So, been thinking for a while about sharing our story of adoption in the hope that it might help other families and because it is such an incredible journey, it feels somehow important to document. Maybe one day it will also be important for our daughter who shall remain anonymous as this is her story too and she may not want to share it. I’ll call her Angel as we called her our ‘angel child’ for the first six months of her time with us, knowing full well that as soon as she felt safe enough, a more fully rounded two-year old would emerge. She was also referred to as an ‘angel child’ by her birth mum and dad who had lost a previous pregnancy and so were very grateful when they fell pregnant with her. Angel is 9 and will be 10 in July. Right now we are what I call ‘in the cut’. We have just come out of our longest spell of equilibrium (about 3 months) and I felt a new baseline of her self-worth had been reached. It probably has but when the wound opens up, it’s incredible how deep ...
Angel calls me into her bedroom after school to ask for a plaster. ‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘Oh nothing’ she says. ‘Just scratched my arm.’ I inspect the two scratches. ‘You sure you didn’t do this to yourself?’ I say - casually, not accusatory, just curious. She immediately fesses up. She says she was very stressed on the school trip to the museum and it’s the only thing that stops her brain whirring when there is too much chatter and background noise. ‘What does the brain whirring feel like? And do you feel it anywhere else in your body?’ I ask. ‘Just in my head.’ ‘How did you do it?’ ‘With my finger nails.’ I get the plasters and as we put them on, I say, ‘It must be really hard having that feeling but we need to find some better ways for you to manage it.’ She nods. I suggest a rubber band she can wear on her wrist and snap, and she is keen to try it. I ask what else might help and she says her fidget rings, which she has been banned from wea...