by Cathy Glass
Chapter Twenty-Five
Introductions
The following day at 1 p.m., Neave and her team manager Tony, Dana and her social worker Gaynor from the family-finding team, Jill and I all sat around the table in a meeting room at the social services offices, ready for the adoption planning meeting. In contrast to some of the meetings I’d attended in respect of children I’d fostered, the atmosphere was light and joyous. Tony was chairing the meeting and we began by introducing ourselves. Then Neave spoke first, referring to and outlining the placement plan she’d drawn up, which we’d all receive a copy of after the meeting. This document was a carefully structured timetable that, over two weeks, would allow Melody and Dana to get to know each other and bond. As Neave went through it, Jill made some notes, Tony took minutes, and Dana and I entered the dates and times in our diaries. I knew from experience what to expect and had kept these two weeks free. The pages of my diary quickly filled.
Neave would be starting the process that afternoon when she visited Melody after school to tell her about her adoptive mother and also go through the photograph album Dana had specially prepared for her, and had brought to the meeting. It showed pictures of Dana, her home and extended family and was Melody’s to keep. The next day Dana would visit us for an hour and meet Melody for the first time. She would return the next day and stay for longer, including dinner. The following day Dana would visit us again and take Melody out for dinner, then return and spend time with her – playing and helping with her homework, and putting her to bed. So the introduction would continue, though not every day; it’s so emotionally intensive that ‘days off’ had been built in when Dana would just phone Melody, and they had space to reflect and consolidate. Midway through the process we would meet and look at how the introduction was going and if there were any problems, when the pace could be slowed to longer than two weeks if necessary. Because Dana lived over a hundred miles away, she had booked into a local hotel.
I’d brought some recent photographs of Melody with me as was expected and passed them to Dana. She would have been given a photo of Melody when she’d first applied to adopt her, but that was often the only photo the prospective adopter had prior to the start of the introduction. She would have also received an updated copy of Melody’s profile, and of course Dana had had the benefit of seeing Melody’s home with me, which most adopters hadn’t at this point.
Usually the second week of the introduction for a child Melody’s age takes place at the adoptive parent’s home, with the child and carer visiting for longer each day, building to two separate overnight stays and then the move. However, because Dana lived so far away this wasn’t practical, so Neave had restructured the plan slightly. At the start of the second week Melody would have time off school and I would take her to Dana’s, spend some time with her there until she felt comfortable and then leave her to stay the night and collect her the next day. This would happen twice before the move, so I’d need to book into a hotel near where Dana lived. At the end of the plan was my visit to Melody approximately a month after the move, when the schools would have broken up for Christmas. Previously Dana had thought that she might then visit us at home when she took Melody to see her mother at the care home as it was in the same direction, but having thought it through and discussed it with Gaynor, it had been decided that returning to our house could be unsettling for Melody, especially after seeing her mother. It was decided that any future meetings between Melody and my family should be on neutral territory – perhaps with us meeting halfway.
At the very end of the meeting, when we were all relaxed and smiling, Gaynor asked how Amanda was and I had to say that she’d deteriorated considerably. ‘It’s so sad in someone so young,’ Gaynor said. ‘My mother-in-law has dementia and will need to go into a care home soon.’
I nodded sympathetically and Tony said it was frightening just how many people were developing dementia now and the numbers were on the rise. However, we finished on a more positive note with everyone looking forward to starting the introductions and the beginning of Melody’s new life with Dana. After the meeting, Dana was going to check in to her hotel, shower, have something to eat and catch up on some paperwork. We said a warm goodbye and I left the meeting first and drove straight to Melody’s school with that bittersweet feeling of happiness and loss. Yes, Melody was making a fresh start in life, but in doing so she was leaving us. It’s a feeling foster carers never completely come to terms with, regardless of how long they have been fostering.
Melody knew that I’d gone to a meeting at the social services – she often asked me what I was doing during the day, which I think was a legacy from having to worry about her mother and what she was doing or not doing. When she came out of school I said that Neave was coming to see us at four o’clock, so we said a quick goodbye to Miss May and left.
‘Not her again,’ Melody groaned as we crossed the playground. ‘What does she want now?’ It wasn’t that Melody didn’t like Neave – she did, or at least she was more accepting of her now – but a visit from any professional after school meant her evening was disrupted, when she just wanted to relax and watch some television.
However, it was important that Melody was in a positive frame of mind to receive the news Neave was bringing and, while I couldn’t tell her, I could get close. ‘I think Neave has got some good news for you,’ I said as Melody climbed into the car.
‘What?’ she asked, disgruntled.
‘She wants to be the one to tell you,’ I said with a bright, engaging smile. I checked her seatbelt, closed her car door and went round to the driver’s door.
‘I bet she’s found me that forever family she keeps going on about,’ Melody grumbled as I got in. But her expression said otherwise – that she was interested and looking forward to hearing what Neave had to say.
‘We’ll have to wait and see,’ I said, adding to the sense of expectation.
Melody didn’t mention it again on the way home but sat quietly in her seat, gazing out of her side window. However, once home, she went straight to Lucy – the only one in yet.
