A Baby’s Cry

by Cathy Glass

  Harrison and I were on the floor in the sitting room. Harrison was sitting in the middle of the playmat my parents had bought him as a Christmas present and I was kneeling beside him, showing him all the different activities that were incorporated into the mat. He was completely enthralled by the various colours, sounds and textures that the mat offered as he touched it. It was a lovely present and I knew it would keep him amused for hours

  At exactly twelve o’clock the front doorbell rang and Harrison looked up towards the sound. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I said. Standing, I went down the hall to answer the door.

  Rihanna stood in the porch, holding a shopping bag containing gaily wrapped Christmas presents and smiling. Her mother and father stood just behind her, looking sombre and uneasy.

  ‘Hello. Do come in.’ I smiled warmly.

  ‘This is my mother,’ Rihanna said, as they stepped in.

  ‘Hello,’ her mother said quietly to me.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said and shook her hand, and then Rihanna’s father’s hand. ‘Can I take your coats?’ I asked.

  Rihanna and her mother took off their headscarves and gloves and tucked them into their coat pockets and I hung their coats on the hall stand as her father hung up his own coat. Rihanna’s mother, much shorter than her husband and daughter, was dressed smartly in a blue two-piece woollen suit with matching accessories. All three of them took off their outdoor shoes, which was considerate, and paired them with ours in the hall.

  ‘Harrison is in the sitting room,’ I said.

  Rihanna led the way down the hall, followed by her parents and then me.

  ‘Hello Harrison!’ Rihanna cried as she entered the sitting room. ‘Have you had a nice Christmas?’ She knelt down beside Harrison. ‘What have you got there?’ she said, pressing the furry picture of the cow on the playmat. The picture mooed, Harrison grinned, and Rihanna pressed it again while her parents stood by awkwardly.

  ‘Do sit down,’ I said to them. ‘Can I get you a tea or coffee?’

  ‘No thank you,’ her father said on behalf of all three of them.

  Her parents sat on the sofa and I sat in the armchair as Rihanna continued to play with Harrison on the mat. Rihanna seemed to be reasonably relaxed with him, instinctively knowing what to do, despite the little time she’d spent with him. ‘Was this a Christmas present?’ Rihanna asked Harrison, referring to the mat.

  Harrison grinned and gurgled and pulled the tail on the woolly monkey, which made another sound.

  ‘It was a present from my parents,’ I said.

  ‘That was kind of them,’ Rihanna said, looking up at me. ‘Please thank them from me.’ Then to Harrison: ‘Look. I’ve brought you some presents too.’ Delving into the shopping bag Rihanna had brought with her she began taking out the brightly wrapped presents and setting them next to Harrison. Soon he was surrounded by parcels of various shapes and sizes.

  ‘He’ll need some help unwrapping them,’ I said.

  Rihanna took one of the presents and, holding it just in front of Harrison, began picking off the sticky tape, ‘Like this,’ she said to him, gradually removing the paper to reveal the present, which was a push-along truck. He grinned and Rihanna began to unwrap the next present.

  Having seen many presents opened the day before Harrison now had a better idea of what was required and was soon grabbing the paper and helping Rihanna unwrap the parcels, which made her very happy. ‘What a clever boy you are!’ she said, delighted. Then she looked at me again. ‘Do you think you could take some photographs of us? I’ve brought my camera.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said, standing and going over.

  Rihanna took her camera from her bag and, opening the lens, showed me which button to press. I knelt on the floor a little way from them and as Rihanna and Harrison began unwrapping the next present together I took a photograph and then another. Harrison, used to having his photograph taken, seemed to pose, and Rihanna and I laughed. I glanced at her parents, who were sitting stiffly upright on the sofa; her father was expressionless, while her mother was stony-faced. It was obviously very difficult for them; not only were they having to come to terms with having a grandchild but also that this could be one of the few times they would see Harrison if he was adopted, for Cheryl would have explained that nothing was definite yet.

  ‘Would you like a photograph of you all together?’ I asked, glancing at her parents.

