National Adoption Week: #ProvideAdoptionSupport

If you’re part of the UK adoption community, you can hardly have failed to notice that this week (16–22 October) is National Adoption Week. The powers that be have decided that an appropriate hashtag with which to publicise the week is #SupportAdoption. They’re encouraging people to use it and to join a Thunderclap (a type of Twitter campaign) to get it trending. I’m unclear about exactly what this hashtag achieves other than that it might cause people to say ‘Oh, Adoption, that’s nice’.

So I propose that adoptive parents respond with a hashtag of our own: #ProvideAdoptionSupport. An actual call to action that asks them to show they mean it.

Here’s why.

provide-adoption-support

More than PR

It’s easy to say that you support adoption, but it’s vital to provide adoption support. ‘#SupportAdoption’ is very easy to put on a bumper sticker or a pen to lure in unsuspecting prospective adopters, but proper thoughtful adoption support is what makes a real difference to adoptive families once you’ve signed on the dotted line and all the social workers have stopped their statutory visits. Done properly, it’s a real lifeline, especially when you’ve got real problems such as child-on-parent violence which can lead to the adoption breaking down.

Recruit new adopters with honesty about the challenges, not with cute photos and false promises. Click To Tweet

What does it mean to #ProvideAdoptionSupport?

It’s about more than family-finding using cute pictures of children all over TV shows and in the papers. Finding families is just the start.

It’s about remembering the whole family and making sure that the parents are equipped, resourced and supported and given the mental healthcare they need when they have secondary (or primary) trauma as a direct result of caring for their child.

It’s about respecting the people who are on the front line – parents. Adoption support is not just about children’s therapies, it’s about families. It’s not about being told, as we once were by a PASW, that ‘We don’t support parents – this is Children’s Services.’

It’s about seeing all the different types of impact that adoption can have a family, including the financial implications when you have to give up work due to the demands of parenting; the high risk of family breakdown; the inability to have ‘normal’ holidays and to recharge; the damage to your home caused during a child’s frequent violent rages…

So, agencies, please don’t throw around phrases like #SupportAdoption without really thinking through the implications of what you’re saying.

It’s not only about supporting the concept of children being placed in loving families – who wouldn’t be in favour of that? Finding safe places for children to grow up is about long-term support and making sure that the child and the family around them can all thrive as a unit.

A national issue

It's disingenuous for agencies to say they '#SupportAdoption' while it's so difficult to access help. Click To Tweet

It’s disingenuous for adoption agencies to say they ‘#SupportAdoption’ while making it so difficult for families to access the help they need. My own local authority loves a hashtag and a promotional pen but even they would not dispute that our experience of their post-adoption support has been appalling. They have apologised for the worst of it but we are still only clinging on to some semblance of ‘normal’ family life. It’s not sustainable and they know it, yet they still drag their feet in resourcing us properly to care for the children. And it’s not just us – this is a national problem, as the recent media discussions about CPV have highlighted.

What I’d like to see next year

So by all means recruit new adoptive parents and have a week to focus people’s attention on adoption. Of course we still need more adoptive parents. But recruit them with honesty about the challenges, not with cute photos and false promises.

How adopters can help bring change

adoption-support-thunderclap

I think in general, adopters are far better at this social media business than the majority of adoption agencies. We bring authenticity, lived experience, and genuine compassion for each other into the picture. So let’s use our collective voice to raise awareness, help prospective adopters know what the reality is like, and encourage agencies to up their game when it comes to support.

There are a few ways you can do this:

  • Join our own Thunderclap – this means your account will join others in sending an automated Tweet like this on Thursday lunchtime. Details are here: thndr.me/qxbuKe.

  • Share this post, using the #ProvideAdoptionSupport hashtag. (Sharing links are below.) Maybe tag an adoption agency or two… Or the Prime Minister (@Number10Gov).
  • Tweet your own experience of needing your agency to #ProvideAdoptionSupport.

Let’s get the word out that adoption requires support, not just recruitment.

you might also like:

Before you go…

  • If you found this post helpful or interesting, please click below to vote for it. Thanks! 🙂
  • You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. I love to talk to fellow adopters.
  • You can also sign up here to receive my monthly newsletter. It contains my recent blog posts, my favourite adoption-related blog posts by others, and relevant resources from around the web.
Please share, like, and follow

Adoptive Parents and World Mental Health Day

It’s World Mental Health Day. I’m reblogging this post – first published in May for Mental Health Awareness Week – because I still feel exactly the same way. Let’s take action and let adoption and mental health organisations know that there is a need for specialist services to address the specific mental health challenges adoptive parents face.

I believe that the mental health of adoptive parents is both (a) critical to the success of adoptive placements and (b) massively overlooked and under-resourced. To help those in a position to help understand what I mean, here are my 10 mental health challenges for adoptive parents.

Keep reading below for my five possible solutions, and my rallying call for a new campaign.

10 Mental Health Challenges For Adoptive Parents

10 mental health challenges

These are just some of the things I  – and many others – deal with on a daily/weekly basis. Any one of these is difficult. Taken in combination they are a threat to good mental health.

  1. The fight to be respected as an authority on what is best for my children, not dismissed as ‘just Mum’ because my professional qualifications are in a different area.
  2. The fight to get them the support they need. The constant stream of forms, appointments, phone calls, waiting lists, and rejected applications.
  3. Frequently explaining to professionals and passers-by that actually, it isn’t our parenting that’s the problem.
  4. Battling to stay regulated while the children scream in my face, throw things at me, and try to hurt me, because I gave them their lunch, or asked them to put their shoes on, or said it was bedtime. (Read more about child-on-parent violence in adoptive families.)
  5. Helping them to become regulated again after a meltdown when I want to curl up under the duvet on my own and release some of the stress with a good cry.
  6. Trying not to dwell on the hurtful things they said while they were angry, and convincing myself they didn’t mean them.
  7. Living in fear of confrontations with other parents because of my child’s behaviour towards theirs.
  8. Making time for self-care, only to have it interrupted by a call from school because they can’t cope and want me to go and calm my child or collect her.
  9. Trying to ensure the children hear consistent messages about their worth and behaviour at school and at home; that they’re not thought of as ‘naughty’.
  10. Being the administrator and communications hub for every aspect of my children’s care. The meetings. The emails. The phone calls, the form-filling. The trying to get all the different parties – PAS, GP, CAMHS, OT, EP, psychotherapist, school – to speak to each other and just copy me in on emails. Trying to manage them all is a full-time job in itself. On top of my actual job. And therapeutic parenting. Oh, and self-care. And having a marriage that benefits from time spent together outside of childcare and meetings and paperwork.

Aaaarrrggggghhhh.