‘Neave’s coming and she might be going to tell me she’s found me a forever family,’ she declared, then watched to see what Lucy’s reaction would be. She trusted Lucy’s view, because she’d been through similar.
‘That’s fantastic,’ Lucy said without hesitation.
‘Is it?’ Melody asked. It was natural she’d have doubts at this stage – she hadn’t met Dana yet.
‘Yes, of course it’s good news,’ Lucy replied. ‘You don’t want to stay in care and have visits from social workers and have to go to reviews. You want to be like all the other kids at school and have a proper mummy.’ This was coming straight from Lucy’s heart. I remembered how relieved she’d been when her adoption had gone through and she was – as she put it – like all the other kids with a proper mummy: me. I kissed her cheek.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Lucy added. ‘Neave will have found you a really nice family who will love you and look after you forever.’
I felt my eyes fill, but Melody was smiling.
Ten minutes later when Neave arrived with Dana’s photograph album tucked under her arm, Melody was beside me in the hall looking forward to hearing what Neave had to tell her.
I went with them into the living room, fetched Neave the drink of water she’d asked for and then sat in one of the easy-chairs as Neave settled on the sofa beside Melody. With the album on her lap, Neave told Melody about her adoptive mother and then talked her through the photographs, reading out the captions beneath each one, which said a little about the pictures. Melody sat in awe, silent and wide-eyed, taking it all in. At the end Neave closed the album and gave it to Melody.
‘It’s yours to keep,’ she said. ‘Mummy made it specially for you.’ We would all be calling Dana ‘Mummy’ from now on; it’s normal practice to refer to the parents as Mummy and Daddy right from the start of the introductions as it helps the child and parents bond.
&
nbsp; Melody clutched the album to her as Neave continued by outlining the proposed timetable of introduction, beginning with Melody meeting her new mummy the following afternoon and ending with her moving in two weeks’ time.
‘You don’t have to remember all of this,’ Neave said. ‘Cathy knows what’s happening.’
Melody was looking serious and I threw her a reassuring smile.
When Neave had finished she asked Melody if she had any questions and, overwhelmed by all she’d heard, she shook her head. ‘Well, if you think of anything, ask Cathy. She’ll know or, if not, she can phone me.’
I saw Neave out and Melody wanted to go through her album with me, so we sat together in the living room and spent some time talking about the photographs. Then Melody went off to show Lucy, Adrian and Paula while I made dinner. They were all home now and I knew they could be relied upon to show the same enthusiasm for the photos that I had. They appreciated how important this album was to her.
Melody kept the album with her during dinner, placing it under her chair as she ate. All of this was very positive – the first stage in Melody accepting her adoptive mother. It can be difficult if the child refuses to look at the album or pushes it away, as they are in effect rejecting their forever family. It then takes longer for them to bond, but in my experience they always do accept them in the end, as they have been matched and not just randomly selected. Not all children in care who can’t live with their birth families are put forward for adoption, and reasons for this include that they might be too old or have such strong ties with their birth family that they couldn’t transfer their affection. Indeed, when Melody had first come into care adoption hadn’t been part of the care plan, but it had become appropriate, partly due to her mother’s deteriorating condition.
Included in my role as Melody’s foster carer was to prepare and support her during her move to permanency, a process that had now begun. Of course Melody may have doubts, especially to begin with, and that evening, although she cherished the album, she also began finding fault with the photographs and sounded us out for our views.
‘Do you really like her house?’ she asked, showing me the picture of the front of Dana’s house.
‘Yes, I do,’ I said. ‘It’s got real character.’
‘It’s very old,’ Melody said.
‘It’s Victorian, a few years older than this house. I like older houses.’
Then I heard her telling Lucy, ‘The garden isn’t very big.’
‘It’s not as big as this one, but there’s plenty of room for you to play,’ Lucy replied positively. ‘And you’ve got a park close by. Read what your mummy has written under that photo.’
‘The park is only a short walk away,’ Melody read, with Lucy’s help.
‘Exactly, and what do you see in the photo of the park?’
‘Swings and roundabouts and climbing frames,’ Melody admitted.
‘Fantastic.’
Melody asked similar questions of Paula and Adrian, who gave positive responses.
She was moving to a lovely picturesque part of rural England and Dana had included some shots of the area. Her house was on the edge of a historic market town, which featured in tourist guides. The centre of the town had original cobblestones, a museum, cottages with thatched roofs and a river. In terms of location and scenery, it was impossible to fault.
‘I wouldn’t mind moving there myself,’ Adrian said, which meant a lot to Melody. She’d sought our reassurance – our approval and permission to move on with her life.
One photograph Melody couldn’t find any criticism with was of her new bedroom. It was a double-size room, so much larger than her bedroom with me, and had been freshly decorated in pale lemon, with delicate floral curtains, matching duvet, cushions and a beanbag. A whitewood wardrobe, chest of drawers, shelves, table and chair still left plenty of space in the centre of the room to play. A lamp stood on the bedside cabinet and on top of the chest of drawers was a portable television.
‘Lucky you,’ Paula said. ‘I only had my own television this year.’ Which of course made Melody swell with pride.
