Our post-adoption support team changed recently. Three years after the adoption order, we switched from the placing LA – a lovely team who even responded to messages on their days off and in the evenings because they really cared – to our own LA, who are… different.
Asking for help
We’re having a really difficult time at the moment (see my post about our children’s violence) and have asked for some extra support. But they have taken exception to a couple of our requests, particularly the one where we asked for training in how to safely hold our children when they are attacking us or each other. We think the risks of not holding the children at these times – including injuries to us and each other from bites, kicks, scratches and the throwing of anything that comes to hand – outweigh the risks of holding them as safely as we can, which is basically a firm cuddle or the holding of their hands. They’re saying (having never met our children, of course) that we are Definitely Not Allowed to hold them at all.
School staff are allowed, having been given training, but we’re not, because that is the policy. Those are the rules and they Must Be Obeyed and because we question these rules we are bad parents who are being referred to safeguarding. Yes, really. It’s horrendous. It has made me literally sick with worry. Thankfully our headteacher supports us completely and has argued our case, having been on the receiving end of Joanna’s violence and used safe restraint herself. Many others we have told – those who actually know our family, including Joanna’s therapist – have expressed their willingness to speak up in our defence if required. But still it drags on, hanging over us and reducing me to a sobbing mess several times a day.
We asked for help because we are getting bitten, kicked, scratched and hit by the children we love. We want to keep the children safe while they attack us and we defend ourselves. I still don’t understand why this is wrong.
After pondering my interactions with several members of the new team, I realised that their attitude reminded me of something. There are a couple of scenes in The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel where Evelyn Greenslade (played by Judi Dench) deals with call centre staff who are only focused on their script, not on the human being they are speaking to. This short clip sums up the problem.
Evelyn: ‘A little while ago I talked to someone who was so constricted by the script… that she spoke without a trace of humanity, as if she hadn’t realised that I was going completely to pieces at the end of the phone.’
My calls with the new PAS people have made me cry, both during the conversation and afterwards, and I’m not generally a weepy person. But they didn’t stop to listen, or apologise for upsetting me, they just continued to recite jargon-filled management speak – repeatedly interrupting me while I was still trying to talk – as though they were reading from a script. (And not one written by Ol Parker.) There was no compassion for our situation when I patiently, if tearfully, tried to explain what would happen if we didn’t hold our children. No humanity. Just judgement.
So what do we do in the face of this? I’ve been considering this a lot lately (often when I’ve been awake in the small hours). Do we match their terse tone with an equally emotionless response, keeping everything merely businesslike? Or do we continue to show that we are human beings with feelings, which I seem to recall was considered an advantage when we were being assessed as prospective adopters?
We’ve chosen the latter. Or to be more accurate, it has chosen us, because no matter how articulate and professional a person can be at their best, if you cause them enough stress and that leads to enough sleep deprivation, they’re not going to be able to keep from displaying emotion if you keep on questioning their judgement and telling them they are terrible parents.
Our ability to empathise with our children’s feelings is a good thing, and our priority is always keeping them safe, so why are we not afforded the same courtesies of empathy and safety from those who are supposed to provide our support?
What about you?
If you’ve had a similar response, especially if it’s been related to asking for help with CPV (child-to-parent violence), I’d really like to hear from you. Please leave a comment below or get in touch via Twitter, Facebook, or email.