew Barrymore before I realised that they were being less than truthful. "Sure you can!" starts to be met with an eye roll rather than an uplifting attitude. We can solve this little conundrum with just one word.

Yet.

In using the word "yet" we acknowledge the very real anger and frustration that a child may have as they fail at something. "I can see that you are struggling with this" is what we are saying to them; but we continue "it may not always be this way".

Wow, all that meaning in one word. It really is powerful, isn't it? With that one word we turn a phrase of anger and failure around, not into a false positive but into a very real hope.

"I will get better"
"One day I may be able to"
"I can't do it... Yet!"

I don't have a date with Drew Barrymore... yet! (Okay, very real hope may be stretching it on some things!)

Education, education... education?

My dad, bless him, always said that nothing was more important than education. So much did he believe this that he sent us to a school on the other side of the city to ensure that we got a good one; and we most certainly did.
What the school lacked in pastoral care it made up for with hard and fast results (the fact that it somewhat faked these results by not entering pupils into exams they didn't think they would pass is another story).
As parents it is always our job to decide how much of the wisdom of the previous generation we pass onto the next and even before we knew for definite who our kids would be we had a decision to make. OFSTED results or pastoral care?
Education over emotional support?
It was the decision that my dad had to make and he chose one path. We chose the other.
Trust me when I say that applying for a school for children you don't even know you have yet is a very strange feeling. When we were asked about the kids and what they were like we couldn't answer. We hadn't even meet them yet!
Given the circumstances around the kids adoption we felt that the school we sent them to had to fulfill their pastoral needs first. Of the three we looked at one didn't answer our enquiry so was struck off the list immediately, one used words like "will not tolerate" a lot in their prospectus emphasising a lack of empathy. And the third? The third was perfect. They were absolutely speaking our language of inclusion, emotional support and a fun and varied curriculum and focussed less on test results; so we picked that one, naturally!

So, did we do the right thing?

It's a tough call. Education IS important. Just look at how many people in top jobs around the country haven't had a good or great education. For every school-dropout-come-good you can point to I can point to many thousand others who went to the best schools and the best universities; but a high percentage of children from a disrupted upbringing struggle at school both academically and behaviourally. Their chances of academic excellence are worse than their non-adopted peers.
We are extremely lucky in that Little Miss and Mister Man are both thriving at school. The behavioural issues that are so evident in adopted children at school don't appear to have manifested for (yet) for our two (touch wood).

Still, it is their emotional wellbeing that we are most concerned about. Having a school who will voluntarily get a child psychologist in to speak to the staff about attachment in the classroom and how to spot (and help) children with attachment difficulties is so positive. I doubt it would've happened with the other schools we looked at (to be fair to them we have never asked them).

We encourage them to do their best but focus our encouragement and rewards on good behaviour and take any academic excellence as a bonus.

Which is why we were so happy when Mr Man came home with a "Star of the Week" certificate stating that he was a "Role Model to his peers, and always using excellent manners".

That's my boy!

There May Be Trouble Ahead: - The Birthday Conundrum

Everyone loves a birthday; whether it’s your own and your nearest and dearest spoil you rotten, or whether it’s someone else’s and you can spoil them rotten. Birthdays are fun.

 

For Little Miss and Mister Man birthdays aren’t generally fun. Birthdays are massive stress points. Birthdays are a time for worry and anxiety; for bad memories and guilt; and an overarching reminder of every confusing stopping off point in their twisty-turny life so far.

 

The Worry

 

The lead up to a big day often sees an increase in bad behaviour as the kids try to resolve in their heads the difficult paradox of wanting everything but believing they deserve nothing. It’s a paradox that I’m sure most adopted children go through as, rooted at the heart of almost every emotional decision, is the belief that if only they had been better behaved they wouldn’t have been adopted. If they had been better maybe they wouldn't have been neglected. For them, the reality of abuse and neglect is somehow their fault; it was something that they deserved; something that they brought upon themselves. It is important to make sure the child knows that they are not responsible. They won’t believe you, but it does help for them to hear it.

 

The Memories

 

Adopted children have very conflicted memories of happy times. They will remember birthdays with their birth families. Quite often, although not in all cases, special events led to increased amounts of abuse and neglect. The peculiar circumstances around these days can often lead to increased amounts of abuse and neglect and kids will remember a time when a birthday was not a time for celebration but one of misery, disruption and disappointment. These memories are as much a part of the child’s psyche as any other and all we can do as parents is to listen to them if they want to talk and reassure them that whatever happened was not their fault, and they are no longer at risk. They won’t believe you about that either.

