So it’s been a few months since I’ve blogged or tweeted or had any online interaction. Truth is, I tried doing the hand over the eyes thing, tried to push everything away so I could take it all in, tried moving on and distracting myself with ‘normal’ life. I failed.
You see J has been constantly on my mind. He was the last to be placed. He struggled the most. Watching his big brother go and meeting his new family, then again with his little sister and meeting her two new mums, to being in limbo as to what to expect for his own future. He was always, always so adamant that he wasn’t going anywhere. There wasn’t much hope not a massive hold out for a placement to be found. The placement order had already been extended so I was pretty expectant that I was to fight again for him. Long term foster care is a cruel option for any child let alone mine.
I blogged about meeting his adoptive mother. She reassured me that she understood that one of his biggest struggles was not having sibling contact. Eighteen months down the line and no contact has been made even though E & E and their adoptive families seem to be quite close.
When I received notice of the application for the adoption order I had full intention of opposing. Last I heard, alongside the lack of sibling contact was that he was struggling and needed immediate therapy because he wasn’t settling or coming to terms with the adoption. The adoption social worker who I have become close to had been off for months so I was living in the Unknown. There’s not been a day where I haven’t thought about him and worried.
I notified the adoption social worker of my intentions and she did her best to reassure me. But how was I to believe her? She’s been away and wouldn’t know. I met with her and talked. She understood why I wanted to oppose. At the meeting she arranged to meet with his social worker the next day. We all met. We talked. She told me about him and how he was doing . That therapy has helped and he’s in a really good place and that if we had met 6 months ago, she would have told me different. He’s doing well. They’re both doing well. I believe her.
My reasons for opposing, apart from the blatently obvious, were drifting away with the reassurance. I told him he was going to be so happy, and that this was a new adventure, I promised him that. I told him that she was going to love him as much as I love him. I promised everything would be okay. I didn’t, for one second, what him to hate me for lying later down the line. For him to think that I knew he wasn’t happy yet didn’t do anything about it. I just want what’s best for him. A realistic best.
The hearing was today (18th of November) and only yesterday I decided what to do. I had concerns that on the application I received it stated that the hearing was to be heard by the magistrates at county court. I wasn’t sure about this. I did not want to sit in front of 3 strangers who saw nothing but a case and a name and date of birth with an imminent outcome. I wanted some sort of consistency for all three and having had the same Judge twice before, I wanted the same caring, understanding and most empathetic man I’ve ever met to do the same for him as he did for his brother and sister.
On the train home yesterday I hand wrote a letter to him and took it to the court. I posted it because it was shut and expected nothing. Taking last minute to the next level. I expected to go to the hearing today, to sit infront of these three strangers and for the case to be adjourned for another day.
I did it again, I got within a few metres of the court and turned around, I know it sounds juvenile but I just really, really didn’t want to go. I saw the SW and we went in together. She had the same expectations as me . (Magistrates, adjourn, see you in a few weeks). We were told as soon as we walked in that there was a change in courts. That the Judge would be hearing the application. He had received my letter and had stopped his hearing. He even came down to the court that we were meant to be in.
I paced outside while the two social workers sat and talked to another one. I was thinking about surfing and cheese and pugs and everything and anything to stop me feeling sick and my head from spinning. My anxiety levels were ridiculous. We were called in. I walked in to the court to be instantly overwhelmed with the amount of people. The Judge was sat between the magistrates there. He told us to sit and started talking. He thanked me for my letter and instantly put me at ease. I briefly glanced at the other people in the room but not enough to ever recognise them again. I stared at him while he talked. He spoke about the letter and told me how he wanted to be there to do this. He commended my words of honesty and understood. He asked me if there was anything I wanted to say and I spoke. I can’t remember much of what I said because I was so heartbroken and the hurt of being there was so painful.
He spoke the words of the order. He granted the adoption order there and then. He spoke through a broken voice, I glanced up to see tears running down his face, I felt bad that I’d made them all cry. I hate crying. I thanked him. I left and broke. Not only was that one of the hardest things I’ve had to do it’s also the end. That was the last time I have to stand in that court that stripped me of my life, bit by bit by bit. He isn’t only mine anymore. He will no longer have my name. In a few weeks he will have someone else’s and be hers too and that fills me with so much sadness.
My life has been in limbo waiting for this. Because of his struggles I thought he would need me to fight. The anticipation of this happening has subtly taken over me. I don’t let people get close. I don’t make new close friends. Just acquaintances. I thought that if I was to go back to court to fight for him back, how would I begin to explain it all to new people?
I’m so relieved he’s happy and settled. It’s all I want. For all three to have nothing but happiness. For them to have nothing but stability and love.
Here is the letter I wrote:
You may remember that I wrote to you in April 2014 and again a few months later. In the first regarding E, I ended the letter by saying I was to receive two more letters of notices seeking adoption orders and that you would receive two more letters opposing the applications. I have stood before you twice and each time you have granted the order there and then. A first for a Judge here. You told me I set a president and many have been granted at an initial hearing since.