So what’s the solution? If only there was a neat answer. I have a few suggestions though.

5 possible solutions

  1. Prioritise self-care. MummyWriter wrote an excellent post on this recently, and you can use my free self-care resources to get started. Until things change on a wider scale, we have to manage this for ourselves. I’m sorry, it’s rubbish that it’s like this, but it is. Look after yourself. Start here.
  2. Connect with the adoption community. Reach out to other in the same situation. Twitter is especially excellent for this, but I also go to Adoption UK’s local meetings and other informal gatherings of adopters. I recommend going to adoption conferences and training courses whenever you possibly can, not just for the content, but to meet other adoptive parents and to experience being among people who understand. I don’t know how people manage without the support of other adopters. This is such a massive source of sanity for me.
  3. Don’t sweat the small stuff. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, pick your battles, both in terms of the children’s behaviour and the stuff you fight for with school and support services. Sometimes (most of the time?) you can be fighting battles on multiple fronts simultaneously. Of course you’re exhausted. You need support. Get the people who are supportive to fight some of them for you. Put some of the others on hold until next week. And then go and have a sleep.
  4. Don’t vote Conservative. I’m sorry to get political here but the cuts to social care imposed by Conservative governments have played a huge part in getting us into the current mess, where tiny budgets and understaffing restrict the help received by vulnerable people. THIS IS HORRIBLE. Vote for those who will fund social care, mental health, and the NHS in general. We need those things.
  5. Ask the powers that be for a proper national campaign, like the ‘Maternal Mental Health Matters’ one that ran last week. Not just the constant recruitment ads for new adopters. Adoption agencies need to care for the adoptive parents who are already living this, in at the deep end, because without us the whole business falls apart. The adoption charities need to work together on this. The voluntary agencies are probably a bit better at this than the LAs. Let’s share good practice and be open about what’s needed.

So let’s start working towards the launch of an Adoptive Parents’ Mental Health Week. Heck, I’m claiming the #APMHW hashtag now.

Join in! Tweet a few LAs and VAs and ask them to think about it. Something like this, perhaps:

Let’s make this happen. Because we’ve earned it. 

Before you go…

  • If you found this post helpful or interesting, please vote for it. Thanks! 🙂
  • You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. I love to talk to fellow adopters.
  • You can also sign up here to receive my monthly newsletter. It contains my recent blog posts, my favourite adoption-related blog posts by others, and relevant resources from around the web.

If you liked this, you might also like:

Please share, like, and follow

CPV: Behind the headlines

Last week was a good week for media coverage of CPV. It helps when you can, as shorthand, say ‘Please listen to last night’s File on 4‘ when you want someone to understand a bit of what it’s like to live with the verbal and physical torrent that pours out of our children.

I appreciate that people in positions of power are starting to listen. I’m grateful for media coverage that reduces the stigma of CPV. I understand that things are starting to change on the macro scale, in offices and meeting rooms somewhere. But it is so hard not to be impatient for the day when I will be able to see and feel the impact on a personal level.

cpv-behind-the-headlines

On BBC Breakfast, Adoption UK CEO Sue Armstrong-Brown repeated the statistic that about a third of adoptive families are doing OK, about a third have some problems that can be resolved with help, and about a third have severe problems.

In the last year I think we have moved from the second group into the third.

Mainly because the help is just taking too long to materialise. The behaviours are becoming well-worn pathways, and we are becoming well-worn-out parents. I have now started describing our situation as ‘blocked care’ – that is, we are so permanently mentally and emotionally exhausted from dealing with the verbal and physical abuse that our children direct at us and each other that it is becoming difficult to do anything much beyond ensuring they are clean, meals are provided (I want to say ‘they are well fed’ but that is another battleground), they have the opportunity to get enough sleep, and they are at school when they should be.

Yes, I still love them. I don’t want to stop being their mum. But this doesn’t feel like parenting. It’s like some kind of state-run endurance test. And I’m not even sure what passing the test looks like. There are glimmers of what might pass for normal family relationships – a hug at the school gates, a few pages read from a school book, a day out at the weekend (though usually we ‘divide and conquer’ because the children cope better one-to-one). But I still feel  the ‘parenting isn’t supposed to be like this’ feelings more often than I’d like.

The email

Recently, after a horrible few days of CPV, I emailed post-adoption support. Again. Specifically, I contacted a manager who has been involved with our family for almost a year and knows me and Pete fairly well. Here’s what I wrote.

The girls’ meltdowns are particularly frequent and intense at the moment and I have mentally drafted an email asking to disrupt about half a dozen times in the last fortnight. I think it is appropriate that you know how close we are to saying we can’t do this any more.

As I write this Charlotte is having another meltdown and trying to hurt Pete because she wants to go in the car rather than walk to school; last night Joanna did her best to kick, bite and scratch all three of us and screamed about wanting to be dead rather than live with us. This is happening daily. When we try to help them they shout abuse at us and try to injure us and break the house. They are so argumentative and aggressive with each other we are having to separate them as much as possible at home. We cannot continue to live like this. If Joanna doesn’t get the residential school place we’re asking for, I don’t see how we can continue.

The response

The manager tried to phone me. I don’t like talking on the phone at the best of times, and certainly wasn’t up to coping with discussing it all. I emailed and explained that. She said that was fine, she’d email. Another few days passed. I had a very brief email back, saying she’d made some phone calls to CAMHS and had a chat with her manager about the respite foster care they’ve been promising for 9 months, when we finally had an apology for the way they’d handled our request for safe holding training. Oh, and by the way, the SEN team’s EHCP meeting to discuss Joanna’s school provision has happened without us, school, or the EP knowing.

Phone calls and chats-with-managers are all very well but make no tangible difference until they result in action. The six-hour sessions of respite on some Saturdays at our local SEND activity club are welcome. They really are. But they barely give us time to fill in the next round of paperwork and have a coffee before the children need picking up again. We need overnights. We need several days in a row to decompress, feel the stress lift, and feel that we have properly come up for air before diving back in.

The meeting

A couple of days after this exchange of emails we had a TAC meeting at school. We gathered in a classroom – me and Pete, the class teacher, the TAs, the head, the SENDCo, the EP and this manager from post-adoption support. The fact that the SEN team’s meeting had taken place was news to everyone else there too. he PAS manager said ‘Obvioulsly they’d prefer to look at day schools first…’

I couldn’t let that go unchallenged. All the way through this process we have said that Joanna needs a residential placement because (a) transitions are part of the problem, (b) we are not coping with both the children at home antagonising and attacking each other, and (c) it would really help her to have a consistent, wrap-around approach. We expect the post-adoption support service to support us and to advocate for us with the SEN department. They won’t, of course, because then they will be asked to pay for the residential stuff that qualifies as ‘social care’.