  ‘That would be nice,’ Rihanna replied eagerly. ‘I’ll sit on the sofa between my parents with Harrison on my lap.’

  Rihanna stood and then carefully lifted Harrison from the playmat and carried him to the sofa, where her parents moved apart so that she could sit between them. I cleared away the wrapping paper from the floor so that it wouldn’t be in the photograph and then stood a little way in front of the sofa and looked through the lens of the camera. It could have been the perfect family photograph – with grandparents sitting either side of their daughter and her baby – except their tension was visible on their faces. Rihanna was smiling but her parents weren’t and looked very sombre; then Harrison turned away from the camera and playfully tried to grab his mother’s hair.

  ‘Harrison, over here!’ I called lightly, to attract his attention. He turned and looked at me and therefore at the camera. ‘On the count of three, smile,’ I said, which is what we always say in my family when taking a group photograph so that everyone is posed and ready and smiling at the camera. ‘One … two … three,’ I said, and took the photograph.

  I knew as I pressed the button on the camera that while Harrison and Rihanna had been smiling, and that her father had made a brave attempt to smile, her mother had remained expressionless. I handed the camera back to Rihanna.

  She checked the photograph on the viewer and then said: ‘Mum, you’re not smiling.’

  ‘What is there to smile about?’ her mother said quietly.

  ‘My child. Your grandson,’ Rihanna returned. Her father looked embarrassed.

  I wasn’t sure if I should offer to take another photograph for which perhaps her mother could be persuaded to smile, but Rihanna stood and, moving away from the sofa, returned the camera to her bag. ‘Thank you, Cathy,’ she said pointedly to me, and I felt the atmosphere grow even more strained.

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a coffee?’ I offered.

  ‘I would like one,’ Rihanna said. ‘Thank you.’ Her parents shook their heads.

  ‘Milk and sugar?’ I asked her.

  ‘Just milk, please.’

  I went into the kitchen, where I could hear Rihanna’s hushed but firm voice as she talked to her parents. Presumably she was remonstrating with them, for when I returned to the sitting room with Rihanna’s coffee, her father said: ‘I should apologize. My wife and I are still finding this all very difficult.’

  ‘It’s understandable,’ I said and smiled. Rihanna’s mother nodded stiffly but didn’t say anything.

  Usually when a baby or child is present the most formal or difficult of situations or gatherings becomes easier, simply because a baby or child is uninhibited and provides a focal point for the adults in the room and they relax. However, as Rihanna returned to sit on the floor and play with Harrison, occasionally reaching for her cup to take a sip of coffee, her parents stayed on the sofa, watching but not saying anything, and the atmosphere grew more and more strained. It was hardly surprising, therefore, that Harrison eventually grew fractious; children and babies are far more sensitive to atmosphere than many adults appreciate. He grumbled and moaned and lost interest in the toys, and then began looking around for me. I went over and checked his nappy but he was dry; then I fetched his beaker of water, wondering if he was thirsty. I passed the beaker to Rihanna so that she could give it to him, but he rejected it and kept pushing it away and grumbling.

  ‘He’s usually a very happy baby,’ I said. Then I realized it wasn’t the best thing to say, as it could have implied it was Rihanna’s presence that was upsetting him. ‘I expec
t it’s all the excitement,’ I added.

  Rihanna tried again to distract him from his grumpiness by playing with the mat and the toys she’d given him, but Harrison wasn’t having any of it and he niggled and whined. Then he pulled a face as though he was going to cry.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ Rihanna asked me, clearly worried at not being able to placate him.

  ‘He’s probably tired,’ I said. ‘We were late last night.’ Which was true, although Harrison had slept in and hadn’t appeared to be tired previously. ‘Try rocking him,’ I suggested. ‘He likes a cuddle.’

  Still kneeling Rihanna carefully lifted Harrison off the mat and, laying him against her chest, began gently swaying. It seemed to work for a moment and he was quiet and still, but then a minute later he began agitating again and struggled to be put down. I didn’t want to intervene and take Harrison from Rihanna, as it could have undermined her confidence by emphasizing her failure to settle him. I felt sorry for Rihanna; she clearly wanted this visit to be a great success and Harrison seemed to be working against her.

