Wise words

‘Since in sober truth things are so ordered that children can only have their being and their lives at the expense of our being and our lives, we ought not to undertake to be fathers if that frightens us.’

‘I condemn all violence in the education of tender minds which are being trained for honour and freedom. In rigour and constraint there is always something servile, and I hold that you will never achieve by force what you cannot achieve by reason, intelligence and skill.’

Michel de Montaigne. ‘On the affection of fathers for their children’. c1580-1590

Ready steady go

On the way back from G-’s family [S-'s grandparents], my chest infection was really getting the better of me. I couldn’t help coughing every 5 minutes or so.

In the back of the car S- was absorbed in pulling off her socks and shoes and studying her feet. ‘Cough cough,’ she said, ruminatively.

A little later she perked up a bit. ‘Daddy?’

‘Yes, S-’.

‘-eay.’

It took me a little while to get it but eventually I cottoned on.

‘Ready,’ she’d say.

‘Steady,’ I’d add.

And ‘Go!’ she’d say.

And then I’d have to cough, which made her chuckle.

And so we went on, down the motorway, for about an hour.

For the best?

I posted a question thread about Contact on the message boards at Adoption UK and among other responses got this list of the potential benefits of children meeting their birth parents:

• The child will know the birth parents care
• There will be a direct link for information if something important happens in the birth family or if there’s a need to know more about, for example, appropriate medical history
• The child will have no illusions about their birth parents
• The child will know that adoption and their birth parents are not taboo subjects and that their origins are accepted, at least by their adoptive parents

[UPDATE 14.07.08] After meeting X- and Y-, G- and I have decided not to go ahead with plans for direct contact between S- and her birth parents as it would be in nobody’s interests, least of all S-’s.

This was partly our own decision but also based on advice from social workers. X- and Y- have just not accepted the fact of S-’s adoption, and it’s unlikely that they ever will. We feel terrible for them as they feel – with perhaps some justification – that they’ve been badly treated by social services, but we really can’t afford to get involved with their problems: it’s S- we’ve got to think about now.

Having said all that, we’re glad to have met the people who brought S- into the world. Now we can at least tell S- a little bit about them and try to give her a clearer idea of why they couldn’t look after her, despite the fact that they loved her with all their hearts.

We’ve promised to write to X- and Y- a letter saying how pleased we were to meet them, and we have also committed to writing to them once a year with news [and, possibly, photos] of S [so called indirect contact]. Will we hear back from them? Who knows? At the moment that hardly seems the point.

As so many people have said, the theory of direct contact is all well and good but in practice things always seem so much more complex and difficult.

Bottom line

Perhaps it’s the re-emergence of X- and Y- that’s making me question things a little more than usual. Out at a restaurant last night S- and two girls of around 4 and 5 years had a riot, running around a table, shrieking and laughing and hugging each other while we waited for our banoffee pie.

Was it my imagination or could I see the question in the girls’ parents’ eyes? Were they looking at S- and comparing her big blue eyes and light features with my own green eyes and G-’s brown hair?

To be different in some way is to feel exposed, at least sometimes. It’s how you deal with it that’s important. When S- evaded the excited 5-year-old’s grip and hightailed it for the open front door, I was up and out of my seat and legging it after her as quick as any biological dad.

Letting go

I know how I would feel if S- was to suddenly disappear from my life, but I’m not sure I could explain it here. Our children are more important than words.

This last sentence explains I think why I’m happy that S-’s birth parents, X- and Y-, have recently contacted social services and seem to be keen to start making contact with us, with an eventual view to seeing S- in the flesh.

In-flight entertainment

We’re usually pretty strict on S-’s diet, especially when it comes to snacks and in-between meals. But after an hour or so on the flight back from Menorca, when her wriggling was on the verge of tipping into thrashing, we decided to ditch our principles.

The moral principle

Generally, I’m not one for the big issues: I prefer to test my philosophy and my psychological strategies in the humdrum of daily life. But it is easy to have big, clear thoughts when you’re on holiday and away from all this.

On our previous trip abroad, in Sicily, G- and I had spent time discussing Happiness, the book by Richard Layard which I believe I’ve mentioned before on this blog.

Happiness is the coming thing – there is a whole new science developing, apparently. It’s key principles seem rational enough and for a while I was something of a convert. However, in hindsight, there was always something nagging away at me about it.