She started trying to pin the blame on SEN, or on the placing LA. I wasn’t having that. Support for our family has been her responsibility for more than a year now, and after messing that up by stripping out everything  the placing LA had arranged, we are now back to where we were a year ago.

Here goes…

I didn’t lose my temper. Not quite. (I am usually the epitome of calm and professional in these meetings.) But I certainly raised my voice.

‘You are the head of post-adoption support! We’ve told you by email, and now I’ll say it again, in front of all these people…’

I was close to tears now.

‘…that we’re not coping, and that if she doesn’t get this residential placement she is likely to end up back in care. There are only two of us, sometimes only one of us [because Pete travels a lot with work]. We have abuse screamed at us on a daily basis. We’re dealing with self-harm, suicide threats, death threats, and violence. They’ve run away. We’ve had the police round. We need you to make this school place happen.’

I could barely look up, but I could feel the eyebrows of all the school staff rising in unison.

Funnily enough, the manager had to leave for another meeting about then.

I took a deep breath. Pete squeezed my hand in solidarity.

What next?

The school staff asked what they could do to help. They’re kind and well-meaning but there isn’t much. A few more members of staff are getting Team Teach training so they can cope with Joanna at breakfast club and after-school club as well as in the classroom. They’re transitioning slowly from one TA to another with a background in mental health care, who we think is better suited to managing Joanna’s needs. They’re doing all they can.

But the difference, as ever, is that the school staff are responding because they see the need first-hand. They have to cope with (some of) the meltdowns. (Charlotte saves all hers for us.) This manager has never met our children, nor have the people in offices making these budget-driven decisions. They haven’t dealt with the rage, or the sobbing aftermath. They haven’t had to pick themselves up after a school run during which they have been physically and verbally abused and get on with a day’s work. Again.

The media

This for me is what was missing from the media coverage last week. The abuse was mentioned more than it has been before, but I want to hear as much from families as we do from the office-dwellers. I want it all on display – the bruises, the holes in the walls, the broken windows. All of it. I want people to appreciate the full impact on adoptive parents’ mental and physical health. I don’t want to be held up as a saint and told I’m wonderful, I want to be properly supported to be the front line of support to my children, and I want them to get all the therapy they need without having to wait years to receive it.

I’m tired. I cry about this a lot. I used to be an articulate campaigner but I am worn out. I’ve banged on all the doors and they’re staying shut. How much longer will it take?

Before you go…

  • If you found this post helpful or interesting, please vote for it. Thanks! 🙂
  • You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. I love to talk to fellow adopters.
  • You can also sign up here to receive my monthly newsletter. It contains my recent blog posts, my favourite adoption-related blog posts by others, and relevant resources from around the web.

If you liked this, you might also like:

 

Twin Mummy and Daddy
Please share, like, and follow

Advice for prospective adopters

I’m an adoptive parent who is quite vocal on the subject. So every now and then I’m approached by friends, or friends of friends, asking about my advice for prospective adopters as they are starting the process. I’m always happy to talk adoption, don’t claim to have all the answers, but do have a few pieces of advice. I wish I’d had this stuff drummed into me when we started the process seven years ago. What follows is an adaptation of an email I sent to a friend recently.

In answer to the main question – should I/we do it? – my answer is yes. Yes, it is often incredibly hard and I regularly question my sanity, but I am still very much in favour of adoption. If reading about child-on-parent violence and the questionable delights of post-adoption support haven’t put you off, then here’s what I think you need to know.

advice-for-prospective-adopters

Gather information. Lots of it.

I recommend you take these six steps during your decision-making process, so that you have as much information about the reality of adoption as you possibly can. You’re not adopting a child who is a bit sad but can be cheered up with a cuddle and a multipack of Freddos. You’re inviting a small person who has been neglected and abused into your home, where they will process all that stuff for years to come and often be difficult to help. Regardless of what they tell you at this stage, your agency’s post-adoption support may or may not step up to help you as your child destroys your home/marriage/sanity. You need to be prepared for this.

1. Read all the books

Sally Donovan’s books are amazing. It should be compulsory to read No Matter What and The Unofficial Guide to Adoptive Parenting. While you’re at it you should probably get hold of Billy Bramble too, ready to put on your child’s bookshelf.

[If you don’t see a shiny widget here, containing my recommended reading list, click here to see a less shiny version.]

I’ve included a couple of books about FASD (Foetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders) on my list. A huge proportion of children in care (some estimate 80%) have been affected by alcohol exposure to some degree. You can find out more from the FASD Trust, the FASD Network and NOFAS-UK.

There are also reviews of other adoption-related books on my blog pretty regularly, and there’s a Twitter-based book club for therapeutic parents that theoretically ‘meets’ at the start of each month but has fizzled out a bit lately. Search for #tpbooks or the organiser, @pedallingsolo.

2. Use social media

Get an anonymous Twitter account – anonymous so you’re less easy for birth family members to find. Follow adopters – I’m @hlmeadows and I’m usually about several times a day. Some other accounts to get you started are @sallydwrites, @mralcoates, @gayadoptiondad, @mumdrah, @frogotter, @mizzanels, @meandminimees, @suddenlymummy. There are loads of adopters and it’s a really friendly community. Several of these people experience child-on-parent violence (CPV) so that features in our conversations quite frequently. You might find this glossary of adoption-related abbreviations helpful.

There are a lot of adoption Facebook groups, many of them secret and reliant on meeting members offline. (I find all the drama and cliques there a bit exhausting and generally stick to Twitter instead.) This Facebook group for prospective adopters is good.

3. Follow adoption blogs

The two best places to start are Full-Time Tired’s Weekly Round-Up and The Adoption Social’s Weekly Adoption Shout-Out. They’ll give you a pretty balanced picture of adoptive families’ everyday life.

4. Lurk on the Adoption UK forums

They frightened the life out of me before we adopted but it was all good preparation! Find the Adoption UK forums here.

5. Listen to podcasts

Start with The Adoption and Fostering Podcast (Al Coates and Scott Casson-Rennie) and The Honestly Adoption Podcast (Mike and Kristen Berry). The latter is American but still very applicable to the UK experience.

6. Talk to lots of adopters

adoption-uk-conferenceYou could come to the Adoption UK conference in Birmingham in November to hear what’s going on for adopters nationally. It tends to be a mixture of discussion of government policy and AUK campaigns, discussion of child psychology and how to parent children with a history of trauma, and stuff that is helpful to adoptive parents. Pete and I will be there, and you don’t need to be a member to attend. (Everyone will look exhausted. This is the default setting.)

