In the days leading up to meeting QT for the first time, I often wondered and worried if she’d like me. Would she smile when she first saw me? Would she accept me? Would she let me be her mother? Would she choose me, just as we had chosen her….

Well, something wonderful happened today. QT and I were in the garden enjoying the sun when she stopped playing with the bubble machine and came over and stood squarely in front of me with a serious look on her little face. After eyeing me up and down and studying my clothes for about ten seconds or so, she looked into my eyes.

‘Pretty. I wuv you Mummy,’  she said, and blew me a big kiss, complete with lipsmacking sound effects.

Of course, I scooped her up into my arms and told her how much I loved her before giving her a big kiss and tickling her tummy, making her squirm and squeal with delight. And in that very moment I knew for sure… she’d chosen me to be her Mummy.

It never fails to amaze me just how ludicrous and quite frankly… nobbish, some people can be. There I was minding my own business at a village field party when a floral-clad woman came tearing across the field towards me, bringing herself to a breathless quivering halt right up close to QT’s buggy. So far, ok-ish, if we ignore the personal space contravention and waft of secondhand smoke beating around QT’s squeaky clean little-girl lungs. 

As I pulled the buggy back a smidge, Floral Woman clutched my arm, rearranged her face into some kind of silly condescending look and said,

‘Ooh, I‘ve heard all about you. Did you get very much support?’ flicking a QT a quick up-and-down look.  

‘Err, yes, everyone’s been wonderful,’ I replied slowly, racking my brains, trying to work out where she was going with this.

‘Well my sister is a foster carer and they just leave her to get on with it. She’s got a little boy placed with her who,’ she paused, swivelled her eyes around for dramatic impact, ‘is a little bit slow’, she mouthed. ‘But it’s no surprise as his parents are a little bit slow too.’ She flicked another look in QT’s direction.

‘And your point is?’ I managed before swinging the buggy around and striding off, leaving her doing a perfect impression of a floundering fish gasping for air.

Luck and love

Ax

During the adoption process I used to imagine being with QT, obviously I didn’t know she’d be QT back then, but, well… you know what I mean. Anyway, I envisaged allsorts, what would she look like, how old would she be, would she like me, would she hate me, would she be traumatised, would she be sweet, would she be pretty (yes I know, shallow moi), would she be healthy, would she be…. I used to drive myself mad thinking about her, but the thing I relished the most, was just the thought of being with her, doing things, things to make her happy, things I never got to do as a child.

And you know what, today was like a dream come true, we spent a sunny afternoon in the garden together. Is simples. The way she shouted at the doorstep as she struggled to push her walker into the garden. The way she giggled when a ladybird landed on the back of her hand. The way she gripped the swing and shrieked with delight when I pushed her up high, her little eyelids fluttering with glee.

Seeing her face light up then wrinkle with concern when she experienced her first ever grass encounter, and as many adopters know, those ‘firsts’ are so precious and we appreciate every single one of them. Perfect. Just a perfect day… and better than I ever imagined.

Luck and Love,

Ax

As an eternal optimist I’ll start with the good…QT’s first birthday, and what a celebration. It felt like a momentous milestone for many reasons, symbolising our utter joy at having QT in our lives and that my in-laws made it over from Ireland to meet their grandaughter for the first time. Cue an emotional meeting at the airport, QT with arms outstretched to Granny, followed by a big snuggy cuddle that could have been due to the soft wool coat that Granny was wearing, but I like to think that QT is indeed a real cutie, and was just plain old-fashioned thrilled to meet her.

On the actual day of QT’s birthday, I’m not sure who was most excited, me, Hubs or QT…oh alright, I was, but who wouldn’t be at the prospect of plunging into a huge bag full of glittery pink wrapped goodies, and that was on top of the suitcase crammed full of pressies that friends and family had kindly given the in-laws to bring over with them. Anyway, QT was an absolute star, and very touchingly, played with the toys without so much as a glance of interest in the cardboard packaging (smug Mummy moment), she even sat nicely and allowed Daddy to thumb through the picture book Aunty had sent over from San Francisco, babbling away at pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge, and giggling when Daddy attempted a sea lion roar, even if she did insist on shouting,

 ‘woof woof.’  But then I suppose a dog looks very much like a seal lion…when you’re only 12 months old.             

Next stop, Frankie and Benny’s, QT wore a shimmery matt-silver number with matching sparkly shrug, courtesy of Monsoon Baby, complete with tiny pink real ballet shoes. Having missed out on her morning nap, QT was a little trooper, treating everyone to her warm up routine of jazz hands followed by clap-clap and kisses, involving lots of slobby tongue action. QT doesn’t know yet that it’s a little brazen to lunge in for a snog on a first date, Hubs is monitoring the situation, puffing up his chest and stating,

‘no boyfriends until she’s at least thirty-five.’  Hmmm, could be trouble ahead.