There has been quite a lengthy gap between the last two orders you made. J was the last to be placed. There was constant doubt whether or not an adoptive family would be found. He struggled. He struggled so so much. He struggled watching his big brother go, then his little sister.
You see, he was given a choice. He was asked if he would prefer contact with his siblings or with me. All the way through he was adamant he wasn’t leaving and not once succumb to the promise of a forever family. I saw J after this choice was given to him. It broke me and hurt me so much to reassure him that a new mum would love him just as much as I did and that he would be able to see them. My final contact was the hardest day of my life. He told me he wouldn’t go if I didn’t want him to. That he was scared. I told him he was going to be so loved, that this was a new adventure in his life. I promised him he’d be happy. I promised he would be okay.
I met J’s adoptive mother. I told her everything about him. Our life together, the good and the bad. She understood that one of his biggest struggles was not having contact with his siblings and had a massive understanding of how important it is for him. Especially as both E & E adoptive families have become friends.
We’re eighteen months down the road. Hes struggled a lot. My instinct has told me for the last year that he hasn’t been happy and it killed me to hear I was right. When I received the application for the adoption order I had full intention of contesting. I did not want him to think that I lied when I reassured him or for him to find out later down the line that I knew he wasn’t settling and not have done anything new about it. I notified the adoption social worker of my intentions and she has done everything in her power to reassure me. At first I was hesitant to believe. She’s been off work for months, how would she know? I was warned that that my life would be invaded and scrutinised again if I was to ask the court for leave, that everything in their power would be done to prevent it. It’s a shame it’s still a battle. We should all want what is best for him.
I met the social worker last week. She has had consistent contact with J. I heard about his struggles but also how well he was doing now with the help of therapy. I appreciated her honesty. All I want is for him to be happy and if that means moving on from me. So be it. He has a bond with her. He calls her mum.
To summarise, I would like the adoption application to be heard and granted by you. J is excited to have his ceremony and is finally in the right place. I really couldn’t begin to articulate how much I want him to be happy.
On the 28th of May, the day of my final contact with J, I received a letter. The first of three letters I am to receive. A court letter – notification of application for an adoption order. I knew I was due to get one, I had been given the heads up by the adoption worker, but as usual, the timing was impeccable. The letter went away to Jane. (I will tell you all about Jane shortly)
I managed to pick myself up a week later after goodbye contact, and was handed the letter back. It consisted of a routine notification from the Judge who heard our final hearing with a form to fill in. The form asked if I would be attending court and had a box to tick which asked if I wanted to oppose the application.
Many thoughts screamed in my head, ‘Of course I want to oppose the adoption!!! No I do not want to go sit in the same court room that broke me and took away my parental responsibility of MY children!! No I do NOT want to sit in front of a man who said on the first day of the final hearing without even reading anything that the outcome was imminent!! Go away, go away, go away.’
But it wasn’t going to go away and I’m pretty sure saying any of those things would be totally in appropriate. I sat and wrote a letter. I took it to the court and decided to go.
On the 10th of June, once I’d finally got to court (I turned round about 4 times), I met the adoption officer outside. We went in and she asked what floor we were on. They couldn’t see. I thought ‘brilliant, let’s go home!’ Turned out, it was under a different Judge. A Judge I’d never heard of or met. Dread. More disgusting, anxious dread.
We made our way up, I sat and stared at the clock. If I’m being honest I was half expecting our 10am listing to take place at midday. At 9.55 the clerk came, she made the usual mistake of assuming I was the social worker then looked with the head tilt when I said I was mum. We went in. We sat. My leg starting shaking. I kept saying to myself don’t cry, you’ll be done in 10mins then you can go home and cry. I even bought nice tissues. I’ve cried so much over the last couple of years I have scars under my eyes and nose, (I don’t think it does me any favours for my single status), but nice tissues are my favourite. The Judge came in, we stood, he told us to sit. Then he started talking to me.
He thanked me for my letter. He looked at me and asked what I expected from today. I looked around, I told him I wasn’t expecting to talk, especially to him. He went through my letter and read parts back to me. I spoke about my opinions, he spoke about his. I told him I wanted him to tell me it was all a mistake and that the children could go home. To go get E. But the fact of the matter is, he’s been with his adoptive parents for 9months, they’ve finally broken his attachment to me, it’s not as simple as having him home and me going back to being mum. His brother and sister wouldn’t be there, he’s been calling someone else mummy, it would hurt him too much and damage him and wanting him home with me and fighting for the off chance it would happen, would be nothing but selfish. Succumbing to that conclusion broke me.
He asked what I was reading at University, I shuddered. The adoption officer said ‘Law’. I didn’t want to answer, I couldn’t! I thought oh goodness, he’s going to think -‘What on earth are you doing that for!’ He asked why. I was honest, I told him initially it was to be obstructive, that I needed to understand why things happen the way they do in a family court arena. I told him I wanted to help parents realise the mistakes they made for their children instead of fighting. Arguing. Battling. Thinking of themselves. Giving them a realistic legal view. I babbled, I babbled a lot.