If you decide to go ahead…

Having made the decision to start the process, my main piece of advice is not to be in such a hurry to get through the assessment that you make decisions that set yourself up for problems later. Take your time in making these choices, because you’ll be living with them for a long time.

1. Investigate voluntary agencies as well as the local authority

We went via our local authority and support has been decidedly patchy.

PACT have a great reputation for support, but there are also Coram, Barnardo’s, Family Futures and others (First4Adoption has a full list). I’d suggest having conversations with several and getting a good sense of what post-adoption support they offer. Also be aware that all the adoption agencies are in the process of being regionalised – joining together to combine resources. This may be a bit of a shambolic business for a while but should ultimately be an improvement.

2. Think very carefully before adopting siblings

We thought we’d save the hassle of going through the process twice and be doing something helpful as siblings are harder to place, but it has been very hard dealing with that dynamic. Ours have different issues and drive each other crazy and fight All. Day. Long.

3. Don’t sign on the dotted line until you have a support package in place

We raced through the process in order for Joanna to have our surname before she started school and didn’t do this, so some of our concerns were put aside and it was then a fight to have them taken seriously. We’d probably still do the same thing. But if you have the option of waiting and getting everything ironed out while they are still the local authority’s responsibility, then that’s probably better in the long run.

4. Get your church involved with Home for Good if it isn’t already

home-for-goodAdoption and fostering charity Home for Good runs training for churches in how to support adoptive and foster families appropriately. Their booklet on support is also excellent – I give these out by the armful at every opportunity. Try to take people from your church to the Home for Good summit (annually in the autumn) to help them ‘get it’. Don’t do what we did and change churches during the process so no-one knows you and getting support is much harder.

5. Ask questions

No question is too big/small/silly when you’re making a life-changing decision. I’m happy to answer anything – leave your questions below or find me on social media.

Before you go…

  • If you found this post helpful or interesting, please vote for it. Thanks! 🙂
  • You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. I love to talk to fellow adopters.
  • You can also sign up here to receive my monthly newsletter. It contains my recent blog posts, my favourite adoption-related blog posts by others, and relevant resources from around the web.

If you liked this, you might also like:

10 ways to help an adoptive family 
Rage and me, the human sponge
Thank God it’s Monday: adoptive parenting at the weekend

Please share, like, and follow

Self-Care Camp for Adoptive Parents

At the end of August I participated in a self-care camp run by The Open Nest and The Adoption Social. There’s a piece about it in the latest issue of Adoption Today, which is hitting doormats this weekend. Here’s the longer version of the article I wrote.

self-care-camp

The Open Nest and The Adoption Social are both legendary in adoption circles as safe spaces for adoptive families to be themselves – free of expectations of ‘normality’ – and to receive support. I was excited to be invited to lead a self-care workshop as part of a two-day self-care camp in August, co-hosted by both organisations at La Rosa Campsite – a place I’d been hearing wonderful things about for years.

Safe spaces

The Open Nest’s Amanda Boorman explains: ‘The Open Nest has been providing safe therapeutic spaces for adoptive, foster and kinship families for four years. This year the charity decided to run a self-care camp just for parents and carers. We know that taking time out in natural and peaceful environments is often good for those who love and care for children who have faced major challenges and disruption in their lives. Regulating and caring for ourselves helps us to care for and regulate others. The Open Nest believes in supporting wherever possible those who are doing intensive care.’

Set just outside Goathland in the stunning North Yorkshire Moors, The La Rosa Campsite Extraordinaire is just isolated enough to feel that you have properly got away from it all. Its shared with plenty of wildlife – I loved showering in a barn with a swallows nest over my head, while the adult swallows swooped in and out to feed four chicks! The caravans themselves are quirkily decorated on themes such as Elvis, Mary, seaside and jungle – all designed to raise a smile. Throughout the two days, The Open Nest’s Amanda and Claudia provided amazing homemade food. There were also goody bags including candles and prosecco from Inner World Work. (Thank you!)

What we did

Camp started with putting the world to rights around the campfire on the first evening. Next morning, my workshop about self-care encouraged participants to identify their specific self-care needs and collaborate together to find creative ways of meeting the needs within the constraints of their own situations. In the afternoon Sarah from The Adoption Social led a very chilled-out, beginner-friendly yoga class, a pleasing amount of which involved lying down. This was followed by relaxing massages provided by Ingrid and Claudia in front of the fire in a tepee. Blissful.

The camp was uncomplicated. We all just gathered, talked and listened, over cups of tea and glasses of prosecco. Or did our own thing – that was fine too.

How it helped

I asked some of the participants what they had found most helpful about the self-care camp.

‘One of the things that’s been really supportive is sharing each other’s stories. Sometimes that’s quite a painful thing to do, but it’s also really comforting. When you’re having a difficult time with children who are really challenging and you’re quite isolated because of that, then to be with a group of people who are experiencing the same thing helps to normalise it, and you know that you won’t be judged.’

‘[I’ve found it helpful to have] the space to explore the whole scope of what self-care means. It unusual to have this space to relax and talk and take care, so it’s quite special. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.’

‘The location, the really generous hosts and hospitality, and that sense of space – there’s no pressure in this space, you’re quite welcome to retreat or join in.’

‘I can’t help but be calm here, because I have no [mobile phone] signal!’

‘Something I found helpful from the workshop was that sometimes I feel guilty [about prioritising self-care] but if it helps to say you’re doing it for someone else then we are doing it for the children. …I know I’ll be able to cope better with the pressures [at home] because I’ve taken time out and come away.’

self-care camp: What next?

Will there be more self-care retreats in future? Yes, almost certainly. There is a recognised need and The Open Nest is committed to meeting it wherever it can. I’d love to see more of these events in other parts of the country, too – making them as accessible as possible for the parents and carers who need them. If you’d like to see one in your area, leave a comment below

Before you go…

If you liked this, you might also like:

 

Please share, like, and follow

Headspin: an update

How do other adoptive parents juggle all the stuff that we are expected to cope with? How does anyone cope with all the advocacy and admin and energy required for parenting two or more children with additional needs of any kind? This week I am really feeling the resulting headspin. My brain has way too many tabs open – too much stuff pending. Too many forms, and emails, and meetings, and phone calls.

headspin

As we hurtle towards half term (how did that happen? It was only Easter ten minutes ago), here’s what’s going on with us.

SEBD school visit

As I’ve mentioned previously, Joanna’s needs are not being met in her mainstream primary school, and she needs an alternative placement. Following the EHCP review, we visited our first SEBD school. I asked most of my questions. The school was good – lots of evidence of good strategies in place for helping the children with self-regulation, lots of breakout spaces for children to use to calm down, staff whose job it is to track children around the premises and help them to return to where they are supposed to be, that sort of thing. The OT facilities were particularly impressive. We liked the headteacher. But I had an uneasy feeling, and I haven’t quite put my finger on the reason.

