Riding Waves with Angel

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Back in the Cut

We are back ‘in the cut’. I am exhausted. It started with a tough re-entry to school following the holidays because Angel did a silly thing with a friend and rubbed something off the blackboard in her class. The teacher asked who in the class had done it and her friend made her confess at break time. Confessing is anathema to Angel and something she would never do on her own accord and even though I’m sure the teacher was gently correcting, the anger, shame and self-loathing that followed are extreme. I suggest our new anger expelling trick (suggested by the GBB course leaders) of punching through newspaper. This makes an extremely satisfying snap and you can make it harder by adding layers. Angel loves it, ‘More mummy, more!’ There are demands for Simon Says, cartwheels, jumping jacks, handstands, ‘More mummy, more.’ I can see how hard she is trying to dissipate her demons, just keep moving, moving, moving. Eventually I call time. It’s bedtime although it feels she could go on fore

The Great Behaviour Breakdown

We are on our way home from school in the car. I remind Angel that she still has a letter from her birth Mum to read, when she is ready. Me - There is also something else she has sent. Angel - Really? Me - Yes, it's only something small. I can see her thinking.I don’t want her to get too excited thinking it’s a massive present so add, ‘It's edible’. I’m not sure it was the right time to mention it but I have been feeling bad it’s taken so long to give it to her. I think at least we have the rest of the afternoon together so if there is fallout, I can catch it. It’s hard to find the right time to share contact letters and this has now been in my possession for four months. First of all I needed time to process my feelings around it (see previous blog, ‘Contact Part 2’) . Then Angel wasn’t in a great place, then when she was, I was so relieved to have some respite that I didn’t want to upset the apple cart again and then I forgot! I had meant to do it on the weekend. Angel wan

Shining a Light

It’s been tricky going back to school. Angel’s designated person, Mary (someone she also had a one on one with every week), left at the end of term. We arranged for Angel to do a weekly art therapy session with another teacher she loves to replace her session with Mary and they did a four week crossover with both present, which was brilliant. Angel seemed to be taking it all remarkably well but was beyond excited about our first abroad in two and half years so don’t think she fully absorbed that Mary was leaving until her return to school. On Monday, she tells me, ‘I’m worried about Mary’, so we text and Mary sends a lovely voice message reply. We hope to meet up soon (she still lives locally) but it is still another loss in Angel’s life. On Tuesday I have to go to a work event. I can sense Angel’s stress as soon as she comes in from school. She wants this, then that, then something different. ‘Are you feeling worried?’ I ask. Angel - Yes I’m worried about Mary and you. Me - Are y

The Good Place

Angel is back at school after a three week break. Last term was hard and along with contact, it took it out of me. Five days into the school holiday something shifted and we got back our easy, breezy Angel. The one that can play by herself while I clean up the kitchen, who isn't demanding three different things all at the same time. It’s ironic that when our kids are in a good place, it’s lovely to spend time with them but it’s when they are in a bad place that they need us most. I feel Angel’s stress return as school approaches. We talk about it….. lots. I give her the homeopathic remedy that helped before. Night before return and she is up in the night with an upset tummy. Uh oh, I think. This is anxiety. I say she can stay home but explain that lots of kids may be anxious on the first day and it might be better to go in when others are feeling the same (although truth be told, I don’t know any other kids in her school who worry in the way she does). Then the miraculous happen

Contact Part 2

I thought I got away with it this year. I thought contact would be easier. It was, to write my letters. Then wham! Six page letter back from Birth Mum to me, four page letter to Angel, 30 photos of what looks like a lovely, large family unit: birth mum, fiancé, two baby sisters, one older sister, grandma, 4 cats, 2 dogs. Even grandma has a dog. Talk of happy holidays with them all in Cornwall. Angel here with us, desperate for siblings. I picture that home, can see how happy Angel could have been in it, the siblings she is missing, the extra pets she wants. Next time she says she feels she’s ‘in the wrong family’, it will be harder to contradict. I sob. I never considered I would look at a picture of another family and feel the only thing missing from it was my daughter. I didn’t know it would be this hard to bear. Hubby looks at the photos briefly and throws them down on the table. ‘I’m not reading the letters’, he declares, ‘that's enough.’ I know he will in time but I get it. I

The Case of the Orange Sweatshirt

Angel is in a bit of a state. I’m in a bit of a state. I realise it’s been going on a while, now I think about it, but somehow it's different now, harder to get hold of. Angel doesn’t cower in a corner crying anymore (at least not very often!) but instead offers up strange and disconcerting behaviour. Is this progress? Example one: A few weeks ago Angel came home from school very upset… Angel - The whole class ganged up on me and everyone was against me apart from Yoni. Me - Why, what happened? Angel - Well I said my sweatshirt was red and everyone else said it was orange. I would like to point out that this is indeed very much an orange sweatshirt and it has always been accepted as such. However, I could see that saying this was not going to be very helpful. Tentatively, I tried, ‘Maybe you could just accept that everyone has a different point of view?’ Angel - But everyone was against me! Me - Well I can imagine that must have been really tough. What else could I say that woul