Читать книгу Can I Let You Go?: Part 3 of 3: A heartbreaking true story of love, loss and moving on - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 7

Although I recorded events objectively in my fostering log, as carers are supposed to, I was now feeling anything but objective. In teaching Faye, the fight for her to keep her baby had become personal as I tried to instil knowledge into her, willing her to learn so she had the best possible chance. In the months Faye had been living with us we’d become very close. She’d spent a lot of time with me – more than most foster children, as they would normally have been in school. All that time, plus her vulnerability, had drawn us closer, and I felt fiercely loyal and protective of her (as I appreciated her grandparents did). Faye was a dear, kind soul who I knew would love her baby unconditionally, if only she could be taught the skills to parent. I knew my children felt the same. Adrian didn’t say much, but I often found him explaining something to Faye or praising her for a job well done to build her confidence. Lucy and Paula took every opportunity to encourage and praise Faye too, and because Lucy worked in a nursery she sometimes offered Faye practical childcare advice – usually at the weekend when she wasn’t tired from work. Without doubt, we’d all bonded with Faye and were on her side. We were like her support army, ready to do all we could in the battle for her to keep her baby. The possibility that we might fail was too painful to consider.

The rest of the week flew by, and the following week Edith visited. Faye was with us in the living room most of the time and proudly showed Edith how she fed and changed the baby doll. Edith praised her and the way I was teaching Faye. I was pleased. I’d had no formal training in caring for or teaching adults with learning disabilities, so it had been trial and error. Edith made some notes on my fostering, which would be included in the report she wrote for my annual review. She’d forgotten about trying to find an electronic doll and made another note to remind herself. She was with us for nearly three-quarters of an hour, observing Faye and talking to her and me. At the end she read and signed my log notes. I would email her and Becky a monthly report, as all foster carers are now expected to do. The amount of paperwork has steadily increased over the years, and I know some carers find it a burden.

During that week Faye and I also attended the first of the two antenatal classes, held in a function room at the library. It took Faye a while to grasp that this building wasn’t anything to do with the hospital where she would be having her baby but was purely being used for the lecture. We signed in and then sat together on the seats arranged in four rows facing a flip chart. There were eight pregnant women with either their partner or mother there, and one woman by herself. All the others appeared to know each other, presumably from the previous classes, which rather singled us out from the start. The lecture was entitled Mother and Baby’s Wellbeing and was given by a midwife (though not the one we saw at the doctor’s surgery) and a student, whose job it was to distribute the handouts and turn the sheets of the flip chart. The topics included good nutrition for the mother and baby, what to eat and what not to eat, exercise, baby vaccinations, keeping baby at the right temperature, postnatal depression and so on. Faye’s literacy skills weren’t good enough for her to be able to make sense of much of the handouts, and it soon became obvious that what the midwife was saying was going over her head too. It didn’t help that the midwife’s voice was rather low and monotonous, and the chairs were hard and uncomfortable. Faye very quickly lost interest and concentration, and then, without the inhibitions that might have kept most adults focused and hiding their boredom, she began yawing and gazing around. Thankfully Snuggles was in the car; otherwise I think she’d have begun playing with him. She examined the walls and ceiling, and then began staring at the others to our left and right and then turning in her seat so she could see those sitting behind. I kept trying to draw her attention back to the front and what was being said, and I told her to sit still.