Neave had told Melody she would be meeting her adoptive mother the following day and that if she had any questions about her, to ask me. She didn’t have many questions during the evening, but come bedtime when I was hoping for a quiet sit down she had plenty. ‘How tall is she?’ ‘Does she smoke or drink?’ ‘What time will I have to go to bed?’ As I answered Melody’s questions I told her I’d met her mother twice and that I really liked her and I knew Melody would too. Melody listened intently as I extolled Dana’s virtues and then at the end she said in a deadpan voice, ‘She sounds very nice, but I’m not sure about her being a social worker.’
I had to smile. ‘That’s her job. More importantly, she is going to be an excellent mother to you, not your social worker.’
Neave had told Melody that Dana had another child who’d sadly died, but Melody didn’t mention her to us that evening and we didn’t bring up the subject. Doubtless at some point she and Dana would have a conversation about Katie, and I knew that Dana would handle it sensitively and easily as she had with me.
Unsurprisingly Melody took a long while to go to sleep and kept thinking of new questions. I had to resettle her a number of times. Her last question was, ‘Will Father Christmas know where to visit me after I’ve moved?’
‘Yes, love, definitely.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I promise. I know your mummy and I know how much she is looking forward to celebrating Christmas with you. He will visit your new home for sure.’
Finally Melody snuggled down to sleep.
Like many children from poor backgrounds who come into care, Melody hadn’t ever had a proper Christmas. She’d never known the joy of decorating the house and Christmas tree, or hanging up a pillowcase on Christmas Eve and being too excited to sleep, safe in the knowledge it would be full of presents in the morning. Christmas for her and Amanda had been another day of trying to keep warm and find something to eat. Melody had told me that last Christmas they ‘got lucky’ as a local café owner who didn’t celebrate Christmas had opened and given them something to eat for free, which for me summed up the charity of Christmas.
It had been a busy day, so not long after Melody finally fell asleep I went to bed, and I thought of Amanda. The next couple of weeks would be very busy and I doubted I’d have time to visit her. I’d also need to ask my parents to stay with my family while I was away settling Melody with Dana. I knew Adrian, Paula and Lucy would be delighted to have their Nana and Grandpa stay.
The following day Melody was eager to go to school to tell Miss May her news, but after much deliberation decided not to take her photograph album in case it got lost. Neave would have contacted the school to advise them that Melody would be leaving and that prior to that she would need some days off to visit her adoptive mother and stay overnight. I didn’t see Miss May at the start of school, but at the end she came into the playground with Melody and said quietly to me, ‘Good luck for this afternoon. I hope it all goes well when she meets her new mummy.’
‘Thank you, I’m sure it will.’
‘I’ve told Melody we’ll miss her when she leaves but that she’s very lucky to have this chance of a new life.’
Miss May was such a treasure and instinctively knew the right thing to say. I made a mental note to buy her and Miss Langford, Melody’s teacher, a leaving card and gift.
Once home that afternoon, there was enough time for a hot drink before Dana arrived. Paula and Lucy were in and knew they should just carry on as normal. I’d found before with introductions (and contact) that it was better if everyone behaved as normal while allowing the child and their parents some time together. If the house was too quiet, with everyone on their best behaviour, it felt unnatural and awkward. So when the doorbell rang at exactly 4 p.m. Paula was busy telling off the cat who’d bedded down on her best jersey, leaving cat hairs all over it, and Adrian and Lucy
were in their rooms, competing to see who could play their music the loudest.
‘Can you turn it down a bit, please?’ I shouted up before answering the front door. They didn’t hear me. ‘Welcome,’ I said to Dana over the cacophony of sound. ‘Do come in.’ Melody was standing beside me.
‘Thanks, Cathy. And you must be Melody. Nice to meet you.’
Melody took a step back and looked her adoptive mother up and down.
‘Do I look like my photos?’ Dana asked easily, slipping off her coat.
‘Yes, you do,’ Melody replied.
‘Well, that’s a good start then,’ Dana said with a big smile. ‘You look just like your photo.’
As I hung Dana’s coat on the hall stand, Paula came by with the lint roller in one hand and her jumper in the other, on her way upstairs. I introduced her to Dana and asked her to tell Adrian and Lucy to turn their music down a bit.
We went through to the living room and the music above quietened. The photograph album Dana had given us was on the sofa – Melody had brought it down earlier in preparation, and she now picked it up and sat on the sofa. Dana joined her.
‘We’ve looked at the album a lot,’ I told Dana. ‘Melody has a few questions about the people in some of the photos that I couldn’t answer.’
‘Let’s have a look together then,’ Dana said. The album would be a good focal point and encourage conversation. Melody flicked to the first photograph she had a question about.
‘Who are all those people?’ she said, referring to a posed photo of a large family gathering.
‘Yes, there are a lot of people there,’ Dana laughed a little nervously. ‘There wasn’t space to write all their names, but I thought it would be nice for you to see all my family. It was taken at my cousin’s wedding last year. There’s my sister – your aunt – and her children.’ She told Melody their names. ‘Your cousins go to the same school you will be going to. You’ll meet them all when you visit me.’