  ‘He’s tired,’ her mother said tightly after a moment. ‘We should leave.’

  ‘Yes,’ her father agreed, and stood.

  I glanced at the clock; there was still ten minutes to the end of their planned hour’s visit, but her parents were obviously ready to go. Rihanna, still holding Harrison, didn’t say anything, but picked up her shopping bag, stood and went out of the sitting room. Her parents followed in silence. In the hall they unhooked their coats from the hallstand, as Rihanna passed Harrison to me so that she could put on her coat. Harrison immediately stopped grumbling and sat happily in my arms, watching the adults put on their coats and shoes.

  ‘He just needed a change of scenery,’ I said. Her parents nodded.

  ‘Goodbye,’ her father said, one hand on the doorknob, as her mother tied her headscarf.

  ‘Goodbye,’ I said to them both with a small smile.

  Her father opened the front door and he went out with his wife as Rihanna hung back and turned to Harrison and me. I could see the look of determination on her face even before she spoke.

  ‘With or without their support I will look after Harrison,’ she said. ‘How long do you think it will be before I can start seeing him regularly?’

  I knew I had to be careful in what I said. Rihanna was in a fragile state and I didn’t want anything I said now being later misinterpreted. ‘I understand Cheryl will be looking into setting up regular contact when all the staff are back after the Christmas break,’ I said.

  ‘In a week, then?’ Rihanna said.

  ‘I don’t know, but I should think so.’

  ‘Good. I’ll tell my solicitor. I’m using the same one. My father’s solicitor wasn’t a specialist in family law.’

  I nodded. Rihanna kissed Harrison goodbye. ‘See you soon,’ she said to us both. Taking her headscarf from her pocket she looped it over her head and tied it as she went down the path, determination in her footsteps.

  I closed the front door against the cold and breathed a sigh of relief. While it hadn’t been the most difficult contact I’d ever supervised, it certainly hadn’t been the easiest. Rihanna’s parents clearly had a long way to go before they could provide Rihanna and Harrison with the support her father had originally offered, and part of me wondered if they ever could. Rihanna seemed determined to go ahead and parent Harrison without them if necessary, but I wondered if she fully appreciated all the practical implications of that. As a single parent and with no family support network Harrison would be wholly reliant on her for all his needs for many years to come.

  With another small sigh I carried Harrison through to the kitchen, where I sat him in his high chair and gave him lunch. After lunch I took him upstairs and put him in his cot for his usual afternoon sleep. Downstairs again I went into the sitting room and, opening my fostering folder, I began writing up my log notes. I knew Cheryl would want a detailed report of Rihanna’s and her parents’ visit when she returned to the office, so I wrote a dispassionate and objective account of the contact, which I would later type up and send to Cheryl and Jill.

  Harrison woke after his usual one-hour’s sleep and played happily for the rest of the afternoon. Adrian and Paula returned at six o’clock from their day out with their father, carrying their opened Christmas presents from him. They waved him off at the door and then excitedly told me all about their great day out and the pantomime they’d seen that afternoon.

  Harrison was very pleased to see Adrian and Paula too, and wouldn’t let them out of his sight. I thought how unsettling it must have been for him to see Adrian and Paula disappear from his life for the day and Rihanna and her parents, who were in effect strangers, appear in their place. Harrison was too young to understand that the change was only temporary and that by the end of the day his life would return to normal. When Harrison eventually left us to move to his permanent family – whether it was to adoptive parents or his mother – there would be a carefully planned timetable of introduction, allowing him to gradually spend more time with his permanent family and less with us. This is true for all children who leave a foster family to be adopted or return home and reduces the trauma, but it is crucial for babies and young children, who have not acquired the necessary language skills to have the move explained to them.

  We had a late supper that evening, seated around the table finishing off Christmas Day leftovers, and Adrian and Paula were still talking about the day out with their father. I wondered if Harrison would ever experience a day out with his father. I hoped so, for all children benefit from having a father figure in their lives even if their parents don’t live together.