 

The Day

 

Little Miss does not like chaos (unless she’s causing it, of course). She likes order and certainty. Given that she has very real and vivid memories of uncertainty and chaos and the negative affect it can have on her life I can fully understand why she hates it so much. It does make surprises difficult though. She loves and hates surprises. She loves the feeling of being surprised but hates the fact that she didn’t know about it; that people were doing something behind her back. Surprise journeys are completely out of the question. They've had too many negative surprise journeys to ever feel positive about getting into a car unless they know where they're going. Unplanned weekends, with their lack of school and long periods of unplanned free-time, are bad enough. Birthdays are about a billion uncertainties more than she’s willing or able to deal with. I hate to think what would happen with a surprise birthday party!

 

Uncertainty is the enemy of a relaxed and stress-free child. This holds for all children, not just adopted ones. Children love routine and certainty and hate chaos and uncertainty. Birthdays, for better or for worse, are a break from that stable routine. The normal daily routine is thrown out of the window and in it’s place is this new and different thing that they don’t know, don’t understand, and in the case of Little Miss especially, have been worrying about for weeks. The best thing to do is to try to structure the day as much as possible; to leave as few things to chance as possible. Write it down. Go through it with them. Let them know what you're planning if something doesn't go wrong. The more planned something is the less chance there is of something prompting a meltdown, but realise that however well planned you are, there is always something that can promote a meltdown.

 

Stress

 

Negotiating around a birthday can be like practicing bomb-disposal on a nest of vipers! A very cute and cuddly nest of vipers, but still! One wrong move and the bomb goes off (or the vipers bite you? To be honest I’m getting confused by my own metaphor here) and what could and should be an enjoyable day turns into an exercise in damage limitation. The stress of feeling like you could cause a meltdown at any moment can lead to parents not dealing with incidents as well as they possibly should. The child stresses the parent and the parent stresses the child. The whole thing is a self-fulfilling prophecy; you expect the meltdown and your expectation contributes towards that meltdown. In these circumstances it’s best to try to remove yourself. It’s as important for parents to practice the same calming techniques we ask of the child. How are they supposed to remain calm if we don’t?

 

Reassurance

 

The most important thing is to empathise and reassure. The most dangerous thing you can say to a child around a big event is to tell them that they’ve ruined it with their behaviour. Imagine how a kid feels to be told that they have ruined Christmas, or a holiday, or a birthday? How much do you think that will contribute to their worry and stress next time one of those events rolls round? Imagine how they feel. Understand how they feel and reassure them that you have enjoyed the day and that it’s been very special, it was them that made it special (because of course it was) and don’t even mention the bad behaviour.

 

When it comes to getting through big event days like birthdays the best thing to do is to make as little fuss of it as the child can deal with. It can feel completely alien to not go over the top, especially in our house, but the children will let us know when they are comfortable enough to do that. In the meantime, we’ll have some nice, quiet, placid birthdays.

I now have a pair of noise cancelling headphones. It’s going to be a very quiet birthday!

An Open Letter to Little Miss

Dear Little Miss,

 

We see you.

 

We see you hurting and it hurts us. We see the raging anger behind those beautiful eyes and we are angry too. We are not angry at you. We are angry that our Little Miss is so torn up inside and we cannot do anything to help. You have been through so much more than most children ever face in their life. No wonder you are angry. If I had been through what you have been through I would be angry too. It is okay to be angry. In fact, it is right and correct for you to feel angry. Be angry.

 

We see you.

 

We see that you are sad. We see that you are happy that you are sad. You feel sad that you are struggling when you should not. You feel pain which we cannot take away. No wonder you are sad; but, Little Miss, if I had been through what you had been through I would be sad too. It is okay to be sad. In fact, it is right and correct for you to feel sad. Be sad.

 

We see you.

 

We see that you are happy. We see that you are sad that you are happy. We know that you love to laugh and dance and sing. We can see the hurt in you, even as you are doing these things. We know that being happy conflicts you. We know that being happy hurts you. We know that you think you don’t deserve to be happy; but, Little Miss, if I had been through what you had been through I would find being happy difficult too. It is okay to be happy. In fact, it is right and correct for you to feel happy. Be happy.

 

Do you see us?