The boarding dilemma

Part of it is about boarding. We’ve said we’d like to consider weekly boarding. I’m still torn about the boarding side of things – we need the respite, it means fewer transitions and long car journeys for Joanna, but she is still only eight years old, and I don’t want her to think of it as a rejection. When the person showing us round the school said ‘And here’s where we teach them to do their own laundry’ I had to take some deep breaths as I thought about what is in effect someone else parenting my child during the week and her learning all those little steps towards independence from someone else. Once we’d left the school I may have had a bit of a cry about that. Trying to put my feelings aside and focus on what is in Joanna’s best interests is a bit harder than I thought. Turns out I feel pretty horrible about asking for respite when it means my little girl living somewhere else. I need to get over not being able to meet all her needs myself, however much I’d like to. That’s hard. I don’t understand my own thoughts and feelings about it all. How can I be jealous of someone else getting to do that stuff with her and for her and yet at the same time be asking for respite because I am finding it so hard myself?

So. We still have at least two more schools to visit, but I haven’t booked them yet. There’s so much processing to do; so much else going on; so much psyching myself up for it all needs to happen.

Risk assessment

A few weeks back, as well as scaling a 7-foot wall and escaping from school, there was an incident where (a) Joanna ran away from home, (b) we tackled her to the ground in the park after 40 minutes of not-quite-chasing her; (c) a couple saw us grab her, heard her scream and assumed we were abducting her; (d) said couple called the police; (e) I pre-emptively emailed  school and PAS; and (e) the police came round to talk (supportively) about it all. PAS subsequently came out to do a risk assessment to help move things along in terms of the support they can offer. The idea is that by illustrating the constant need for us to be risk-assessing all the possible moves the girls might make, the CPV, the risk of various types of self-harm and putting themselves in dangerous situations… they can justify providing us with respite and putting pressure on the SEN team to speed up the school placement business.

Occupational Therapy

Meanwhile the OT has started working with Charlotte. (A full year after the OT assessment was done, but let’s leave that rant for another day.) Today she is in school talking to the teachers about both girls. She’s also doing an observation of Joanna as part of her assessment. Said assessment will form part of the paperwork for the EHCP review, which should support our case to get appropriate help for her. Obviously the funding isn’t yet in place for the OT to work with Joanna as well, but apparently PAS are working on it.

CAMHS

Joanna is still on the waiting list – that’s 8 months since her assessment. Charlotte is on the waiting list to get an appointment to be assessed. Not even a date for the initial consultation yet. Don’t hold your breath.

Alternative psychotherapy

Joanna’s previous therapist (whose funding didn’t get renewed in the LA handover debacle) has recommended that Joanna have EMDR therapy which sounds a bit strange at first but seems to get great results. An ASF application for funding went in two months ago. PAS are supposed to be chasing it and/or funding it themselves. Again, no news.

FASD assessment

We continue to pursue an FASD assessment for Charlotte. The paediatrician has bounced it back to the GP with a permissions form for us to complete. Sounds straightforward, but they expect us to sign to say that we’ll accept the panel’s verdict about what happens next, which could mean Charlotte actually seeing the paediatrician, but could be them sending us on a parenting course. That is one of the options they can prescribe and if we sign the form, we’re saying that’s acceptable, which it isn’t. Obviously. I’m very much up for any course that is FASD-specific, but not as an alternative to actually seeing a medical professional who can make a diagnosis. So we haven’t signed, and the school nurse is having a conversation with the GP about it all. Again, no news for a week or so. I’m expecting a call any day.

The book

After a ridiculously long hiatus which we’ll put down to ‘dealing with life’, I’m resuming work on my self-care book. (Hurrah.) This week I’ve completed a first draft of the first chapter and have sent it to some agents I’m meeting next month. (If I say that quickly it doesn’t sound as scary.) More details will follow, and there will almost certainly be more requests for people to be case studies for various aspects of self-care in the weeks/months to come. Watch this space.

Self-care

I between all this, I have my now annual self-care week – a solo trip to soak up some restorative mountain views, sleep, practise my excruciatingly poor German language skills, shut down a few of those headspin-inducing tabs for a whole, and generally be Hannah, not just mum. That’s coming up in a couple of weeks, or to be precise (not that I’m counting…)

I. Cannot. Wait.

Peace! Sachertorte! Mountains! Strudel! Maybe the occasional yodel… I am so thankful for the airmiles that Pete clocks up with work.

So in the next 24 hours I’ll be sticking my Teach Yourself German cassettes on again (‘Ist der Garten schön? Ja, der Garten ist schön…’) and battening down the hatches for half term. I hope yours is a (relatively) peaceful one.

PS I’m sorry if you’re sick of seeing this on Twitter. But I’d be so grateful if you could spare a minute to vote for me in the #BiBs awards if you like what I have to say about the importance of self-care for adoptive parents. Thanks.


BEFORE YOU GO…

  • If you found this post helpful or interesting, please vote for it. Thanks! 🙂
  • You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. I love to talk to fellow adopters.
  • You can also sign up here to receive my monthly newsletter. It contains my recent blog posts, my favourite adoption-related blog posts by others, and relevant resources from around the web.
Please share, like, and follow

Peer-led adoption support: The Cornerstone Partnership

The Cornerstone Partnership is a social enterprise based in Maidenhead. They work in adoption support and foster care recruitment, retention and support across 14 local authorities in London and the south-east. They’re looking for experienced adopters to run their peer-led adoption support programme (and be paid for it), and have asked me to share this with you.

Could you run a post-adoption support group?

Are you an experienced adopter? Are you looking for a flexible business opportunity within adoption services or support?

The Cornerstone Partnership is seeking people to run their peer-led adoption support programme across the country. The Cornerstone programme is a three-pronged approach with support from the very beginning of the assessment through to post-adoption-order.

The Cornerstone PartnershipIt includes structured peer mentoring, therapeutic parenting training and support groups. The success of the programme centres on placing end users at the very heart of the model.

Could you help other adopters on their journey? If you’re looking for an opportunity to fit around family life, visit the Cornerstone website (www.thecornerstonepartnership.com) and download the application form at http://bit.ly/2pKntcp.

If you have questions, please contact The Cornerstone Partnership directly on 01628 636376
or enquiries@thecornerstonepartnership.com. Or do you know someone else who’d be great at this? Please send it their way. Thanks!