  The following day Jill phoned and once we’d asked each other if we’d had a nice Christmas I told her about Rihanna’s and her parents’ visit. Jill wasn’t pleased that Rihanna’s mother had come and then made no effort to interact with her grandchild, although that wasn’t how I’d phrased it. ‘It was difficult for them,’ I said again.

  ‘Well, the grandparents will need to get their act together before the assessments start or it will count against them,’ Jill said, in her usual straight-talking manner.

  ‘Yes. Rihanna asked me when I thought contact would begin and I said about a week.’

  ‘At least. There’s only a skeleton staff in until New Year.’

  We wished each other a Happy New Year and Jill thanked me for facilitating contact in my home on Boxing Day.

  The children and I made the most of the winter break from school and, wrapped up warmly, went to the park when the sun shone or stayed indoors and played with Christmas toys and games when it rained. We also had some friends to visit who had similar-aged children to Adrian and Paula. I didn’t hear anything further from Jill or Rihanna until after the New Year – Tuesday 3 January, which was the first day most offices were back at work with a full staff.

  Jill phoned at two o’clock and, having quickly asked if we’d had a nice New Year, apologized for the short notice and then said: ‘Cheryl’s just phoned. It’s been decided that supervised contact between Rihanna and Harrison will take place on Tuesdays and Thursdays, four o’clock to five-thirty. They want it to begin straightaway. Sorry, Cathy, but can you take Harrison to the family centre at four o’clock this afternoon?’

  I glanced at my watch. ‘Yes, I can.’

  ‘And you can collect him again at five-thirty.’

  It was a statement not a question. Foster carers are expected to take children to and collect them from contact, often driving miles across the county and rearranging or cancelling their own family’s plans to do so. ‘Yes,’ I said again.

  ‘Will he need feeding?’ Jill asked.

  ‘Yes, he usually has his dinner during that time.’

  ‘Can you take it with you, all prepared, so that Rihanna can feed him?’

  ‘Yes, although it will have to be a jar of baby food tonight as I won’t have time to prepare and cook dinner before we leave.’ I briefl
y wondered when Adrian, Paula and I would find time to eat. ‘I’ll also take a change of nappy and baby wipes, in case he needs changing,’ I said.

  ‘Thanks, Cathy. I’ll confirm the contact with Cheryl now.’

  ‘Jill,’ I said concerned, ‘Harrison has only seen Rihanna three times, and very briefly. And it was at home with me. To go from that to one and a half hours in a strange setting could be very unsettling for him. Shall I stay to help Rihanna if necessary?’

  ‘I’ll mention it to Cheryl but part of the purpose of the contact will be to assess how Rihanna copes with looking after Harrison.’ Which did nothing to ease my concerns for Harrison and seemed unfair to Rihanna. Surely it would have been better for them both to have had a couple of short contacts at the family centre first while I was present or waiting out of sight to help if necessary. As it was they were both being ‘thrown in at the deep end’, but other than making the offer to help there was nothing I could do. It wasn’t my decision.

  Once Jill and I had said goodbye I went straight into the kitchen, where I took two jars of baby food (which I kept for emergency use) from the cupboard: a chicken and vegetable casserole and a jar of rice pudding. I also took a clean bib from the drawer and a plastic spoon from the sterilizer and put these, together with the jars of food, into Harrison’s baby bag. The bag already contained clean nappies, wipes, a change of clothes and other essentials, and was taken with us whenever we were away from the house. I would leave the bag with Rihanna at contact.

  Now came the difficult part, I thought: I had to tell Adrian and Paula where we were going and why. They were still unaware that Rihanna had seen Harrison or that she had applied to have him returned to her. With contact now starting I needed to bring them up to date, although I’d have to be careful what I said about Harrison’s future, as where he would live permanently was as yet undecided. Leaving Harrison on his playmat for a few minutes I went upstairs and into Adrian’s room, where he was trying to teach Paula Monopoly – a present he’d had from my brother for Christmas.