Riding Waves with Angel

I am undone.  I didn’t expect this to undo me. I only ever thought about it from Angel's point of view and overlooked myself.  I dream of the abortion I had in my 20’s, of the miscarriage in my 40’s and all the losses along the way that preceded adopting Angel.  It’s ironic because you are not allowed to apply to adopt until six months after your last IVF treatment, but by the time we came to adoption we were so hell-bent on having a child we didn’t grieve. Our sole focus was counting down to start the adoption process. Renovate the house - tick. Get a dog - tick. Get ready. Then you have the whole arduous, often frustrating and stressful assessment. Finally, you get offered a child. Then there are more hoops to jump through. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Eventually, after what seems like another forever, you are doing introductions and you bring home a fully functioning, for us, 22-month-old, baby. This child is scared and traumatised and you actually have no idea who they ...

We are less than five minutes out when hubby says to Angel,  ‘You know today is all about what you need and want. If you said you wanted to turn around and drive back to London now, I would - no questions asked. And if at any point it feels too much, we can just leave and go home.’  I add, ‘Whatever you feel is OK too. Me and Dad are good with whatever you feel’.  She smiles. I love my hubby; it was exactly what she needed to hear. The meeting has been set at Whipsnade Animal Park, in the entrance cafe. Birth Mum and the social worker arrive before us, as planned. I see them through the cafe window as we approach in heavy rain.  We shake off wet umbrellas, and I hug birth mum. It is more than a hug - it’s a squeeze, a rock, and eventually a kiss on the cheek, and still it doesn’t feel enough to express what I am feeling. The hug that says all the words we can’t find. We both cry. Eventually we pull apart, laughing at ourselves, and she asks if she can hug Angel. Thei...

It came to me all in a rush this morning, I feel scared of losing Angel. There, I’ve said it. It feels somehow unspeakable, unevolved. I wonder if other adopted parents feel like this, but I guess other adopted parents don’t often go seeking to meet birth mothers. But it’s not just meeting birth Mum, I feel the shifting waters anyway as she turns away from me to the phone, her friends, a darkened room with the door firmly shut. Fourteen feels like a territory all its own. I remember a mum once saying parenthood felt like a series of incremental losses, but I didn’t really get it until now. I’ve felt it in moments, but I’ve been so busy riding the waves with Angel, I didn’t notice she’s increasingly on her own board. And it’s so much loss to look at, my loss of not having a birth child, her loss of her birth family, one foster family and then another, and birth mum’s loss of Angel and the other children that were taken away. Our whole story was born of loss and I feel it all interwoven ...

The Zoom meeting was at 2.30pm. We are all on time and, as the faces come into focus, there is some adjustment needed with birth mum and the social worker in different bottom corners of the screen. They shuffle closer, tilt the screen, heads briefly disappearing and reappearing. I can see birth mum is nervous, still; she is holding herself very carefully. ‘It’s nerve-racking isn’t it, although not sure why, like when you’re getting married,’ I say, trying to break the tension, and we all laugh. The laugh lands, but lightly. ‘I was thinking about what we needed to talk about in this call,’ I continue carefully, feeling the weight of emotion, ‘and thought it would be good to tell you a bit more about Angel, but wanted to know if you wanted to say anything first.’ ‘I just want to thank you for giving Angel such a good home and being amazing parents’, birth mum says. The words hit hard, which feels silly, as I had expected tears. I ask hubby to pass me the tissues, knowing I won’t manage t...