BEFORE YOU GO…

  • If you found this post helpful or interesting, please vote for it. Thanks! 🙂
  • You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. I love to talk to fellow adopters.
  • You can also sign up here to receive my monthly newsletter. It contains my recent blog posts, my favourite adoption-related blog posts by others, and relevant resources from around the web.
Please share, like, and follow

10 mental health challenges for adoptive parents

It’s Mental Health Awareness Week. To mark the occasion, and because I believe that the mental health of adoptive parents is both (a) critical to the success of adoptive placements and (b) massively overlooked and under-resourced, here are my 10 mental health challenges for adoptive parents.

Keep reading below for my five possible solutions, and my rallying call for a new campaign.

10 Mental Health Challenges For Adoptive Parents

10 mental health challenges

These are just some of the things I  – and many others – deal with on a daily/weekly basis. Any one of these is difficult. Taken in combination they are a threat to good mental health.

  1. The fight to be respected as an authority on what is best for my children, not dismissed as ‘just Mum’ because my professional qualifications are in a different area.

  2. The fight to get them the support they need. The constant stream of forms, appointments, phone calls, waiting lists, and rejected applications.

  3. Frequently explaining to professionals and passers-by that actually, it isn’t our parenting that’s the problem.

  4. Battling to stay regulated while the children scream in my face, throw things at me, and try to hurt me, because I gave them their lunch, or asked them to put their shoes on, or said it was bedtime. (Read more about child-on-parent violence in adoptive families.)

  5. Helping them to become regulated again after a meltdown when I want to curl up under the duvet on my own and release some of the stress with a good cry.

  6. Trying not to dwell on the hurtful things they said while they were angry, and convincing myself they didn’t mean them.

  7. Living in fear of confrontations with other parents because of my child’s behaviour towards theirs.

  8. Making time for self-care, only to have it interrupted by a call from school because they can’t cope and want me to go and calm my child or collect her.

  9. Trying to ensure the children hear consistent messages about their worth and behaviour at school and at home; that they’re not thought of as ‘naughty’.

  10. Being the administrator and communications hub for every aspect of my children’s care. The meetings. The emails. The phone calls, the form-filling. The trying to get all the different parties – PAS, GP, CAMHS, OT, EP, psychotherapist, school – to speak to each other and just copy me in on emails. Trying to manage them all is a full-time job in itself. On top of my actual job. And therapeutic parenting. Oh, and self-care. And having a marriage that benefits from time spent together outside of childcare and meetings and paperwork.

Aaaarrrggggghhhh.

So what’s the solution? If only there was a neat answer. I have a few suggestions though.

5 possible solutions

  1. Prioritise self-care. MummyWriter wrote an excellent post on this recently, and you can use my free self-care resources to get started. Until things change on a wider scale, we have to manage this for ourselves. I’m sorry, it’s rubbish that it’s like this, but it is. Look after yourself. Start here.

  2. Connect with the adoption community. Reach out to other in the same situation. Twitter is especially excellent for this, but I also go to Adoption UK’s local meetings and other informal gatherings of adopters. I recommend going to adoption conferences and training courses whenever you possibly can, not just for the content, but to meet other adoptive parents and to experience being among people who understand. I don’t know how people manage without the support of other adopters. This is such a massive source of sanity for me.

  3. Don’t sweat the small stuff. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, pick your battles, both in terms of the children’s behaviour and the stuff you fight for with school and support services. Sometimes (most of the time?) you can be fighting battles on multiple fronts simultaneously. Of course you’re exhausted. You need support. Get the people who are supportive to fight some of them for you. Put some of the others on hold until next week. And then go and have a sleep.

  4. Don’t vote Conservative. I’m sorry to get political here but the cuts to social care imposed by Conservative governments have played a huge part in getting us into the current mess, where tiny budgets and understaffing restrict the help received by vulnerable people. THIS IS HORRIBLE. Vote for those who will fund social care, mental health, and the NHS in general. We need those things.

  5. Ask the powers that be for a proper national campaign, like the ‘Maternal Mental Health Matters’ one that ran last week. Not just the constant recruitment ads for new adopters. Adoption agencies need to care for the adoptive parents who are already living this, in at the deep end, because without us the whole business falls apart. The adoption charities need to work together on this. The voluntary agencies are probably a bit better at this than the LAs. Let’s share good practice and be open about what’s needed.

So let’s start working towards the launch of an Adoptive Parents’ Mental Health Week. Heck, I’m claiming the #APMHW hashtag now.

Join in! Tweet a few LAs and VAs and ask them to think about it. Something like this, perhaps:

Let’s make this happen. Because we’ve earned it. 


BEFORE YOU GO…

  • If you found this post helpful or interesting, please vote for it. Thanks! 🙂
  • You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. I love to talk to fellow adopters.
  • You can also sign up here to receive my monthly newsletter. It contains my recent blog posts, my favourite adoption-related blog posts by others, and relevant resources from around the web.
Please share, like, and follow

Review | The Special Parent’s Handbook

This book covers it all. From food issues to advocating for your child, via handling meltdowns and battling with paperwork, The Special Parent’s Handbook addresses everything with the humour and practical advice that comes from hard-won first-hand experience. Whether your child’s issues are physical, mental, or emotional/behavioural, there is something here for you.

Professionals should read this too. There is so much here about the impact of being relegated to a mere ‘service user’ on actual human beings. The Powers That Be could learn a lot from The Special Parent’s Handbook about how our mutual interactions can be improved by listening – really listening – to young people and their parents.

Review: Special Parent's Handbook

About the (amazing) author

I first became aware of Yvonne in March this year. She was tweeting about an event she was organising for parents of children with violent, challenging behaviour, or VCB. As I fall into that category twice over, I signed up straight away, and on Saturday 1 April joined 80 other parents in London for the conference.

At the conference, a well as hearing from a number of experts in the NHS and legal fields (find them all on this Twitter list) about their perspective on children with additional needs and helping them to access services, Yvonne spoke about her experience with her son Toby. As is usually the case, the people who live this are the ones who are most helpful. Yvonne talked about how she helps Toby to regulate by reducing instructions to short phrases, often sung to him to remove any stress from her own voice which could cause his behaviour to escalate.

It completely blows my mind that Yvonne wrote this book in four weeks flat having received a terminal cancer diagnosis. Yvonne – I know you’ll read this – you are such an inspiration and I have no idea where you find all your energy. Thank you. What you have achieved in this book and continue to achieve through all your campaigning and bringing people together is amazing, and I know there are hundreds of us who appreciate it all. (Do please remember to put your feet up occasionally!)

So. Why is the book so good?

About The Special Parent’s Handbook

The Special Parent’s Handbook is gold. In my Amazon review I summarised it like this:

This book is great. Yvonne has such a depth of experience and the wisdom that comes from having learned a lot of things the hard way. Her family’s story is told with humour, grace, and insight and in a way that makes it all very relatable. Her advice on accessing services you didn’t know existed and on battling for the help your family needs is invaluable. I related to so much of the content. It should be required reading for all the professionals we encounter as well as for SEND parents and their friends and families.