Anyway, the precious memory moment came when an enormous frosted pink heart-shaped cake appeared, courtesy of another Aunty. The whole restaurant clapped along to a roaring rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ followed by ‘Congratulations’ belting out of the speakers. I’ll never, ever forget the look on QT’s little face when she realised the cake and applause was all for her, it touched my heart, so there she was jigging and swaying her little body away on the table top as I was bawling my eyes out like a right wimp. Perfect.

QT channelling a scary Halloween witches cat…. 

And now for the badness, not that it’s really that bad, but it still shook me and not in a good way. There I was, minding my own business again, this time in the chemist, when the assistant came charging around from behind the counter and exclaimed in a very loud voice,

‘ooh, how’s she settling in?’ Hmmm, immediately my mind went into overdrive, how did she know, when only the GP’s surgery were aware that QT was adopted, surely they wouldn’t have told her…patient confidentiality and all that. But then I suppose that’s village life, a neighbour most likely, or maybe it was the almighty big banner and balloons that my lovely friends pinned to the gate in celebration of QT’s homecoming day. Soo, in usual style, I slapped on another ‘kill them with kindness’ smile and announced,

‘ooh, do you mean after being adopted…well she’s doing really well, she’s been with us for a few months now and is an absolute darling.’ Weeell, ask me a direct question and I’ll give a direct answer, only her next comment left me completely speechless.

‘At least you admit it!’ Admit what…that she’s adopted, surely not, but what is there to admit? It’s not a secret, it certainly isn’t a stigma, it makes her special and precious, and us so very proud of her, just like any other child. So there!

And now for the ugly…

Yet again, I was minding my own business, when I bumped into someone that I only know to say hello to, when the topic turned to children, and this person said to me,

‘well, I was lucky enough to have children, unlike you for whatever reason!’ with a ‘hint-hint, go on tell me your sad story’ look on their nosey face. Smug or what??? But hey, to quote my glorious mother in law, herself an adoptive mother of three,

‘we let someone else do the pushing!’   

Until next time, luck and love,

Ax

QT getting ready for winter… 

So there I was, minding my own business in the village GP’s waiting room, when in breezed an elegant chignoned lady, dressed head to toe in vintage Aquascutum and wafting of Chanel No. 5 (the musty old one naturally).

In a pitch-perfect Lumley voice, she gave her name to the receptionist as Mrs Hooray-Henry-Dahling-Horseytype, then adjusted her box pleat skirt before brushing a bony hand over a chair and planting herself down.

QT, wriggling and babbling in her Cath Kidston buggy (bargain at half price in the Boots sale), started blowing raspberries and waving jazz hands at Mrs Hooray-Henry-Dahling-Horseytype, who took one stony glance before turning and fixing her cold Wedgewood blue eyes onto me.

‘She’s rather alert…did you breastfeed?’ she brayed, in a too-loud voice.

Feeling flummoxed, and a little bit wicked, I took a deep breath, shoved on one of my special ‘kill them with kindness’ smiles and told her,

‘actually, she was in care from birth and now she’s adopted.’  

Stifling a giggle, and wondering if she’d used a rotten fish to wax her moustache, Mrs Hooray-Henry-Dahling-Horseytype looked that disgusted, I made my way into the GP’s room, leaving her brain cogs chugging away as she tried to fathom it all out. Was that a yes or a no? 

And that dear reader is the exact moment when I knew that my gorgeous, funny, cheeky, beautiful, did I say gorgeous, yes gorgeous, newly-adopted baby girl and I…were going to have so much fun together.

Luck and love,

Ax

QT getting ready to party

I thought I’d start with some background information, so here goes….

After a four year journey, involving miscarriages and an eighteen month adoption process, my lovely husband and I brought our daughter home in July 2010. 

 We adopted from within the UK, and consider ourselves to be incredibly lucky to have experienced pregnancy, if only for a short time, and then to have been matched with a wonderful six month old baby girl.

When we found out about the first miscarriage, my husband and I made a pact that we’d pursue both routes to parenthood, conception and adoption, and let the universe decide how our child would come to us. We then went on the most amazing rollercoaster journey of utter joy mingled with devastating sorrow, and now every morning when I open my daughter’s bedroom door and see her standing in her cot with an enormous toothless granny-grin on her face, I know in my heart that what’s meant to be will be.

For us, adoption won out time after time, it didn’t let us down like pregnancy did. From the inital prep course, to the home visits and then approval panel and finally matching panel, it just felt ‘easy’, and I don’t mean to be blase as I know for some people the adoption process can be gruelling and intrusive. So all I can say is that we embraced it, we relished it and kept focussed on the end goal. A child of our own, to love and cherish forever. Unlike pregnancy, the adoption process pretty much guarantees an end result. And what a result!         

 I just wish I knew then what I know now. 

Best wishes

Ax

Abbreviations:-

SS = Social Services (they’re actually very nice)

LH = Lovely Husband (he’s rather nice too)

QT = The star of the show, our fabulous daughter