After the birth of our son fifteen years ago we tried for eight years for another baby, before deciding to adopt. Once Winnie Whirwind became part of our family, my aching desire to have another baby disappeared. At times, especially on a bad day, I couldn’t think of anything worse. Was this self-preservation? Probably!
I know I’m very lucky to have my two gorgeous, if sometimes demanding, children. Twelve months ago we were happily pootling through life, with the odd moment of stress thrown in!
But that all changed, when two social workers arrived on our doorstep with a photograph of a little pink bundle. It was Winnie’s newborn sister. They wanted to know if we wanted to be her Mummy and Daddy. Those of you that have read my blog will know this wasn’t meant to be. After 10 months of waiting and hoping Little Lou went to live with her grandmother.
A few weeks later, when we were still considering our options, the same local authority dangled another carrot, another newborn baby that needed a forever family. This time a little blue bundle. All very straight forward they said, no complications, no birth relatives.
They only problem was, as with Little Lou, a placement order had not been obtained. Despite a sense of déjà vu, we naively believed them when they insisted this would not be a problem. They convinced us that this little baby boy would be part of our family by the beginning of November.
The court didn’t agree.
The case has been adjourned. The social worker left before the end of the hearing, so we have no idea what will happen next.
So a year on I would like, in the most insincere way possible, to say “thank you social services for awakening my latent desire to have another baby. Thank you for disrupting our lives so that we are unable to think of anything else. I wish at this moment that we could just walk away, but I know and you know that we won’t!”