What it covers

Toby has a combination of disabilities: learning difficulties, autism, and a physical disability which means that he needs to be tube-fed. You might wonder, then, how his mum’s unique experiences with him translate into more broadly applicable advice for other parents. Yvonne has managed this well, by separating the advice into chapters by topic while also weaving in her family’s own story. To give a flavour of the wide-ranging advice, here are a few of the chapter titles:

  • The Advancing Army of Professionals
  • Building your Support Network
  • Siblings
  • Becoming the Expert
  • Being in Hospital
  • Hospital Appointments
  • CAMHS
  • Education
  • Social Services
  • Food Issues
  • Meltdowns

My children Joanna and Charlotte have no physical disabilities, so although I read it cover to cover, I particularly honed in on the chapters to do with support, both formal and informal, and on the behavioural stuff (meltdowns, siblings, and food issues). It addresses these incredibly well. The writing style is conversational and very accessible, making it ideal reading for exhausted parents with little residual brainpower at the end of a difficult day!

Real-life advice

Though Yvonne’s children are not adopted, there is a huge amount of overlap in the types of services she has needed to access, and the battle to be heard and respected as a parent is the same across education, health, and social care. I thought Yvonne’s advice on this aspect of parenting was one of the highlights. It includes tips such as putting a framed photo of your child on the table in important meetings, to remind the professionals that this is about the child, not their budgets and policies. My Kindle highlight facility went into overdrive on this book because it contains so much real-life helpful advice. You know what I mean. Actual practical stuff that helps. This is the book’s focus. She nails it.

Summary

Review | The Special Parent's HandbookI recommend this book wholeheartedly. Whatever additional needs your child has, the guidance on advocating for them, on surviving as a special needs parent, and on doing it all with your sanity and sense of humour intact are all here. Adoptive parents may even rejoice that there is no specific mention of post-adoption support, though social services in general are comprehensively addressed.

Once you’ve read the book, I can also recommend connecting with Yvonne online. You can find her on Twitter (@YvonneNewbold), through her website (yvonnenewbold.com), and through her various Facebook pages: The SEND Parent’s Handbook and Breaking the Silence on VCB.

THE DETAILS

The Special Parent’s Handbook
Yvonne Newbold
Amity House
£12.33 (Kindle £7.36)


BEFORE YOU GO…

  • If you found this post helpful or interesting, please vote for it. Thanks! 🙂
  • You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. I love to talk to fellow adopters.
  • You can also sign up here to receive my monthly newsletter. It contains my recent blog posts, my favourite adoption-related blog posts by others, and relevant resources from around the web.
Please share, like, and follow

How to find an SEBD school: the fight begins

Where on earth do you start when you realise your child’s behaviour has reached a point where you need to accept a label of SEBD (social, emotional and behavioural difficulties) or SEMH (social, emotional, and mental health) issues and start to find an SEBD school?

This is where we now find ourselves.

The latest fight for the right support has begun.

How To Find an SEBD School

Monday: transition planning

On Monday, we had an INSET day. It’s now an established routine for us to visit school on the last day of the holidays to help with the transition back, so we did that. The girls took their PE kits in and hung them on their pegs, reclaiming their spaces. We traipsed into the classrooms and said hello to the teachers.

And then the teachers kept them occupied for half an hour while we talked to the head about the transition back, particularly about how Joanna was going to handle it after her three-day exclusion for violence at the end of last term. We explained that she was not in a good place mentally, because her learning support assistant is changing to a job-share arrangement with a second person; she was worried what others in her class would say about The Incident and her exclusion; and she had heard a rumour that her ‘boyfriend’ (yes, they are only eight years old) was now pursuing the girl in her class of whom she is jealous. (This girl is clever. She’s calm. People aren’t frightened of her.)

And then we discussed the forthcoming EHCP review. The head had sent us the paperwork a few days before, and we took our draft in to show her. Her comments on the form had included the question of whether her current (mainstream primary) school was able to meet her needs. In other words: they are not coping. Joanna is only in the class half the time; the other half is spent elsewhere with her LSA, either trying to head off a meltdown they have seen brewing, or calming down after they didn’t manage to stop it. They don’t have the space or specialist training to handle her level of violence. It’s just not safe. More of this in a moment.

Tuesday: the latest incident

They went back to school. Pete went off to work. I started on my own work. And then at 10.30 my mobile rang. I always have a sense of dread when I see that it’s school.

‘Hi, it’s Amy from the school office. Joanna’s just jumped over the school wall [which has a 7ft drop the other side] and we think she might be heading home – could you walk this way and keep a look out for her?’

Gaaaaahhh.

It’s a ten-minute walk to school that is pretty much field all the way. This is all very bucolic and safe in theory, but there are little copses of trees and a river and plenty of child-snatching opportunities for those so inclined. I walked our usual route with my eyes on stalks. As I approached the school I saw Joanna’s LSA. I called out ‘Do you know where she is?’ She shrugged and gestured around the corner. It was at this point I did start to seriously worry. I went in that direction, doing a full circuit of the school before getting back to the school gate.

And then I finally saw Joanna, in the school garden, shouting and screaming at the headteacher. I’ll take that over being run over or kidnapped.

I went in. I got screamed at too. Joanna was full-on dysregulated. She threw a bucket at me. I caught it. She threw a handful of grass cuttings at the head. I could read the head – she wanted me, ‘the Joanna expert’, to take charge. I could read Joanna. She needed me to. So within ten minutes, I had got her from full-on rage to sitting at a picnic bench doing Lego. The staff all went inside, and Joanna and I had a chat. I did some Lego too, sitting beside her, deliberately not making eye contact and trying to look absorbed in what I was making.

‘So, I see something’s been really difficult for you this morning. I wonder what that was.’

‘The classroom’s all different. They gave me a SPAG test and I’d already done it before and it was boring. And I had Mrs X [the usual LSA] and they said it was going to be Mrs Y [the new one]. That’s why I’m cross.’

‘Yeah, that’s not what I was expecting today either. I’m not surprised you’re cross. I understand.’

And then after a few more minutes of Lego, I walked her back to her classroom. The head and deputy head were waiting. We went to the head’s office and the head started asking her questions. ‘What happened? What can we do you help you?’ Joanna squirmed on my lap. This was too much for her.

‘It would help Joanna if we could talk in statements rather than questions at the moment, please. Questions will be too overwhelming for her.’

