We are a family!

It was one of those blissful Sunday afternoon family moments when all seemed calm. Simon had this thing from a packet of breakfast cereal – a squashy tomato toy made from that goo-like stuff that clings to the wall when you throw it. As brothers do, Simon wasn’t letting little Ryan play with it. Meanwhile, Callum, the five year-old, was trying to reformat the hard drive on the laptop.

“My turn,” cried Ryan as he hurled something towards the patio door. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. We peered over our Sunday papers to see our largest tomato hit the glass with a resounding squelch, leaving a slime trail behind it as it slipped off to be gobbled by the hungry retriever.

Ryan had thought Simon was playing with a real tomato and had got one for himself from the fridge. Oh, how we laughed! Nothing can prepare you for moments like these.

Last week Liam and I celebrated our seventh anniversary with a fleeting visit to the local curry house for a Korma and a bottle of red. This was our first night out by ourselves since the arrival of the boys four months ago, but we spent the whole evening talking about nothing else – even texting the babysitters to see if everything was OK. We were proper parents!

And to think we used to laugh at friends who would talk about nothing but their children… We both work with children as teachers, and friends and colleagues would tell me I’d be an excellent dad! Liam and I had often talked about having children, and had even lightheartedly discussed ways of having our own – with the help of women friends – but it didn’t really appeal! It was quite by chance that we noticed an ad in our local paper about an open evening for prospective adoptive parents.

Unfortunately, I had a School Governors’ meeting that evening, so Liam decided to brave it alone. The ad said, everyone welcome. Did that include gay men? Would they consider us? Liam expected everyone in the room to stare at a single man. Of course, he wasn’t single... but he was on his own. Imagine his relief when he was met by the only other person there – a lesbian! Later, an African-Caribbean man came with his white girlfriend, who walked with a crutch. Not one heterosexual married stereotype!

The meeting finished with a handshake and a ‘There’s our number. Discuss it and call us if you want to take the next step’. It was discussed that night! I phoned the next morning and spoke to a social worker, Jackie. At one point, she confessed she didn’t believe I had been to a Governors’ meeting, but just assumed we were trying to avoid the gay issue.

Jackie became our social worker and visited us on a regular basis, and we learnt a lot about each other and even more about ourselves. In the hot summer of 2003, we attended an intense three-day training course – a real eye-opener.

On 9 December 2003 we were due in front of the panel to decide whether we were suitable to be approved as adopters. Neither of us felt nervous – our main concern was about being held up in the city traffic! But when we saw how worked up Jackie was, we nearly went to pieces. She later confided: “It’s nine months of my work being examined for flaws!”

Since that very first meeting Jackie had been totally supportive and encouraging. She prepared her report so well that the panel – 15 women from a plethora of backgrounds and experiences – only asked relatively straightforward questions, although one was about how we would deal with bullying. We said we would help the children build strategies, as usually you’re picked on because you come across as vulnerable, so what matters is how you feel about yourself and how you react.

And then came the magic moment when they told us: “We are pleased to approve you as adoptive parents. We believe you have a lot to offer a young family.” We immediately turned to Jackie, asking: “Now what do we do?” and she slapped a copy of Be My Parent into Liam’s hand, saying: “Start looking!”

The search was on. We decided to pick the prospective children the same way we did the house: take the information, sit in separate rooms and circle the ones you’re interested in. We enquired about many children. Single children. Boys. Girls. Brothers and sisters. We went through so many emotions.

Then, in March of 2004, there they were, in Be My Parent. Our boys. THREE of them. We had read the paper independently as usual and, they were the ones. We just knew. Jackie started making enquiries, and I cut the photograph out of the paper to show colleagues!

Next, we met the boys’ social worker and hoped she would approve. We met the social worker’s line manager and hoped she would approve. We met the foster carers, the teachers and the birth parents’ social workers. We went to a Life Appreciation Day, thinking there would be five or six people. There were 23! We talked at length and were given access to every detail of the children’s history. We were still keen.

Changes needed to be made to the house.Move that door. Combine the offices. Get a new kitchen. Sort out financial matters. Tell work that I’m off on a year’s adoption leave. Change the car. Explain to my nephew. Compile life storybooks. Order furniture. Assemble it. Paint bedrooms.

And before we knew it we were booked into a hotel in the children’s home town, preparing to meet them. The boys had been told about their new daddies just a week earlier, and apparently were pleased that after all this talk about moving on to a forever family, it was about to happen.

Meeting the boys for the first time was bizarre: a whole group of kids were playing outside their foster home, but which ones were ours? Panic. It was summer and everyone had baseball caps on, and the photographs we had seen were a few months old… Then, we heard one child shout: “Matthew, I’ve got to go in now. My new dads are here!”

The children pushed the boundaries and we shoved them back. The foster carers were superb. They supported us every step of the way, on hand for the first few days and then melting into the background. They let us use a set of keys to come and go as we pleased. It worked. It was right.

The week flew by, and bonds were formed and attachments made. Vera Fahlberg and her book, A child’s journey through placement, was with us every step of the way.

All three brothers had a difficult start in life, and this affected the eldest most of all. The result was bad language and bad behaviour, including a lot of kicking and hitting out, as well as bedwetting. We’ve seen it all, but already there’s been amazing improvement. What we do, when one of them is naughty, is to send him to the bottom step of the stairs to quieten down and realise what is and what is not acceptable behaviour. We also hold the child on our lap and comfort him. We’ve found the most unexpected events can trigger memories and emotions – and behaviours. They still find being with social workers difficult – a real nightmare. Seeing a woman with auburn hair was quite traumatic, and one of them hid under a pew in church (the church brought back memories of home).

A lot of things are helping: walks in the park, running around with the dog, games on the beach, watching the sea, chatting about it all with my mother, me being at home full time (quite a shock!), letting them take decisions. We had thought they could call us Daddy Liam and Daddy Tom, but in no time at all we were Dad and Daddy! Four months on, and there have been some upsets at school. There have been some arguments at home. But we are a family and that’s what happens. Right?

All names have been changed.

Originally published in the Be My Parent newspaper in January 2005.

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This article is published with the kind permission of the people involved. You may download it for your own reference but if you wish to use it for any other purpose, please contact Be My Parent for authorisation: Be My Parent, BAAF, Saffron House, 6-10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Telephone: 020 7421 2666/5/4.

Last updated: 04 December 07

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