 

Do you see us angry? We are angry. Angry at the world for treating you this way. Angry that such a beautiful little girl has had so much to deal with in so short a time. Do you see us sad? We are sad. Sad as we watch the tears stream down your face for what feels like the millionth time. We are sad that such a warm, kind and beautiful little girl is hurting so much. We are sad that nothing we do seems to help. Do you see us happy? We are happy. Happy that you came into our life. Happy for the times that you have thrown light into our days and brightened up our home. Happy to be your Mum and Dad.

 

Little Miss, we wouldn’t change a thing about you. All of you is what makes you special. The good and the not-so-good. The light and the shade. We want to help you with the not-so-good. With the shade. Let us help you. Let us in. It doesn’t matter how many times you scream at us until your lungs and throat burn. It doesn’t matter how many times you punch and kick and bite us. It doesn’t matter how many things you destroy. It doesn’t matter how many horrible and horrific things you say. Why doesn’t it matter?

 

It doesn’t matter because we love you, Little Miss.

 

You cannot live your life so torn apart. You cannot continue burying everything until it pops out like a balloon. You need to accept every part of you. The bits you like and the bits that you don’t. The face you show the world and the face you only see in the mirror.

 

You’re only a kid. Most of this will go straight over your head so I will say it as simply as I know how (and you know me, I find it hard to say anything simply).

 

Be angry. Be sad. Be happy.

 

But most of all… Be Little Miss. All of Little Miss.

Four Christmases

A lot of people adore Christmas. It's the most wonderful time of the year, whether you celebrate in a spiritual or secular way. The things that we hold dear at this time of the year are family and friends; of familiarity; of tradition.

Adopted children struggle with Christmas. We are advised as adopters to keep things low-key, to not overwhelm. Adopted children have massive feelings of guilt and of loss at this time of the year. They don't know what to do. They don't know the traditions and they are unfamiliar with what everyone around them knows is familiar.

It occurred to me as we approached this wonderful time of the year that in their short lives Little Miss and Mister Man were not only experiencing OUR Christmas for the first time, this would be the fourth consecutive Christmas that they had spent in a different family with different traditions. Not only was our Christmas unfamiliar, every Christmas was.

And yes, they were overwhelmed. And yes, they found it upsetting at times. But I sat them down and I told them that I understood.

And I told them to remember the traditions that they've learnt this year because next Christmas and every Christmas after would be just like the last one because this family is forever.

The Journey (Part 4)

So, it looked like the end of the road was near. Kevin and Lana's social workers came to see us and we had a great meeting. Everything looked like it was going great, but they told us they were speaking to another couple after us. We left everything on a positive note and kept our fingers crossed. They told us no decision would be made until after Christmas so we spent the holiday season picturing these children in our house at Christmas and despite knowing that everything could go wrong very quickly we started to plan.

And go very wrong it did. In the first week in January we got a phone call from our social worker. They had decided to go with the other couple because they lived on a farm and we lived in a terraced house in the middle of a major city. They knew we didn't have a garden and couldn't compete with the space a farm allowed so it really disappointed us that they had allowed us to get our hopes up before dashing them against the wall. On the other hand we were really pleased for Kevin and Lana. They had found their forever family and would hopefully now have a chance for permanence. 

That's what the adoption process is like for adopters. Because the overriding aim is to protect the children (quite rightly) they are not informed of an adoption until it is approved. Adopters, however, are asked to imagine their lives with these particular children in it and then have it cruelly ripped away. We were lucky this was happening to us for the first time. We had heard of some couples who got to these meetings and were constantly being turned away for one reason or another (certain parts of the adoption process can be quite cutthroat, especially if you are after the more popular child profiles).

A week passed and we wallowed in self-pity. For the first time we wondered whether we could do this. To go through this every time would just take it out of us too much. We had a chat and decided to sleep on it.

It was a text from my brother which changed my mind. It simply said "Never give in, mate" and so we took a deep breath and decided to get back to it. Never give in. It's become our motto throughout our fight to become parents and my brother summed it up for us. All of the fighting we had done to get to this point, the constant knock-backs, the tears and happiness, all of it would be a waste if we were to give in now. 

We didn't take much to get back in the game. The very next day we received a phone call from our social worker. She had some children she had in mind for us. She'd held them in reserve until we found out the decision with Kevin and Lana and she wanted to know if we were ready to get going again. Some couples take a break after getting knocked back, but I thought that if we took a break now we might not get back up again. And so we asked her to send the profile over to us.

Never give in.

