I’ve been pondering a lot whilst unpacking boxes over what to say about this move, this home. A brief caption could never convey the full weight of the story or the emotions, and I’ve been reluctant to post a quick #soblessed and leave it at that.

Of course we absolutely are. So very grateful, and so very blessed. This home is beyond what we could have dreamed of and hoped for. But I’m familiar with the feelings that type of post can conjure up on social media, when that doesn’t feel like that’s your story. And for so long, it didn’t feel like mine, either. So here is the back story to how we got here, and I tell it because if you’re in the middle of your story, and can’t see a way through, maybe my messy tale can encourage you. There’s more going on than you might think.

We bought our first home the year before we married, in the days when mortgages were being given away with cornflakes. Ok maybe not, but it was remarkably easy for two naive twenty somethings to get a 105% mortgage. We had good jobs, but I brought university debt, and my poor relationship with money, and that easy mortgage was a catalyst for tricky years ahead.

Fast forward four years and we’d filled our little home with two small curly haired girls, but no means to upsize. An opportunity to rent a bigger home at a reasonable price came, and so we made the decision to let ours out and rent instead.

And then came the recession, and our mortgage company increased their rates and rental costs escalated rapidly, and my spending continued as we juggled three small children and special needs and a whole heap of shame. We hit the point where we realised we would never clear more than the interest of the borrowing we’d acquired, and to have the chance to open our home through fostering as we longed to do, we needed to take action and responsibility. So we approached CAP and began a debt management plan.

And we plodded our way through paying it back over the next six years. Through four enforced house moves, through months without tenants, through the juggle of emotions that came with fostering and welcoming and saying goodbyes.

And I struggled and wrestled with it all. I love home. I love family. I love beauty in design and I love creating a space where we can love one another and share it with others.

But those feelings got distorted and became too important, and feelings of ugly jealousy and envy of those who had what I didn’t, and of ungrateful disillusionment over all I did have were all too often the primary emotions in my heart.

Those years passed by, with learning through the hard and the good, and we welcomed our three youngest to our family. Our debt was paid off the month we went to adoption approval panel, and our finances changed significantly.

But the dream of owning a home of our own still seemed too unlikely, too distant. Debt management plans affect credit ratings for years, and we didn’t know if we’d get a mortgage as we rapidly approached our forties. And I was reluctant to dream of a home we could call our own.

But timing is everything and God’s timing is beautiful and a few months into lockdown we were approached by someone keen to buy our little home. Wondering if now was the time to try, we nervously enquired over a mortgage – and were approved.

Still, the idea seemed ridiculous. We lived in one of the most sought after locations in our area, and to find a house that would fit eight of us at a price we could afford seemed beyond hope. We like the countryside, and looked further afield, but to move our children miles away from friends seemed to defeat the object of them being settled, and of being part of a community where we could share our home.

For various reasons, we’d never considered the city. We’ve lived by a river with views of fields and hills for most of our lives, and urban living was something we’d never considered. During that time there was a week where I had several conversations with friends who lived nearer the city, who were enthusiastic and genuinely grateful to be where they were. This sparked a wondering of whether we should be more open minded, and we began widening our search area, and considering how it might work with schools and friends and work and kids. I offhandedly said one day the name of a road that would work well for all those logistics.

Then the next day this house popped up on Rightmove. On the very street I’d named. In our price bracket. Too beautiful to dare to hope, but so perfect for our family it seemed crazy not to try.

That was in May this year. We viewed it, put our offer in, and waited. Friends prayed. We prayed. People kept telling me they’d seen it online and how lovely it was, but I couldn’t quite believe it would actually happen. Until finally, on October 11th, we were handed the keys to this house, our home.

I wanted to share our story because I feel almost embarrassed by this home. Like a bit of a fraud to be allowed to own it.

But I also wanted to share our story because this is what I’m realising – we are very blessed to be here, indeed.

But, the important thing I needed to see, was that we were no less blessed when we were given a month’s notice to move out of a rental house. When our tenants trashed our old home and we had to redo it all. When we didn’t know whether babies we loved would stay or go. When we watched other people’s stories with aching hearts and dreamed of where ours might go.

Blessing comes in so many ways. And the truth is, those years have taught us and grown us and shaped us, in ways that wouldn’t have happened if things had gone differently. Through our mistakes, through our hurt, and through so many unexpected moments of provision and joy, we’ve learned lessons that have changed us.