The Judge put his hand up, we both looked confused. He said he wanted to put his hand up, to volunteer to Marshall me when the time came in my final year of law school. He told me he commended me for my understanding and as heartbreaking as it was, I was putting E first. I told him I wished we had a Judge like him hearing our case. Tears started to roll down my face as he told me what he was going to do, the adoption officer handed me a tissue. A tissue covered in albus oil that I rubbed my eyes with, (I’m pretty sure, at that moment I thought I was blind and never going to see again). The Judge said what he was going to do, he was going to cut the back and forth and grant the adoption order there and then.
It hurt. A pain that makes your legs wobble and takes your breath away. A pain that doesn’t go away. I understood that it was the best way for me to have closure and I’m grateful, though resentful? Confusing.
I knew that when we left, the adoption worker would call E’s adoptive parents and tell them the good news. They’d be happy. I think they’d celebrate. I hope they’re happy. I pray that he’s happy. All I ever wanted for him was to be happy.
Here is a copy of the letter I wrote,
Dear Judge P,
On May 28th, I received notification of an application for an adoption order in relation to my son, E J B. Enclosed is the form which I have filled in, you will find that I have ticked the ‘yes’ box that asks if I would like to oppose the application.
For a period of time I was not able to care for my children, I put them at risk, I put myself at risk. Depression got me. Anxiety had me. I fought a fight I couldn’t win with the Local Authority. An unnecessary fight. I will always, strongly believe, that with help, a chance, I would still be a mother to my three children.
I have crossed the box with a realistic view that it won’t change the current surrounding circumstances regarding E, even though I have nothing but stability in my life – I’ve recently finished my first year in university, work full time and have set up a foundation to fund therapy for local careleavers. I am well aware that anymore significant changes will do nothing but harm, E and his stability, alongside damaging his adoptive parents having security in his permanence with them. Having said that, I by no means accept the adoption. I have never agreed with the decision making during care proceedings, nor with the final care planning and orders made.
I have no doubt in the fact that I will receive two more letters from yourself in the upcoming months, two more letters of notifications, two more applications for adoption orders. When the time comes you will receive two more replies saying I oppose the applications for those orders, kmowing each one will be unsuccessful.
I wish E’s adoptive parents a healthy, happy, and wonderful future.
Yours sincerely,
A B
Most stories start with a beginning. The beginning of expectations. Expectations that the story you’re about to read will draw you in and end with a happy ever after to inspire hope. I’m going to start with the end. Certainly not the ending of my story, but an ending to a chapter in my life. A chapter that I want to relive over and over again. A chapter that brought me happiness, adoration and love.
So, let’s start? It’s June 2014. I’m exactly a month away from 27. I’m currently in University reading Law. I have a cake business and I work in accounts to keep me going. I love tennis. I cook badly but bake brilliantly. I confuse myself a lot. People use the word ‘clumsy’ to describe me. I laugh inappropriately way too much. I don’t like seeing people cry, more so than others. I believe cheese and bread are my best friends. I eat grapes excessively, I don’t think of it as eating grapes though, I think of it as preventing future raisins. Some may call me a hero. I was a mother. My friends tell me I still am. I think it would be fair to say that right now? I’m pretty sure I’m not. Right now, they’re learning to call another person mummy.
Three years ago, depression got me. Anxiety had me. I put myself at risk. I put my children at risk. I suffered a break down.
I’ve had to justify myself quite frequently, justifying something I don’t understand is becoming more and more tedious. When I tell people that I had three children and now I don’t then have to explain that they’re adopted. Separately. They tilt their heads and look at me. Look at me and wonder what on earth I did. What I did to hurt them. I can see things running through their minds, usually in this order…
● Drugs?!
● Alcohol?!
● Violent boyfriend?!
● Did she hurt them?!
● She must of hurt them.
Then it’s usually this conclusion…
‘Actually, they’ve adopted her kids, split them up, she must of been on drugs, drank loads, with her abusive boyfriend and knocked them about.’
The truth is, I haven’t had a boyfriend in 5 years. I can just about take paracetamol. I do like gin, but very rarely. Physically I’ve never hurt my children, but my anxiety led them to be removed from my care which had the biggest impact on them. It hurt them so much.
This blog will go into detail about my experience of care proceedings. Social workers. Contact workers. The adoption process. The aftermath. I’m dealing with the situation at the moment by not talking. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t. But I’m going to try.
I’ve recently found talking to E and little E’s adoptive parents has helped massively in the way they’re parented. (I made them videos, if any adoptive parents would like to see then I’ll happily show you) So much so, that knowing how much it helped them it’s driven me to make sure that every birth mum NEEDS to do the same.
In September 2013, exactly a year after the placement order was to come to an end. E – 7, was found a family, a mum and a dad with a birth child, it came as a shock. In December 2013 little E, 4 was found two mummy’s. Last month J was found a single mummy. I met her last week. I love her.
(I’m pretty sure, that if I had 4, one would of gone to two dads!)
E's bump
birthmum 