My Tactful reservations

So I've mentioned, a couple of times, that we've had mixed feelings from the start about the agency we're doing our adoption through this time, TACT (The Adolescent & Children's Trust).

And today, with our social worker not coming (again) for a scheduled home visit, seems like as good a time as any to write about my TACT misgivings and musings, feelings that have been bubbling away since the start. 

Beef The First
The course we had to do was not good. It was over two days, one of which was led by an experienced social worker who spent pretty much the whole day sitting down, delivering an extreme version of death by powerpoint (where he not only read word for word off the screen (which was the same as the handout we all had) but he also added loads of boring, slow, useless anecdotes) all from a chair in which he slumped to the extent of being almost laid flat. 

I was shocked on both days about some of the ways birth parents were referred to. Not actual real people, I don't think, but in pretend scenarios that we were supposed to imagine, it was, "Well Dad he was a useless bloke so he buggered off... Mum didn't have a clue what she was doing...the parents were catastrophic addicts..." That type of thing. So bad. Terrifying that this was coming from the professionals who are supposed to support them. Terrible that this is the tone they're setting for the prospective adopters who may or may not have to maintain levels of contact with these birth parents. There was little to no attempt to engender any sympathy or empathy for birth parents, which I think is a huge oversight. It's hard, but adoption is and always will be a bittersweet process. An adoptive parent's joy is made complete by the often heart-wrenching pain experienced by birth parents. This should be explored, expounded upon, discussed. 

Also, the other attendees - all couples, all wanting older children, most wanting sibling groups - cannot possibly have been well prepared by this course. When we did this process for our first adoption, we had a lot of useful content on the courses we attended. Tons on therapeutic play - massively helpful. Lots about trauma and how to approach it - hugely necessary. But both Hubby and I were genuinely surprised and concerned about how unprepared those other couples had surely been by the course - whether they realised it or not. We were hopeful that the Home Visits would help.

We were wrong. Well, in our case. Hopefully not in those others couples' cases.

Beef The Second

I cannot get over how blasé things seem during the Home Visits this time. Chatting about our lives in a roundabout way, irritating repetition of things we've told our first social worker, written in our self assessment, and already told our new social worker. We look back on our first adoption and can't believe the difference. Back then, we felt like our social worker Sarah was a family friend by the time we'd got a few Home Visits under our belts. She was interested in us, remembered things we'd talked about, shared from her experiences. She got to know us, knew our shortcomings, our weaknesses, and our strengths. She knew everything about our families, our home, our jobs. And she used that information to reassure, to explain things to us, to inform us about things that we may come across. She analysed our attachment styles, and questioned us about the sorts of things a baby could do that might push our buttons and cause us to get angry or frustrated. She prepared us. 

This time. Ugh. It's a paper exercise. A form is being filled in about us. It's box ticking. Last time, we wrote around 15,000 words for our self assessment. Sarah read this, chatted it through with us, and then used it as a base for writing the PAR. This time, our two TACT social workers have scoffed - literally - at this. We were sent one weeks ago to fill in - sparingly, we were directed - which we did, but it's been unmentioned and never referred to since. They can't believe we did that last time, wrote all those words, that we were required to do it. But what they don't seem to grasp is that it was good. In fact it was great. We needed time to reflect and we loved doing it. It prepared us. It helped us to 'nest' and get our lives ready for becoming parents. It helped us to address things that might be more relevant in becoming adopters rather than 'natural' parents. It was a perk that those who fall pregnant don't get. And here, that approach is scoffed at. Here, they would rather ask cursory questions with little exploration into who we are. 

Beef The Third
Annoying things like poor communication. It's been exacerbated by our first social worker moving away and us having a replacement, but still. Two missed Home Visits, both of which have required arranging unnecessary childcare as well as Hubby leaving work early. Going over things multiple times in an frustratingly inefficient way. Providing our references weeks and weeks ago, and them only being contacted now, with three weeks to go. Oh, and being told back then that our references didn't fit the bill (two of them being a married couple), so adding a third in, who spent time writing a wonderful reference, and now being told that was unnecessary: the married couple are fine.

And so I'm worried. I can't imagine how on earth we are going to be found a good match. We are not known. Apart from on paper of course. It gives me little faith in the service overall. It seems like a bit of a stab in the dark. Find prospective adopters. Write a perfunctory report on them. Find a child. Simple. I just don't think it *should* be as simple as this. We're talking about lives. Not data on a spreadsheet. Last time vs this time = prepared vs processed.

Whether these misgivings are a result of us being second time adopters, I don't know. Maybe I'm blaming it all on TACT when actually I should expect everything to be different this time. Who knows. But as I said at the outset, I'm doing this blog to chart my feelings throughout this process, so I'll just leave this here, and revisit at another point. If you've read this far - congratulations. That was a beast.

**Update. Having said all that, I've spent some time reflecting and praying this morning. Felt reminded to not allow this organisation to dictate how we're feeling about this adoption. I know that God is with me, and I know that I can trust him to have a hand in this process, and he knows us both far better than TACT ever can. Phew. And there is lots more *I* can be doing to grow excitement and lessen the disjointedness - blog, chat, pray, share, read books, attend courses, follow other blogs. In short, I'm feeling better.**

On Lulling

We're still very much in a lull.

Are we excited about adding to our family? Yes.

Are we keen to get to panel so that we can start looking forward to getting a match? Yes!

Is it the main thing going on in our lives right now? No... not really, no. 