The truth is that if I move into this home and believe it will be all my dreams come true, it won’t be long before I’m looking elsewhere for happiness. Because we are living in the in between of a broken world that isn’t yet complete, and both my home and my heart reflect that. Within days of owning our home, plaster had fallen and fresh paint peeled and kids messed up the insta-worthy scenes, and the cracks in my dreams and my misdirected hopes showed up as quickly as those on the grey walls. And those moments are teaching me too. There is a God who delights to heap goodness on me, through reading nooks and storage walls and breakfast bars. But He also loves to heap goodness on me as I face the mess and the setbacks and the frustrations and the stress in our family, and as I see Him there with me in them. Walking alongside me and offering Himself in place of my broken dreams, His love to restore my fractured relationships.

My prayer through this year as we waited was that if this was to be our home, we would never forget Who made it possible, and we would open our door wide and offer shelter to those around us. Because whilst I am beyond grateful that this home is for our family, and we get to enjoy it, and our children can feel secure and have a greater sense of permanence, I don’t believe it’s ours alone. We, humanity, are part of a bigger family. A bigger world. If this city street is where we call home, may I never be so precious about the house itself that I sit behind a closed door and lose sight of the people around me. Because being home is about so much more than a building.

‘Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.’ (CS Lewis)

Another child back to school means a reclaiming of my workspace.

Four down, two to go…but as grateful as I am for the steps toward ‘normality’, a piece of my heart goes with each of them. This year has changed us. All of us.

I didn’t do a Mother’s Day post, because I didn’t know what to say. I’m all too aware of the hurt, of the pressure, of the pretence. Of the smiling mothers who are crying behind the camera, as well as all those crying at the photos. So I didn’t feel authentic to do a ‘blessed’ post, which didn’t convey the volume of emotions I actually felt yesterday. The truth is:

I am grateful.
I feel weary.
I am blessed.
I feel overwhelmed.
I am hopeful.
I feel helpless.
I am in love.
I feel pain.

So I stopped and sat and thought about being made in God’s image-male and female. A mother heart comes from God. So how is God like a mother to me?

He is tender.
He is gentle.
He is protecting.
He is compassionate.
He is the counsellor.
He is the teacher.
He is the healer.
He is the provider.
He is life-bringing.
He knows intimately.
He forgives completely.
He loves unconditionally.
He sacrifices endlessly.

We talk about mum guilt, and isn’t it a real deal? But I find peace when I know, I will never be enough. I love them to the point of pain, but I cannot be everything to them. I would give my life for them, but I cannot stop the world from hurting them.

But I know One who can. And He is enough. And when I come to Him, as His child, He gives His all, and He brings peace.

‘For thus says the LORD: “Behold, I will extend peace to her like a river, and the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream; and you shall nurse, you shall be carried upon her hip, and bounced upon her knees.
As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you.’- Isaiah 66:12-13

Hello again on a damp Tuesday evening! I thought this morning how much I’d enjoyed writing last night because it was in no way related to Covid. It made me realise how much our lives have been taken over this year. But enough of that, we enjoyed popping to our favourite cake shop today to buy cupcakes, an extra special after school treat! Some of us opted for traditional autumn clothing of bobble hat teamed with sunglasses.

But back to National Adoption Week. A lot of people are understandably anxious about the assessment and approval process, so I’ll try and talk those things through a bit.

Q: I’ve heard that to adopt you need to – have a spare room/have a year’s savings/have a large support network/have never lost your temper/be a super-human.

Ok so maybe I stretched that a bit, but there are definitely lots of things people have heard about the kind of person who will be approved to adopt, a lot of it not true. The Adoption UK’s campaign this year is #Youcanadopt, to try and break down some of those perceived barriers.

The first one is true, however. You do need a spare room to adopt. The reason for that is to give an adopted child a safe and private place. That doesn’t mean that siblings can’t share, however. We have our two youngest boys in one room, our two oldest girls share, and Toby and Miss M have their own rooms.

Beyond that, however, the assessment is definitely not looking for perfect people. It does dig deeply into personal stories, because it is essential that children are placed in as safe and stable a home as possible. But the assessors and panel know that most people have complex lives. People of any faith, any race, any sexual orientation, single or in a relationship can adopt. Financially as far as I’m aware, there isn’t a set requirement for savings. Finances are assessed, but that doesn’t rule people out. When we began our fostering assessment we were in significant debt, and were in a debt repayment programme. The fact that we had recognised our difficulties and taken steps to get ourselves in a better financial position, and were able to show how we would be able to provide for a child, meant that we were approved anyway. When it comes to adoption, there can be financial support in various ways, and there’s no shame in enquiring if things get difficult. The welfare of the child is paramount, and no one can predict at the beginning of a placement what might happen in the future (pandemics, for example!).