The others took this in. I explained what Joanna had told me outside – all the unexpected things that had upset her. They nodded. Then Joanna piped up that she needed a printed timetable, like she’d had in Year 2. (I thought she still had this. Why do they remove stuff that’s working?) They nodded. I asked Joanna if she still had her mindfulness colouring book that helps her calm down. ‘No, I finished it.’ I whipped out my phone and she chose one from Amazon on the spot. (I tried not to do my ‘look, it really is this easy’ face. The head showed me the list of half a dozen children who Joanna had injured during her meltdown. I was already picturing the lynching I was going to get at the school gate.

After a bit more discussion about what helps her, I took her back to her classroom. Her LSA was nowhere to be seen, so I stayed with Joanna in her maths lesson for 45 minutes until she reappeared. And then I walked home, calling Pete en route. Not quite the restorative day of peace and quiet I was hoping for.

Wednesday: the debrief

Pete and I dropped the girls at school. We went in to see the head and discuss Tuesday’s events without the presence of small ears. She said she was desperately concerned about her ability to (a) keep Joanna safe if she was intent on scaling walls, and (b) keeping the other children safe is Joanna was going to start attacking them when she became dysregulated (previously she has always gone for staff, not children). She asked us for ideas. We said we’d told her everything we knew already.

Thursday: the sensory assessment

Joanna’s sensory assessment at 10.00am. For which we received seven forms to complete at 7.00 am. I managed two before the OT arrived. This was fine. The OT was amazing. She took a brief rundown from us and then had Joanna crawling through a Lycra tunnel, throwing a ball at a target, and drawing a picture of herself. She picked up things that no-one had spotted before, such as hypermobile joints in her hands which would make writing harder work than average (which would explain why she finds English frustrating, as her super-creative brain is streets ahead of her ability to write for long periods of time).

Friday: the EHCP review

And then the day we’ve been anticipating for a few weeks. The EHCP review. We’d already spent upwards of six hours on the paperwork and the research. Everyone assembled: us, the headteacher, the class teacher, our social worker (well, technically it was our social worker’s manager, but we see more of her these days because we are those parents who advocate loudly), an SEN officer from the LA, and our EP’s manager (because our EP doesn’t do Fridays).

We did introductions. I put a framed photo of Joanna on the table in front of me and Pete. There was half an hour of general waffle to start with. I wanted to cut to the chase. I brought up the issue of school not coping and the head’s suggestion of alternative provision. Boom. Let’s get this going.

The head then spoke about Tuesday’s incident and her fear that Joanna was going to seriously injure herself or another child. The concern that she is really bright and still meeting her targets despite missing half the lessons, but how she could be achieving so much more with the right support. And then the issue of other schools was in play. Bring it on.

How to Find an SEBD school

It was Joanna’s former therapist who suggested a specialist boarding school. We had considered it before in a moment of ‘it’s this or disruption’, but having it suggested by a professional made it feel like it was something we were officially sanctioned to investigate. So I came home from our meeting with her and Googled ‘boarding schools for violent children’. Bingo.

Straight away I found one that sounded amazing. They had lots of looked-after and formerly-looked-after children there. They understood about early trauma and the reasons behind behaviour like Joanna’s. All the psychotherapists and OTs and facilities were available on-site, and these were an integral part of school life. And they took both day pupils and boarders on a weekly or termly basis.

When we had the meeting with our current headteacher on Monday, I gave her a printout of the school prospectus. Pete and I spelt out all the reasons why it looked like a great option for Joanna. The head agreed, but named two other state-run SEBD schools that the LA would be bound to prefer, primarily on cost grounds.

We went home and looked those up too. There was a lot of scouring of websites, learning of the SEBD jargon, reading of policies and comparing and contrasting. The LA-run schools don’t really compare. One has a behaviour policy with which children must comply. Um, hold on. Where is the mention of trauma-informed care?

The non-maintained school is closer, despite being outside of our LA. It is more specialist in terms of understanding early trauma. It takes boarders, which is a big deal for us as it would give us some respite from Joanna’s violence (though we’d still have Charlotte’s to deal with) and allow their needs to be met individually instead of as a package deal. This would also be great for Joanna, who finds transitions really hard. And one of the key selling points for us: this school take pupils from primary age right through to 18. So we’d avoid yet another transition to secondary school.

The EHCP again

We presented these arguments at the EHCP review. Alternatives were suggested. We’d done our homework and explained why the alternatives were not as good. Obviously, people mentioned the issue of The Cost. I played my trump card: a marvellous piece of research: the NASS cost comparison report. What a beauty.

This document (honestly, I could kiss it) examines the cost of non-maintained special schools against equivalent packages of support when provided by the LA. And it comes out in favour of the non-maintained schools, which offer a holistic approach, take out the stress of patching together a package of support, and are often cheaper than LA provision, especially when weekly boarding is weighed against the cost of daily transport.

And, to our immense frustration, the conversation suddenly finished when the SEN officer stood up and said his car was parked at Sainsbury’s and he had to go. What, is our daughter not worth the £1.60 it costs to park in the public car park right outside? Me and Pete were Not Pleased. Anyway, he left and the lovely EP manager told us exactly what we need to do to get the SEN board to agree to our choice of school. She’s been on very similar boards and knows the system.

#win. Take that, Mr SEN Officer. .

What next?

Mrs EP Manager has told us to visit all three schools under discussion. Great. We didn’t have time to do this before the meeting, so our analysis was all based on the websites. But lining up a few visits is no problem. Then she advised us to write a thorough comparison, based on our visits as well as our reading. It carries more weight if we write from that perspective. It’ll also help if Joanna writes something to submit, explaining why her current school isn’t meeting her needs. (This will be tricky to do without telling her we’re looking at another school, but I’m sure I can work it out.)
How To Find An SEBD School

Meanwhile school need to gather evidence from every possible source. Behaviour logs. Therapists’ reports. Social work reports. A letter from the GP, perhaps. The letters of complaint from other parents (not sure I want to see those, thanks). And then we send it all off to the SEN panel and they decide. Obviously the next panel is this coming week and we have no chance of getting everything together in time.

And the next one after that? It’s not until OCTOBER. So realistically, we’re looking at January at the earliest.

Honestly.

But we’ve started the process, at least. Our girl is worth it. And so the fight begins. But we’ve started the process, at least. Our girl is worth it. And so the fight begins.


You might also like to read 30 questions to ask SEBD schools.30 Questions To Ask SEBD Schools

 

 

 

 


BEFORE YOU GO…

    • If you found this post helpful or interesting, please vote for it. Thanks! 🙂
    • You can find me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest. I love to talk to fellow adopters.
    • You can also sign up here to receive my monthly newsletter. It contains my recent blog posts, my favourite adoption-related blog posts by others, and more excellent resources from around the web.
Please share, like, and follow