If I believed in fate or a higher power I would probably it say that something was guiding us over those days. There were so many reasons to turn back but we kept going and as soon as we read the profile we knew that these were our children. Kevin and Lana had sounded great and would've been a fantastic part of our family, but for these two the words just seemed to jump off the page. The sort of parenting they would need was exactly the sort we wanted to give. The problems they had are ones that we were perfectly suited for dealing with. Their likes and dislikes even seemed to fit with ours.

We told our social worker that we were interested the very same day and asked her to send our profile to the children's social worker. A couple of days later they told us that they were interested too and wanted to arrange a meeting. They also told us that they were not seeing any other couples at this point. They also told us that due to their circumstances and age if we couldn't make a match the children would be considered unadoptable.

We were determined. These were our children. I may not believe in fate but I do believe in love at first sight and I knew that I would love these children as soon as I met them.

We just had to impress the social workers first. 

The Journey (Part 3)

Previously on #daddydaycare...

Infertility

Rejection

Restarting

Approval

And now...

So we were approved as adopters. It felt like we had travelled the proverbial long and winding road. Our emotions were tattered and we were physically exhausted. It felt like the end of a road but in reality we hadn't even really started on the road, we'd simply been told that we were allowed to go on the road, like an adoption version of the M6 toll! It was like a scene in a movie where the heroes are trudging forlornly across a desert and climb what they think is the final dune to see the desert stretching out in front of them.

So we took a deep breath and on we trudged.

Matching is a clinical word for the process that adoptive parents and childrens social workers try to come together to match a child to the perfect family (and it's always thought of in that way, the adopters come a very far, and very correct, second to the needs of the children). Our social worker sent us profiles and we logged onto a website which contained profiles of children who are waiting to be placed for adoption (seriously, it's like a weird adoption-themed version of Facebook!).

I should probably now talk about how much Adoption has changed over the years. Years ago children were placed for adoption because of shame. Children born out of wedlock or born to young mothers, or a whole host of other reasons that society decided were immoral (which only goes to prove that society is an idiot!) were adopted at birth and the children were never told. Some of them probably grew up, led full lives and went to their graves never knowing that the people who brought them up were not their mother and father.

Now, with societies morals changing for the better children don't tend to come into the adoption system at such a young age, but this also means that adoption has changed. It is now not a means to find a home for babies whose parents do not want them, or are not able to look after them; it is now about finding a safe and loving home for some of the most vulnerable young people in our society.

This is because the children who are available for adoption have been removed from their families because of neglect, abuse or violence, because of this the children often suffer from Global Developmental Delay, Infant Alcohol Syndrome, drug addiction or severe cases or what looks like the descriptions I've heard of PTSD (I'm not a doctor so their may be a fancy name for this that I don't know about). This is because they have missed out on a lot of the early-years nurturing children need to fully grow and thrive.

Anyway, back to our search. We were sent profiles of various children who our social worker believed were good matches for us. If we decided that we thought they were too we would request the child's Permanence Report. The CPR is the report that details why a child was taken into care and put up for adoption. We read about instances of abuse and neglect that aged the both of us by a number of years. If you think the world is a horrible place, just wait until you read some of the stories that you don't get to hear about. 

I'm a positive person and it is a good job because the things I read made me very, very angry (me being angry is like Richard Dawkins saying that Christianity is right after all). I had to separate myself from the words I was reading and focus on the positive messages coming through the words on the page. 

We began to think of it less like what child do we want to complete our family, but rather which child would benefit most from the skills and the type of parents that we would be. We knew that one of our strengths lay in talking and listening. We'd been together for 13 years and hadn't ever stopped talking and listening to each other. A child who we could talk to and listen to was our preference and we'd always wanted two (and we didn't want to have to go through the approval process again!) so we decided that an older sibling group would be perfect.

We attended an event at our adoption agency and saw a profile of a pair of children we knew would be perfect. These were children we could help. These were children who would complete our family. Kevin and Lana were ideal. So we asked for more information. We found out that there was something in their history that we had previously said we would not consider so we had a long discussion about that and decided that in this instance we would like to proceed. The problem didn't seem quite so daunting when applied to actual children who needed our help that it did when presented in a list at our initial social worker meetings.

It wasn't long before we heard back. Kevin and Lana's social workers were interested in us too and so they set up a meeting. We'd climbed the last dune and we could see the oasis in the distance with all of it's lovely, refreshing water.

Not every oasis in the desert is real. Sometimes it's a mirage...

p.s. childrens names have been changed