In a similar way, many of the trickier things in people’s pasts are not a barrier. What the assessment looks for is that people have thought those issues through, have learned from mistakes, have worked through challenges, and have been honest in the assessment process, and are self-aware enough to know what their limitations may be. No one is perfect. We all have a past. And often the very challenges we’ve been through ourselves may be the experiences that can make us the right parent for our children.

Support networks are valuable – most of us know the old African proverb ‘It takes a village to raise a child.’ Parenting is incredible – but can be incredibly relentless and wearing. And parenting children with a history of trauma can definitely bring challenges along the way.

However, I will say that I think support networks can also change and grow over time. We are very lucky in having families nearby and many close friends through church and schools. But when I think back to our support network that we described in our fostering assessment 9 years ago, there are definitely changes. People move away, friendships change, family situations alter as people get older. And new support comes in too. There are new friendships that are incredibly special, there can be relationships formed through toddler groups, adoption groups, and school communities that you wouldn’t be able to anticipate at the beginning of this journey.

So I think again the important part is to consider those things. If you are a single adopter, it will be essential to have people you know would be there to give you a break to recharge batteries. If you’re in a couple, you need time together to keep being a strong team for your child. If you work, knowing who you could call for emergency childcare will help. But those things aren’t set in stone, and not having all the answers doesn’t mean you wouldn’t get through, it’s about showing an understanding of the value for the child’s wellbeing being linked to your own wellbeing along the way.

Q: People have told us we need volunteering experience, why? If you get pregnant you might not have experience of children!

I hadn’t heard this before, but I can see the sense in it. As a new parent you question everything, and as adoptive parent there are even more reasons to question what is normal. So to have some understanding of children will help. And the odd nappy change or cleaning up vomit experience wouldn’t go amiss either!

However, on the flip side, I grew up with five younger siblings, was a qualified midwife, and I still felt clueless when presented with my firstborn. Who clearly had not read the books I’d read about the need for her to nap 2.5 hours every afternoon. I was lucky if she slept for 15 minutes. And then I spent the remaining time trying in vain to get her back to sleep, because the book said so. Ultimately, children are unique individuals who don’t fit a handbook, and we’re all learning as we go. Maybe having too many preconceived ideas and pressures can cause more anxiety than benefit.

Q: Is there anything you weren’t told before you started the adoption process that you wish you had been told, and do you have any advice to give someone looking to start it?

I think when I look back now, particularly with experience of sitting on the other side of panel too, I think it would be to know that they really do want to approve adopters! I think because the process is so in depth and intense it can feel like you’re constantly having to prove yourself. I used to tell Liam before the social worker came to make sure he didn’t tell any jokes!!! The ironic thing being that both our assessing social workers had a really good rapport with him, and commented really positively in our assessment about his sense of humour (they clearly hadn’t been married to him!). Obviously the process needs to be like that because the children’s needs and safety are the central thing in it all, and finding the right people who are committed and caring and understanding of the issues at stake is essential. But at the heart of it, social services have children they desperately want to find homes for, so they certainly are not out to reject potential families for the sake of it.

I think if I had advice to give someone starting the process, it would be that as you go through it all, the meetings, the waiting, the stressful moments when it feels like it will never happen, to keep in focus that at the centre of it all is a small child. And that small child needs someone who is willing to risk their own heart to help the child heal. Who is courageous enough to face the unknown to offer safety to a little one who’s come from the unthinkable. Who is willing to choose to love to a child who has no idea how to.

I think that’s what has helped me through the risks and unknowns and frustrations of the process, and helps me through the hard parts of parenting.

And I wish I’d known how much I could love them.

‘A child born to another woman calls me Mummy. The magnitude of that tragedy and the depth of that privilege are not lost on me.’ (Jody Landers)

I’ve been blown away by all the questions I’ve had over the last 24 hours! Really practical ones, thought provoking ones, ones from people I know, ones from complete strangers. I love that people are thinking about adoption, talking about it, stopping to consider. I know that it’s not for everyone, but I also know that the children who are waiting need people to stop and question if it just might be for them.

I thought I’d break the questions into some different topics, and write a couple of posts this week talking about them, starting, well, at the beginning. I had several questions about how to know when you’re ready to consider adoption (particularly if you have other children already), about gaining experience beforehand, and about the approval process and panel.

So I have to be honest in this, because we didn’t adopt via the traditional route. As we were already foster carers, and the two little ones came as a foster placement, we didn’t do the normal enquiry/information evening/assessment type road. Instead we had a ‘child-specific’ adoption assessment, tailored to the particular children we were applying to be approved to adopt.

