A very solid little unit

It was nearly seven years ago when I sold my one-bedroom flat in London and moved to a new house in the country, just a stone’s throw from one of my oldest and best friends. It was the start of my journey towards adoption.

At that time, of course, I had no idea how old my new child would be, nor whether it would be a boy or a girl. For many months I rearranged and decorated our home, and fitted out a little bedroom for my ‘phantom’ child. Nearly a year later, I spotted my son-to-be in Be My Parent. I somehow felt he was ‘the one’: he was cute and his profile mentioned that the adoption services would consider a single adopter; also, his birthday was on the same day as my mother’s, which I felt was a bit of an omen! I contacted my social worker immediately to set the ball rolling.

When I heard that Alan would definitely be coming to live with me in a month’s time, I was completely taken by surprise – despite all the waiting and supposed ‘getting ready’ – and ended up running around like a mad thing. Fortunately, Alan’s social services department was able to help me financially with buying equipment, such as a buggy, car seat, stair gates, nappies, clothes and so on. His bedroom had been painted and I’d already bought a bed.

Now that my child was no longer a ‘phantom’, but a real little boy, the whole thing suddenly became a lot more concrete and considerably more urgent. I made a little book about myself and my family and the house. I tried to make it meaningful for a little boy and arranged it around a sort of story; looking for some friends (a little group of stuffed toys bought for Alan, and some of my old ones) who were hiding somewhere at home.

I took pictures of myself and my family and friends doing various activities. I thought it would help to make the house more familiar and less frightening for him. There was Grandma washing up in the kitchen and Grandad digging in the garden; there was Uncle John playing his guitar; there were my friend’s children on the climbing frame; and finally, there were the toys he’d seen peeping out of a window, hiding on the bed in the room that would be his own room. It worked very well. Alan knew from the start where he was. He would spend quite some time looking around the house, opening cupboards and emptying them out and generally sussing out his new environment.

Alan’s foster family was completely instrumental in making those first days and weeks as untraumatic as possible for Alan. They had all become very attached to him and it was hard for them to say goodbye. However, they were brilliant during the whole introduction phase. I discovered that Alan’s foster mum had been reading through my book with him every day and instead of saying “Look, there’s Julia”, which is what I’d written in my book, she’d been saying “Look, there’s Mummy”. I was stunned that on our first meeting he automatically called me Mummy. I think he was better prepared for that than I was!

When I had first moved to my house and started meeting neighbours, I felt straight away that I should be upfront about the fact that I was intending to adopt. I’d been told that sometimes placements can happen very suddenly and without much warning, so I thought it would be a good idea to explain in advance why I might suddenly appear with a small child in tow. Mostly, although I could tell they thought I was a little odd, people were pleasant and accepting. Those with children possibly secretly wondered why I would deliberately put myself into the difficult position of a single parent. Those without children, particularly single female friends, were interested to hear about the nuts and bolts of becoming an adopter – most had heard how difficult it is to adopt and were surprised that single women like me would be allowed to.

Generally speaking, people were supportive and have remained so. When Alan first came to live with me, he was extremely compliant and that state lasted for several months. He slept a lot initially, which in retrospect was probably a reaction to the trauma of the whole thing. He was affectionate, but it took some time for me to feel he knew he was with me, and was my child, and that he was supposed to come home with me – although he knew I was Mummy, at the beginning “Mummy” was just like any other name to him.

As his affection and attachment towards me grew, his compliance dwindled. It was hard work sometimes, but the only way to view it was positively – the more secure he felt, the more he thought he could test my affection. I don’t know how I managed to establish routines during those first few weeks, or to gradually get to know this small person who was my sole responsibility, but somehow it happened and somehow, little by little, as Alan became my son, I became his mother, with all that motherhood entails.

During the first months Alan lived with me, before the adoption was final, both my and Alan’s social workers visited us frequently. They were extremely supportive and tactful and I looked forward to their visits. But the most important people in our lives are our ‘support group’, which consists mainly of my parents and best friend. As a single adopter it’s crucial for me to have people who are on my side and willing to help in a crisis – whatever it is and whenever it happens. These people helped me to prepare and they figured in Alan’s little book. When they appeared in his life, which they did gradually over the first couple of weeks of Alan coming to live with me, he already knew who they were. He greeted my parents with joy, calling them Grandma and Grandad straight away, and went on to develop a special relationship with each of them.

It is now almost five-and-a-half years since Alan came to live with me and he is nearly eight. During this time we have become a very solid little unit and there is no doubt now about Alan’s attachment to me. There have been many ups and downs and I have learned a huge amount about being on my own and coping with a small child. Alan has learned too: he’s learned to ride his bike, to do a handstand, and to read and write. Above all, he’s learned he is loved and valued and that he has a mum who will always be there for him.

Alan’s real name could not be used in this article.

Julia has written her story of adoption as a single parent, Flying solo, published by BAAF in March 2007 a part of the Our Story series.

Originally published in the Be My Parent newspaper in March 2007.

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: 03 January 08

Back to previous