Saul is now so settled he has his place in our family. This is a situation that we aim for even though it can mean that if and when he goes it'll be a wrench.
One of the first things I remember learning at a training session - and making sure I put into practice - is that foster parents should offer attachment to a new child from the moment they walk through the door. Even if the child is only due to stay one night.
Come to think of it, how could anyone not?
I guess the thing is that when we start to foster we are in new territory. Even if we've had children of our own, fostering is markedly different; it's someone else's child. I remember being nervous about doing what came naturally as a mum in case fostering a child was different from rearing a child of your own.
I was pleased and relieved to be instructed that from the get go, you should reach out to the child.
Sean got the full treatment the moment he arrived. I stuck metaphorical sticking plasters onto every emotional cut and scratch he had.
Here's a small token example that's satyed in my mind.
Saul didn't like the dark. No surprise there, most children don't.
His bedroom is small, we sometimes call it the box room. I've found that certain children like small spaces, they feel more secure.
The first night I put Saul to bed I didn't wait for him to get frightned about the dark, I simply said;
"I usually leave the landing light on and the bedroom door about half open. Shall we see if that suits you?
I turned off his main bedroom light and waited a moment while his eyes adjusted to a bedroom lit on ly by the light from the landing.
"Too dark." he whispered.
I opened the bedroom door a bit more.
"Still too dark".
I turned on his main light.
He didn't like that either. Hmmm.
His bed has a small table lamp next to it. I turned that on and turned off the main light. He didn't like that either, it made scary shadows on the wall.
Nearly stumped now. Except…I was aware he was taking comfort from my attention to his needs.
I had a brainwave. In my bedroom I have a bedside lamp that's got a dimmer switch. I fetched it and set it up. Saul was intrigued, not only in the dimmer switch. He was fascinated that I was prepared to give up my lamp to help him feel ok.
The whole effort worked, kind of. He had a source of light that he could entirely control. When I went downstairs ten minutes later (I hung around to help him feel accompanied) he was brightneing then darkening his room. He was asleep.
He woke about 2.00am, at least it was 2.00am when he woke us up, crying. I got to him in the shake of a lamb's tail, see I sleep in trackie bottoms and a t shirt ever since I heard the tale of a foster carer who had to take a child to A and E in the middle of the night in her nightie and dressing gown as there wasn't tkime for her to get dressed.
First thing I did was turn on his light, that calmed him down. And talked to him. I said the usual things about how everything was alright and that he was safe and that it's normal to feel funny first night in a strange bed. I was building up to my best trick;
"Would you like a bowl of Frosties or a bag of crisps?"
Not because he was particularly hungry but because he was distracted by having the opportunity to make a nice decision.
He now sleeps through.
Did I get my lamp back. Not yet.
Did he go for cereal or crisps?
As I remember, both.
Obviously.
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