FOSTERING - KNOW YOUR ONIONS

I was watching the TV news, a camera crew was on the streets of Belfast asking members of the public about the Troubles.

An elderly man said something that's stayed with me;

"Anyone who thinks they understand the Troubles in Northern Ireland doesn't really know what's going on."

See, I think the same about fostering.

The last thing a foster parent should think is that they know all they need to know about fostering.

Almost every day in fostering we foster parents stub our toe on some bedpost that wasn't there yesterday. It might be something specific to our current foster child, or the way the ways of the world in general are impacting them. Or the way they impact our home and family.

We have a child who's been with us long-term, and we no longer think of him as anything other than family. He's simply our son. Not our "foster son'. He's our boy.

We know him inside out. We love him, respect him and cherish every moment with him. He's a brilliant young man; he's been through very rough times and keeps fighting, not only for himself but for others who are battling to be happy. He's a champion. A hero. 

Such young people are not thick on the ground. We got lucky.

However, we now have our newest and most recent addition.

And the job is on. The job is to learn from the child the child's version of their story, because their version is the one that matters.

Alicia, aged 14, is starting the process of transitioning from being identified as male to being identified as female. 

On Sunday the house was quiet, everyone was out except me and Alicia. I was nursing a Sunday roast. The smells of home cooking are catnip to young people who've never smelled suchlike. Alicia appeared at the kitchen wondering if there was a diet Coke left in the fridge. There was. Not only that there was a muffin in the larder, right up to its best before date, going brittle at the edges. Alicia could do the household a favour by seeing it off. 

I joined Alicia at the kitchen table, Alicia with a Coke and cake, me with the half-glass of red I treat myself to when doing Sunday lunch.The first thing I needed to get from Alicia was whether Alicia wanted to be regarded as a "she" or a "they".

Best to tiptoe in.

The job is to listen. But you can only listen when someone's talking, and she was shy - of course - and guarded - of course- so I started off easy; "I'm roasting onions. Do you like onions?"

Little or no response, as if Alicia knew I was pussy-footing to butter up the important stuff.

Me: "I should get a list of your favourite meals so I can fit them in."

Food is SUCH good currency with children coming in to care. It's almost universal that they haven't been well fed. You get kids who've never been cooked a home meal, never eaten off a plate, don't know how to use a knife and fork.

Alicia sat thinking about the question, then said "Steak. Sushi. Caviar."

OK. Many thanks to the internet (Alicia has a phone).

Our chat meandered on. Start light then hone in on what one needs to know.

My big question was going to be; "Are you presenting as a "She" or a "They"?"

And I got there in the end. But, know what? Alicia was so cool about the question I learned I should have simply asked it up front.

Alicia loved being asked the question, and grew in front of me when she answered proudly "She".

"I'm a she."

Alicia went upstairs to her room. 

So now I'm stood at the work surface topping and tailing green beans, lopping brocolli spears, peeling carrots.

Ah, carrots.

We had a foster child stay with us who left us with this huge home truth, he said:

"No-one actually likes carrots. People just use them to brighten up a plate of dull-looking food."

He was aged seven.

Like I said earlier, you learn something new every day in fostering.

So, I'm stood dicing at the work surface drumming something into myself. Namely; to only refer to Alicia as female.

It's now essential to say; "Is she ready to get in the car?", "Is that her backpack in the hall?"

Alicia is too young for any medical intervention, but has been offered a person to talk to.

As a foster mum, ploughing into this territory, praise be I have our Blue Sky social worker at my back. These guys know their onions. 

Ah, onions.

My next thing is to ask her; "What next for Alicia?"