Urinetown...

Sometimes adoption throws up the strangest of challenges designed to push all of those 'parenting' buttons.

We've had a busy couple of weeks. TJ's 'emergency' CAMHS (Children and Adolescent Mental Health Services) finally came through - it was originally referred by the GP last June when TJ's anxiety became so heightened that he threatened suicide and refused to go to school (see School Refusal post) and the GP signed him off school whilst we awaited his EHC plan to be completed, thus allowing him to attend a specialist school. During that wait TJ gained his plan and obtained a place at an ASD specialist school - I wont say he loves it there but he had a really good parent's evening where he was seen to be a popular child who is meeting all of his expected educational milestones - they even have him on a GCSE pathway - something his previous schools had all discounted.

Anyway, the CAMHS meeting finally happened, where we were told we were doing al the right things and that the change in school had obviously had a major impact on TJ's mental health and that he was settled now and could be discharged from CAMHS - although they would offer a recommendation of a referral to a sleep clinic as TJ told them he still has trouble sleeping.

Thank goodness we weren't relying on that appointment - for us to have waited 8 months, as an emergency, reflects that state of mental health care at the moment - its not the fault of the professionals - they simply don't have the resources. I dread to think how long we would have to have waited if if wasn't an 'emergency'. Sigh...

So we thought TJ had finally turned a corner and then.... I walked into his room... and the stench hit me. It smelt not unlike a gents toilet and not one of those fancy new toilets with lovely air fresheners and background music playing. Think more of a gents toilet in a railway station circa 1985 - horrendous.

I spent the next hour on my knees sniffing various parts of the room. He hadn't wet the bed, he hadn't been seeing into a box or the bin (these are usual occurrences). No, he had wee'd directly into the corner of his room - all over a pile of teddies and bags. It was everywhere. For a thirteen year old he can certainly hold a lot of urine.

So he was duly called in for a 'chat'. After a long period of listening to a variety of stories involving each of the pets coming into his room and wee'ing on his toys, alongside his brother doing it to get him into trouble, or even a stranger breaking in during the night. Eventually he admitted he had done it, but he didn't know why. I reassured him that he wasn't in trouble -I just wanted to help him an to make sure it didn't happen again. Maybe he had been in a deep sleep and thought he was in the bathroom (which is next to his bedroom), or he was caught short - but no, he was quite happy to tell me he got up and wee'd on his stuff - it was bizarre. So he helped me clean it all up. I say clean - we can clean up the mess but the smell remains... its horrendous. But a quick google and trip to the supermarket has enabled me to find a new carpet cleaner and urine neutraliser. The mess is easier to clean up. the mental issues less so.

A chat with my online support group led me to the conclusion that he is anxious and is possible going through a period of regression. As a child in his birth family he was locked in a room for hours on end with no food, toileting - anything. When he first came to us he used to peel wallpaper off during the night so he had something to eat. Food is a huge issue for him. He has to know that fridge is always stocked. The smell of urine was probably a comfort to him - reminding him of being a baby. in the same way we only have to smell Johnson's baby powder and we feel warm and cuddly - for him urine has the same effect.

I don't know - the damage that was done early on in life is so difficult to both understand and impossible to correct - for both him and us. But I guess that's adoption - trying to teach the young people how to deal with their past trauma. how to recognise that this is a throwback and isn't going to happen again. And just when you think you've sorted it all out - it rears it's ugly head again.

Then, to cap it all, I had a call from social services. Birth mum has decided, after years of not showing the slightest interest, that she would like to get in contact with 'her boys' again. i'm not going to deny her that - maybe she's changed, maybe she's remorseful, regretful, whatever. I'm all about forgiveness. But it's easier for me to forgive, I didn't suffer because of her neglect. I don't have Foetal alcohol syndrome because she drank so heavily during her pregnancy. I didn't sit crying in my room unattended and having to eat wallpaper and sit in my wet nappies for hours on end.

I always said I'll support both boys if they want to meet her eventually. But I'll also understand their decision if they decide not to.

Not that it's my choice to make...

But not until they are ready.

What Would Happen if I Met My Birth Mum?

"What would happen if I met my birth mum in the supermarket"

I looked at KC.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to pretend I hadn't heard him although in reality I was just giving myself space to think.

"Well, say I was at the supermarket getting you some milk or something, by myself, and my mum was standing there, what should I say to her?"

I looked at him. This was a genuine question - he wasn't after anything or trying to play me - this was obviously on his mind. A couple of weeks ago the school had a talk from members of the NSPCC and, although KC didn't attend, his classmates have all been chatting to him about it and, his teacher told me that he has achieved a 'cool' status in being adopted, having two dad's - having experienced some of the isues they only hear about in assemblies - I'm not entirely sure he appreciates this new status as talking about his birth mum and his past life in care has never been top of his priority list - well, not to school mates anyway.

But I was't going to let this opportunity to talk openly about his adoption go, I wasn't going to sweep it under the carpet with a well meant pleasantary, "Let's talk about it later." As my sons both tell me, 'when a parent says 'later' they usually mean 'never'.