Which is weird. And we've been trying to work out why this is how we're feeling. I feel a bit guilty about it to be honest; trying to explain it to our social worker earlier on didn't help either because I think I may have inadvertently given the impression that we weren't bothered about being in this process, which is not at all how I actually feel. Some writing is therefore in order, I feel, to help clarify what and why I'm feeling at the moment. 

Last time, we were first time parents. We had dealt with four years of trying to have a baby naturally (I say 'dealt with;' it's not the sort of thing you ever deal with in a concrete way, but you know...) and were pleased to have landed on the adoption process runway. It wasn't a quick decision or something we rushed into; instead it had been on our minds and had been growing in our hearts for a few months as we slowly came to the conclusion that we weren't going to fall pregnant. And then it was all pedal to the metal: home visits, paperwork, courses, medicals, paperwork, phonecall, questionnaires, observations, paperwork, home visits, forms, courses, etc. It wasn't all consuming, but it was consuming. And that was fine. We enjoyed having a focus, being busy with an end point in sight. But this time, partly because the process is different here (more about this in another post), and partly because we have Bounce, and partly because I'm working doing something I really enjoy instead of slogging away as an unhappy teacher; for all these reasons, and probably more, it doesn't feel like it's taking up much space in our lives. 

I'm not sure how I feel about this.

It's possibly healthier. I don't think obsessing about anything is a good thing, whether it's your children, your diet, your job, your house, your bank balance - it's not healthy. Balance is good. And so while I don't think we obsessed about it last time, it probably overtook a little, which was fine, but it's nice to feel this time that we can still pursue other things, and hopefully have more a patient outlook as we wait. 

But then also it feels wrong. We are having a baby. We don't know when, we don't know anything really - but we are having a baby, and this is Big with a capital B. I don't have that excitement bubbling away inside, I don't feel broody really, and Hubby and I don't often talk about it. Surely we should do!? 

It doesn't help that today's home visit was our first in almost a month, and we've not had any homework to complete in that time apart from an online DBS application which takes all of about five minutes. So in the most literal terms, it's taken up next to none of our time over the past four or five weeks. Also I've started a new job, doing some part time work, which has been hectic and busy and really fun, so that's taken up a lot of my thought-life, as well as my spare time. 

And perhaps, finally, it's also to do with others. If my belly were growing big with impending child, it would probably naturally become the focus of lots of conversations. Friends and others asking how I'm doing, checking for updates or scan photos or whatever. But with a prospective adoptive parent, those small-talk conversations which shunt the upcoming baby into the forefront of your mind (if they're not already there!), don't really happen in the same way. Perhaps, with adoption, it's easier for friends and family to forget. Perhaps they asked me how things were going last time we chatted, and they don't feel the need to ask again yet. Perhaps they don't know how much I even *want* to talk about it. Perhaps they don't want to offend, or are fearful of using clumsy language or upsetting me or something. All of these things are fine with me, in fairness. I wouldn't want it to dominate, in any sense; I wouldn't want to sound like a broken record. But perhaps these reasonings do help me to understand more about why it feels like we're in a bit of a 'dry patch.' 

So. Some conclusions: 

 - I'm not obsessed about the adoption: Good Thing

 - I'm excited deep down: Good Thing

 - I have lots of other stuff going on in my life: Good Thing

 - I don't talk to Hubby about it very often: Not a Great Thing - - - do this more

 - I don't pray about it enough: Not a Great Thing - - - do this more

No Mascara Needed

I'm feeling nervous! 

Our two days of adoption course training are nearly upon us, and I'm feeling nervous. Anxious. On edge. 

Not because I don't know what to expect; I do, largely. Although presumably some of the content will have changed since last time we attended the same course, I imagine that a lot of it will be similar. And that's what worrying me. 

Last time, I found the two day course full-on, intense, and a lot to take in. They bombard you with quite a lot of information, which you try to absorb while also sussing out the other attendees and trying to make the most of the chance to make friends with others who are potentially in a similar situation as you. 

The course covers lots of things, and a particularly impactful element for me was the part that focussed on birth parents, and reasons for children going into care. You look at the reasons children may be removed, and the way the process works. It's to build empathy, to make sure adopters feel for those whose children are taken away from them. This element of the course, its very inclusion in the course materials, is absolutely right and it's good and it's heartbreaking and it's bittersweet. 

And now I've got to face it again, but this time from the point of view not as a newcomer, with no point of reference, but as a mummy with a son who was taken away from another mummy. As a mummy with a son whose life could have been so different. When the course leaders talk about the reasons children are removed from the birth families, how will I not be thinking of Bounce, and his vulnerable start? When they talk about the issues and difficulties faced by birth parents, how do I not think about Bounce's birth parents, and what they mean to him and what they were to him? 

We knew at the outset of this second journey that it would be emotional - because it's beautiful, and exciting, and difficult, and life-changing, yes - but also because it's closer to home now, in a new, different sense. It's a reminder of things that, rightly or wrongly, you forget about in the day to day busyness of mummy-ing and life-ing. It's a reminder of, 'Oh, yeh - Bounce is adopted....his life could have looked so different...I wonder what he would be like if...' aaaand let the sobbing commence. 

So. I will cry. I will not wear mascara. I will take tissues. I will cry, maybe a lot. And that's okay. A deep breath, a quick prayer, a glance at my phone to see Bounce's happy, safe, gorgeous face, a squeeze of Hubby's hand, a nose-blow, and I'll be okay.