Today is the day we meet our son

I have purposely not written lengthy blog posts about our journey since meeting him. I have given little hints on Instagram. The fact is, this is not my story to tell.

I didn’t think it fair that you guys knew things that he didn’t. He got told about us yesterday. I have no idea how he took the news. We meet him today, again I have no idea how we are going to be received. We’re prepared for the worst.

Foster care isn’t slow motions runs at each other with open arms. Foster care is cautious and heartbreaking. It’s confusing and just so darn hard. It’s joyful too, hopefully. All mixed into a muddy mess.

I can’t wait to see his face, having still never seen a photo, I’m desperate to see if my image of him is anywhere close. I can’t wait to hear his voice, see his mannerisms, start to learn him. Heck, start to love him.

Jim and I are nervous. We’re setting ourselves up. We’re both determined for this to work in the long term, in the short term our plan is to go with the flow. Roll with the punches. Take his lead.

I am so pleased we got here after all of those months. We first applied for foster care in May 2016! People that registered this Spring are at the same stage as us now. It’s mad, but I’m glad we were considered. This is a long term thing. We have to be right for him. Everyone else seems to think it’s a perfect match, I just hope that in time he feels that way too.

I don’t want to wish this week away. I want to soak in every moment and savour every piece of our lives and home as it is now. This is it. This will change us forever.

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Goodnight My Darling

We meet you tomorrow my darling.

You must feel terrified and confused and angry and lonely. So lonely.

We’re here. We’re thinking of you. Wishing we could scoop you up tonight and tuck you in and kiss you goodnight. But it’s another Mother’s job tonight.

We’re going to be rubbish tomorrow, but my god we’re going to try our best for you, my darling.

People keep telling me that you are lucky to have us, but I think it is us that are the lucky ones. Because of your trauma, you have fallen into our care. There certainly is nothing lucky about that. 

We are the lucky ones because we get to love you. 

It’s a strange thing, falling in love with pieces of paper. I don’t know your face or your name. But I feel responsible and protective somehow.

A mothers love, I guess.

Even if you never call me Mum, you are going to make me a Mother tomorrow, and for that I can never thank you enough.

Until tomorrow my darling.

Things will be different tomorrow. I promise.

We’re ready.

So our agency said our house is good enough to pass the Health and Saftey check which is the last piece of paperwork holding us back from bringing a little kiddo home.

I could not stop smiling all afternoon. I kept jumping and dancing and hugging Jim tight, thinking “how did we pull this off?”

It has been a crazy year renovating our house and going through this process. I remember the first time our social worker came over, the kitchen had been ripped out and the outside wall had been knocked down. There was dust everywhere and I was cooking on a gas stove on the floor. (See pictures)


Our Social Worker showed great faith in us and smiled, asking to see our drawings of what it will look like!

As time moved on, with Jim working every waking hour, we got closer and closer to completing our home. When we reached the point of decorating our spare bedroom I could not wait! I had been thinking about this room for a very long time.

It is now a beautiful bedroom with a mass of toys and books I’ve collected over the years. I can’t help but peek in every time I walk passed. I try and imagine what it is going to be like. 

Recently, my friend’s little girl played in the room as we caught up. It made my tummy smile to see these toys being used. She left a trail of chaos behind her and I soaked it all in. I left the toys how she had left them for a few days, not wanting to put them back in their place.

I’m so ready for my house to be a mass of chaos now. I hope when it does happen that I remember how desperate I was for it and not wish it away. I hope each time I tread on a Lego brick or find playdough behind the radiator, I remember how lonely  and empty my perfect little house felt without it.

So, we’re now at the marketing stage of the process. It’s when they let the Local Authority (LA) know about us. The LA will reply with possible placements they have. These will get sent to us for us to accept or decline. 

They are not expecting this process to take long, maybe a matter of days. They are expecting us to be popular as we are one of only two couples willing to place children with special needs in our agency (Which I think is shocking)

Thinking it may only be days, Jim and I had date night last night to celebrate. It might be our last for a while. It was lovely to speak openly about our wants and wishes, talking about what we are excited for and nervous about. We connected better than we have in ages. The relief of being at the next stage has lifted our spirits. It feels like it’s really going to happen.

I’m excited, more than anything, to see Jim become a Dad. He is going to be so wonderful, so kind and so patient. So understanding and so eager to do everything right by them.

I’m also excited to see family and friends, who have had updates for years, finally meet our foster child. Everyone will have a lot to learn from this little kiddo, I’m sure, me included.

I’m looking forward to reading bedtime stories, preparing school lunches, playing in the garden, bathtimes and generally being a full time stay at home Mum. I often feel like I’ve tricked the system knowing that I am getting paid to be a Mum. It’s what others could only dream of. I urge anybody that is interested in fostering to get in contact or follow along with our journey. Good foster carers are desperately needed.

So, I guess I will see you on the other side of Motherhood for my next entry. When I’m swearing at Lego bricks and praying for a chance to sleep!

Sounds like fun!

Infertility

We’ve been trying for a year.

If it worked straight away, I would be complaining of sleepless nights and sore boobs right about now. Instead we are booking doctors appointments to find out what is happening.

I don’t know what they are going to say. I honestly don’t mind either way, it’s just time we know now. So we can plan our family together, what ever that looks like.

It excites me that our children could be out there now, living and breathing and needing us now.

It sure is becoming a momentous year for us, in every which way.

 

Mummy’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the incredible Mothers out there. You do a relentless job and are incredible. I watch your love for your children. I can see you love them so much it hurts. I can see the excitement and joy in your eyes when they learn something new. I can see that your child loves you by the way they look at you too, by the way they need you and follow you. I can see that when they push you away you only hold closer. You fight for them. You work for them. You change your body for them. You change your life for them. They are your first thought when you wake and your last when you go to sleep. You are amazing. Thank you.

Being a Mummy.

So I keep seeing these ‘Proud to be a Mum’ posts on my wall.

They are lovely. I am pleased you are proud. You should be.

I just can’t help thinking about all of the women (and men for that matter) that are trying so desperately to be parents.

These posts must be so hurtful to see. Like motherhood is some exclusive club they aren’t invited to.

In fact, I think part of me is hurt by them.

 

I think what bothers me is that this one I keep seeing asks for a photo. Like you have to have photo evidence for it to count?

But… Let’s just say….

what if you were pregnant, but lost your baby before birth, you would not necessarily have photo evidence, but you still have a right to call yourself a mother.

What if your child has died or been abducted? You may not be able to kiss them goodnight, but you still have the right to call yourself a mother.

What if you devote your whole life to helping others. Serving the poor or caring for the needy. You would not have your own children, but you still have a right to call yourself a mother.

You could be so desperately trying for that positive test, wanting and wishing, being turned down at every avenue. You may not be ‘successful’ yet, but you still have a right to call yourself a mother.

Or….Like me, you may have ten beautiful and very special children in your care. You not only teach them but love them unconditionally and are devoted to them and their families. I may not be allowed to post photos on Facebook of these utterly gorgeous children, but I still have a right to call myself a mother.

It is the unconditional love you feel for others.

It is the devotion to serve.

It is unrelenting care you give.

 

This is being a mother.

 

So from one mother to another, stand proud and own this title….

 

because you earned it.