However, five years before that, we did go through the assessment process to be approved to foster. We did the enquiry, the initial visit, the information evenings, the assessment, the panel. And nearly a year ago, I became an Independent Panel member for a Fostering Service. So although we didn’t do the adoption assessment traditionally, in a lot of ways its not dissimilar to the process to fostering approval, and I now have more of an insight into how panel consider assessments too. So I hope that this is still useful!

Q: “How do you know when it’s the right time? I sometimes feel at capacity with my children already!”

Brilliant question!!! Obviously the answer to that will be so unique to different families, but I can share my experience.

We had Megan and Maisie a year apart, and then Toby 2.5 years later. When I went back to work as a midwife, Maisie was still having a lot of health input following her cleft palate and repair as a baby, and it was a real challenge to care for three small children whilst juggling those appointments and shift work as a midwife. The maternity service was changing to 12.5 hour shifts, and I was reaching a point where I felt that I wasn’t caring well for either my family or my patients. When I was at work, I had my children and their needs on my mind, when I was at home, I felt anxious about the women and babies I had looked after, or what the shift ahead might hold. So we were getting to a point where I felt stressed most of the time, and we started considering what I might be able to do instead. Fostering was already something we both felt a desire to get involved in, but we’d thought it was something older couples did as their children left home. But the more we talked about it, the more we wondered whether it might be a good time to consider it. We already had a home full of toys, our birth children might make a foster child feel more comfortable, and although we would be adding to the busyness, it would mean I could be at home and available for appointments and school runs. And it would enable our birth children to grow up with the idea of sharing what we have been blessed with, and of choosing to go out of our comfort zones to care for others who are in need, even if that is hard at times.

So after looking into it a bit more via the council websites, considering the financial implications, and chatting to friends who fostered and a Social Worker friend, and praying, we just decided to bite the bullet and enquire. For us it was about trusting that God would make it clear along the way whether it was the right thing at the right time.

In terms of capacity, and the implication of adding more children to our already busy and still young household, I think the place I came to was that capacity grows as you stretch it. From the moment we brought Megan home as a new baby, I felt overwhelmed and incapable. I didn’t expect to feel like that, but my mental health was struggling, and she was a challenging, non-sleeping, collicky baby who much preferred her father to me! So when I became pregnant again when she was four months old, I couldn’t imagine how on earth I would manage. I would stand in her bedroom in the night rocking her to sleep and crying that I wouldn’t be able to manage. Fast forward nine months, and Megan was an early walking/talking one year old, and Maisie arrived with her undiagnosed cleft palate. And it was hard!

Yes, it was hard, but it also grew me. I learned from all the times that I would phone Liam in a stress to find out when he’d be home, that most of the time, in the 15 minutes it took for him to get back, the crisis would have eased. So I learned to ride out the 15 minutes and see how we were getting on. Or I would just put them in a bath, the magic cure for many toddler (and child. And teenage.) meltdowns.

So by the time we had Toby, my children and my perspective had changed. And he was a different personality again. He fed well. He slept well. All night, and for three hours in the afternoon.

So not longer after he turned one, because we knew the process would take a while, we felt that we were at a place where we would enquire.

It took 18 months from that initial enquiry to being approved, so in that time things had changed a lot again. Toby was 2.5, and the girls were in school, so in that sense it was more manageable.

But the truth is, I often feel I’m at capacity. With one, with two, with three children. When we had a foster child, when they went. When we had a new foster baby, when we went back to three children. When we had five and then six. In truth, most mornings by the time we’ve dropped them all off at school I think ‘this is too much. I can’t do this.’

My experience is that it’s not me and my capacity or ability that enables me to do the hard things. In the hardest moments, God has been there. And the hardest moments are often the ones that have taught me the most. Taught me that on my own, I won’t be able to do it. Taught me to be humble and ask for help. Taught me to acknowledge my humanity and inability to be a perfect parent, and to know that I am held by a perfect Father God, who not only loves me, but loves these little ones more than I can, and promises to gently lead me as I open my arms to them.

So my suggestion would be to think, to talk to others, to research, to consider how life might change day to day, to pray, and to make that enquiry. Making that first phone call doesn’t commit you to anything, the process is long and in depth, and at any point along the way you can choose to delay the process or to stop. And that won’t be frowned upon, because at the end of the day it is important for these children that adopters are able to be fully committed to them. And if you keep going through the process, and welcome a new little one into your home, yes you’ll be stretched, but your capacity and you will both grow along the way.

Well it seems I managed to find a lot to say for one question! I’ll finish here and look at some others relating to the process in a different post. Here are some examples:

Q: Is there anything you wish you’d known when you went into the adoption process?

Q: Would the complicated parts of our personal story impact our chances of being approved? (eg finances/mental health/addiction history/impatience/older child with needs)

More to come tomorrow!