Tag Archives: birth parents

What To Write In Letterbox Contact

Letterbox Contact is a regular (in our case annual) letter sent between adopters and birth parents, via the adoption agency.

It’s a letter than may never be read, or may be read and treasured and read until it’s as fragile as a butterfly’s wings.

The first letter I sent was an agonising battle between being too personal (leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to our front door) or being as bland and impersonal as a tabloid horoscope. I didn’t even know how to start (Hello.. Dear Birth Mum, To Whom It May Concern – an experienced recounted in squirming detail in my book).

Now on my Nth letter, I have settled into a bit of a pattern, which I am sharing with you.

Why Do I Write?

  1. We agreed to write as part of our adoption process. It’s part of my duty to my children and to their birth parents.
  2. Our children willingly engage and are involved in the writing, and whilst they want a response, the lack thereof does not create obvious additional trauma. If it did, the choice would not be as easy to make.
  3. It feels like both the most and the least we can do – I imagine how I might feel as a birth parent estranged from her children and how desperate I may be for information. Whilst we do not know if the birth parents receive these letters from the agency, I know they will be kept on file in case the birth parents get in touch later and at least I have done what I was asked to do.
  4. I was and still am a bit of a teacher’s pet when it comes to doing what I am told and doing my homework, so I write it and hand it in on time, like the goody-two-shoes that I am.

Whilst we do not receive responses to our letters from their birth parents, we continue to write every year.  I keep copies of both the letters and any drawings we send in a folder that Nibbles and Bubbles will get to read and keep when they are older.

What NOT To Write

All adoption agencies will provide clear guidance on what NOT to include, but generally it is information that might reveal a specific location, such as:

  • Place Names – I might write that we went to the seaside, but not name the resort, or that we visited a castle, but not which one (even if it is hundreds of miles from our home address)
  • School Information – I write what year they are in, but not the name of the school (nor do I include names of teachers, classes, colour of school uniform, out of school clubs, or anything that could help them track the children to a specific school)
  • Photos – in our agreement, photographs are NOT included in letterbox, for some they are

What To Include

There are five main elements to my annual letterbox that I feel gives a rounded view of the children, whilst accepting that as a few pages of A4 the letter will always fall short of what a birth parent might wish to receive:

  1. Facts and Firsts
  2. Favourites
  3. Experiences
  4. A Specific Story
  5. A Drawing or Handprint

Facts and Firsts

Here I might write about how tall the children are, their shoe size, the school year they are in (or if they are now attending nursery). When younger, it might be the size of their clothes (now in size 18-24 months!!) or other relevant information to give a sense of physical growth. Factual information about their life and their current routine that gives an overview of the child.

In addition, I add their developmental milestones or Firsts. So things like first words, tying a shoelace, learning to spell their own name or to ride a bike, reading a book aloud, baking a cake or similar. These are the notable changes between the years and bring to life the child’s development.

You might want to think beyond things they learn in school such as reading & maths, and include personal skills (brushing their teeth, getting dressed), home skills (baking, washing up, helping with DIY), physical skills (riding a scooter, handstands, running) and hobbies (sewing, painting, Lego, Meccano, making a den, or computer games for online Whizz Kids).

Favourites

I love to include information about the children and their favourite things each year, which change as often as the people they want to invite to next year’s birthday party!  I might talk about Nibbles’ favourite joke, or Bubbles’ favourite book, or their favourite pop music (such as the Spanish song they currently sing incessantly without really knowing the words so it is a weird Burrito-infused earworm), the Floss, TV programmes, movies, food and more. It gives an insight into what the children really love about life, and the birth parents might note their own favourites amongst these things.

Experiences

This is the bulk of the letter – a bit of a “what have we done this year” overview – where holidays, day trips (but never school trips), unusual experiences, birthdays or Christmas get summarised in a few paragraphs. I don’t boast, but aim for a mix of unusual events and regular routines, like going to the library, going for a swim, meeting friends, having sunday lunch with family. It gives them a flavour of what their children have been doing over the year, both ordinary and extraordinary.