So we talked.

He had a lot of questions.

Yes we have his life story book, but he doesn't like to look at it for very long. It's not the pictures or the story that upset him, it's that they bring back memories of 'the bad things'. He very rarely talks about the 'bad things'. But today he wanted to talk about his birth mum and why she let the 'bad things' happen.

"Maybe she's changed?" he said hopefully.

"Maybe she has," I replied, "But, to be honest, I don't know. But when you are ready then we can look for her together - although legally we can't do that until you are 18."

"My friends say I can find her through the TV show, "Long Lost Family."

I stopped. We don't watch that show, not because I have anything against it - its just not my cup of tea. However, here we are at home being careful over everything the boys watch, monitoring internet and mobile phone use - doing all the right things. But I hadn't counted on well-meaning friends spurred on by talks from well meaning adults...

'I don't think thats the best way to make contact." I said.

"Do you still write to her?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied truthfully - in fact our contact letter is due later this month.

His eyes lit up, "Can I read her replies?" he asked.

I wasn't going to sugar coat things, "She has never replied," I told him. "Not yet anyway."

"Can I write to her?" he asked.

I thought about it. He is nearly 11 now.

"Why don't we write it together," I said.

"Good," he said, "I want to tell her how much I've grown and about my cricket match."

He stopped.

"Do you think she goes to the gym now and is healthy? Has she stopped taking drugs and drinking? Is she still married to TJ's dad?"

None of these questions I could answer - well, some I could - I had seen her Facebook page and it didn't look as though any of the above had been adhered too - apart from the marriage which I saw from her status was no longer recognised but I couldn't tell him that.

I think he saw I was a little moved by his questions.

"Its okay," he said, "I don't want to live with her - not after what they did - but one day I might want to visit."

He paused, "And anyway, you are always saying we can't live in the past - so I'm going to have a good day and plan my future."

I wonder if his plans include her... or his fantasy version of who she is...

Why don't we have a mum?...

Why do children always want to talk about the most important things when you are rushing to do something else?

In our case we were late for school - as usual. We only live over the road from the school so why we always leave it to the last minute to get out of the door amazes me. Today was just the same as any other day except that as we were crossing the road TJ suddenly says, "Why did you choose my name?"

"Well, to be honest, we didn't choose your name," I replied, "Your birth mum did.. but we chose you." and I smiled re-assuringly (as all the adoption manuals recommend). "Anyway," I went on, "we chose your middle name together, remember?"

"I don't like my name." TJ replied simply.

Immediately all my psychological warning bells went off (guess what I am studying for) and I know that usually when a child says they don't like something as fundamental as their name then it usually shows they don't like themselves - self esteem issues are high on the agenda for many adopted children.

We walked a little bit slower now as I felt a conversation was about to come on - a conversation that had to be raised by TJ, not led by me (even though I was desparate to).

"Why don't we have a mum?"

Great, we have five minutes before the school gate is closed and he asks me this. Oh well, if we are late then so be it - this needed to be discussed.

"Well," I said, "You do have a mum but she couldn't look after you and so you went into care while the social workers found you a new family. Daddy and Papa also wanted a family and we chose you. So you are very lucky, you were chosen, not many children can say that."

I breathed out after giving what is pretty much my standard reply to this question when it ever comes up. But then came his retort, "But we didn't choose you, nobody asked me what I wanted."

"And what did you want?" I asked. As soon as this came out of my mouth I knew that I was not going to like the reply. But it was quite insightful of him - they do say that children are usually a little bit older before they realise that in order to have be 'chosen' you first have to have been rejected by another family. Rejection is probably the wrong word to use but I can't find one that sums up how they would feel. In many ways I was glad that TJ was able to feel safe enough to have this conversation even though I knew I wasn't going to like what came next.

"I wanted a mum." he said, "I think I would have liked to have a mum."

" I know you would sweetie," holding his hand, "I know you would have liked to have a mum, but lots of children come from different families - some have one mummy, some one daddy, some have two mummies and some two daddies - like you."

"I know all that," he replied knowingly, 'I'm just saying that when I get older and get to choose my next family I'm going to have one with a mum."

"Well, unfortunately, this is the only family you're going to have mister," I said, probably a bit too strictly, "so get used to it... besides, this family loves you and I would be very sad if you went somewhere else."

He thought about this, "Do you think my birth mum was sad that I had to leave her?"

Where had all this come from?

"I think she probably was," I said, "But she knew she wasn't able to give you the love and care you needed to she knew it was better for you to be adopted and we told her we would love you."

"Do you think she would get me a new football?" he asked, "A blue one?"

"Well, maybe we could get you one this weekend," I replied.

"Good," he said with a smile, "because I want one of those."

And with that he rushed into school just as the gates were closing.

I was left standing there in a slight state of shock. Had my youngest child just used his adoptive story to manipulate me into promising him a new football? Possibly, but either way he was sharing a deep feeling with me - whether he knew it or not and I think that deserves a new football....