Five years ago yesterday I was sitting at home when the phone rang, "There's a little baby girl in hospital who may need somewhere to stay for a bit, are you free?" Sketchy details given, and the social worker would get back to me later. At 8PM the phone rang again "Yes, you're definitely needed, won't be until the weekend though". That was Wednesday.
Five years ago today, Thursday morning, I had a phone call "How fast can you get to the hospital?" This being my life, I happened to have one or two minor little appointments on the Thursday - social workers travelling down from the north of the country to discuss a potential adoption (had to track them down on the motorway and send them home again), carpet fitters coming to fit carpetting to our staircase (my own social worker came and house-sat for them), organise someone to meet Goldy from school, etcetera and so on. I did particularly enjoy one phone call -
"Mum, I'm having a baby."
"That's nice dear, when?"
"In about half an hour, got to go now!"
Several hours after arriving at the hospital a small bundle of bewilderment was handed over to me. Thick black baby hair, newborn baby clothes despite being several months old, able to suck, vomit, and cry. And the most beautiful eyes. Blind eyes at that point, which gazed out into space somehow expressing the utter confusion and chaos of her life. She did not know who she was, where she was, what she was doing, she needed to be held all the time, and she only stopped crying long enough to be sick. There were severe medical problems, severe disabilities, uncertain futures, and so many people involved in her life, loving her so much and completely worn down by the effort of loving and caring for this little scrap of humanity whilst still adjusting to the complexity of her problems.
Today that little tiny baby is the most beautiful, slender, elegant little girl. Long and sleek, secure in the knowledge that she has two families who love her and are committed to her. A wonderful sense of humour, eyes which speak volumes and a smile which splits her face in two, a laugh which melts the hardest of hearts. True, she is very severely disabled and her medical issues mount as she gets older. But she has changed my life forever.
I am so grateful to her birth parents for allowing me to raise their child. I am so desperately sorry for all the good things about our child which they miss out on. And every single minute of the day I am thankful that I have Mog in my life, that every morning I get to make her smile, and every evening I get to tuck my little girl up into bed and kiss her goodnight.
Happy Anniversary, Mog.