A Story

I then go from the generic to the specific – adding a short story that uses direct quotes from the children, to add a level of intimacy to the letter. It’s likely to be a specific incident that has happened recently and I tend to focus on things that made me laugh.

I include quoted lines from the kids, using their words and sentence structure. So years ago, I might have told a story about Nibbles, as I was busy tidying up and he zoomed his toy car under the kitchen table. He turned to me and pointed. As I ignored him, he sidled behind me and gave me a gentle shove on the bottom, saying sternly to me:

Car Mummy. Get it. You get it Mummy

His tone had me doubled over in laughter, whilst I commented that I was too big and he had to get it. He responded by patting me again and repeating “You get it.”

I believe (or hope) that having a tiny glimpse into their children’s lives can help them feel connected, even at this physical distance.

A Drawing or Handprint

In our Letterbox agreement, there is no provision for photographs of the children. We sometimes therefore include a drawing that the children their own time drawing – without much guidance, although I tend to discourage them from drawing a picture of their family (as that might be rubbing things in rather). You might also like to include a handprint, footprint, or outline of a hand that is coloured in.

Final Words

As I am writing the letter, I let Nibbles and Bubbles know that it is Letterbox time.

(This year I asked if they knew what letterbox was. Bubbles responded “I know what A letterbox is”!! But quickly clued in when I mentioned writing to their birth parents.)

I ask them if there is anything in particular they would want me to tell their birth parents, and ensure that I include that (if not on the banned list).  Once the letter is written, I let Andy have a read through and see if there is anything he feels needs adding, removing, amending or other. When we both feel that it is a good reflection of the year, I read it out slowly to Nibbles and Bubbles gauging their response.

Finally I ask them “Is there anything else you would like to ask or tell them?” Sometimes they come up with a question or add something specific, sometimes not. We shall see what happens this year, but as they grow older, their involvement in the process, and their editorial influence will continue to develop.

The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

Whilst I strive for honesty in Letterbox, I do shy away from discussing some of the trauma-related behaviours that our children experience.  I haven’t mentioned therapeutic parenting or PACE as I don’t want to cause distress or hint at blame.

I am not even sure whether or not to mention some of the struggles they have had that are perhaps neurotypical – such as Bubbles’ experience of being bullied in school. So forgive me for a slight whitewash to my letterbox, but I feel conflicted about sharing the dark sides of our lives with their birth parents when they receive so little.

Maybe the content isn’t perfect, but I continue to write, to share stories and snapshots into the lives of these children with their birth parents. Because I believe that for now, it is the right thing to do.

 

 

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Is It Because They’re Adopted?

I only popped out for milk….

Andy had arrived home to the usual fanfare of whoops from my kids, and in the post-daddy-comes-home invisibility of  ‘Mummy?  Who she?‘ I’d chosen to bank their inattention and pop to the shop for milk.

An Unexpected Reaction

The minute she’d heard me go, my 3YO little girl started crying, her hands dragging forlornly down the window pane, begging me silently to come back, whilst I obliviously skipped to the car and shop, unaware of the reaction I’d unwittingly created.  It was only when I returned a few minutes later with milk and wine (it just lept into my basket) that I noticed her distraught features, all blotchy and puckered.  I dashed in to comfort her.

Yet my ‘I’m home now, sweetie’ repetition, my kissing away her tears and the evidence before her eyes were krill to the whale of her fear.  I hugged her and consoled her and told her that ‘I will always come back’ but my popping to the shops had triggered a secret fear inside her that no amount of logic would redress.  Where did it come from?

The Scapegoat

Later that evening, as Andy and I talk about her tears, we ponder what might’ve caused it. And we start a round-robin of blame that heavily features the birth parents, her foster family and us, as reserves.  And we hit straight into the conundrum of what causes a child to behave a certain way.

  • Is it because she is adopted?
  • Is it because of something that happened (that we do or don’t know about) in her backstory?
  • Is it because she’s a toddler?
  • Is it because she’s tired? Or we’re tired?  Or because she missed Peppa Pig earlier?
  • Is it because the sun rose in the east, or because there’s a rainbow in the sky, or she’s Sagittarius with Pisces ascending, or because of Brexit/ Trump/ Bake Off moving to Channel 4?

Too Convenient By Far

I have found myself sorely (and arrogantly) tempted to presume that everything magical and amazing my children do is because of something I have done as their adoptive mum (with a nod to Andy’s involvement).  And then I surreptitiously blame all their challenging behaviour (i.e. anything that attracts the glares of nosy strangers in public) on the black hole of ‘their past,’ whilst conveniently forgetting the not-inconsiderable impact of their fabulous foster family (who did all the hard work, if the truth be told).

  • She bit her brother?  No idea where she gets that from.  Not my fault your honour.
  • She learnt how to put her sock on the right way around?  All me.
  • She drew lipstick onto her face with a permanent marker?  Where’s she seen that?  I never even wear lippy.
  • She gave me a hug, a cuddly toy and a book when I was shivering with fever?  Of course she learnt that Florence Nightingale routine from me (those who know me well are choking on that line).

It’s Not Because They’re Adopted

After a few rather dodgy scapegoating sessions, my husband and I choose to ban the phrase ‘because they’re adopted’ from our vocabulary (and I humbly recognise that this might not be true for you).

We did it to take full responsibility, to accept that we have the most direct impact on their behaviour now, to make up step up to the plate and take it all as a reflection of our abilities as parents.  Yes there may be some ripple effects from their lives before us, but it’s up to us now to give them new skills, new reactions, new behaviours for their new family.

  • If he bites her, it’s because I haven’t taught him not to.
  • If she draws on her face in permanent marker, it’s because I left a marker in reach and ignored her when she begged me to play makeup, but let me take a photo of that pen moustache for Twitter before I suggest she tries scrubbing it off.
  • If she cries when I pop out for milk, it’s because I slipped away thinking it would go unnoticed, instead of talking her through where I was going and when I would be back and perhaps even giving her something of mine to look after for me.

They are my children, my responsibility, and everything they do and say is a reflection of my influence on them.  And maybe that is easy for me to say, because I have never had to deal with behaviour that gets my kids excluded from nursery or school, or suffered child-on-parent violence or things that aren’t easy to live or cope with.

But for me, for our family, that’s the way it has to be.

Have you ever been tempted to use the phrase “because they are adopted”?  Share your stories below…

 

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Birth Mum, Adoptive Mum, Real Mum, Confused Mum!

Andy rounds on me with a sour face that says I’ve done something wrong.

‘What have you been telling Bubbles?’

Ummm.  My brain scans through the last 48 hours and tries to pin down exactly which of my major or minor mummy misdemeanours he might be referring to.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask innocently, knowing that his accusation is enough to send a flush of guilt to my cheeks.

‘Bubbles seems to think that you are not her real mum’ he continues and the surprise on my face is genuine.

‘Where’d she get that from?’  I send my brain on a rescue mission, searching for memories where those two words appear together.

Search string “real mum”… Results – zero

I come up blank.  ‘I don’t think I’ve mentioned it’ I say, with the closest approximation I can make to certainty.  My PhD-brain has run off with the milkman and I’ve lost  about 75 IQ points (probably down the back of the sofa) and there are parts of the last few days that are shrouded in mystery.  Did I say it?  It’s a good job I am not in court as any half-decent court-appointed defence lawyer would blow my statement into pieces.

Her Other Mum

We’ve always stuck to simple terms.  Your birth mum and dad, and mummy and daddy (aka us). We started off trying to use birth mother and birth father, but the unwieldiness of those phrases soon had them morphing into birth mum and dad.

Why is she now calling her birth mum her real mum? I wonder where she heard it?   Andy is uncharacteristically livid.  I wonder why?

Who’s Your Real Mum?

I hear him explaining sternly but patiently to Bubbles:

‘Your real mum is the mummy who looks after you, who takes you to school, who makes you breakfast and combs your hair.  Your real mum is the mummy who cooks your meals and reads you story and washes your clothes.’

Oh,  I see.

I feel a warm cuddly sensation – he is protecting me.  Protecting my right to be Bubbles’ real mum.  How sweet.

Her Real Mum Is Me

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