When my adopted children first said 'Mummy' I felt I'd burst with joy

When Gina, 54*, a graphic designer and Rich*, 55, a tech entrepreneur from London, adopted two siblings, aged five and three, they knew becoming instant parents to troubled children wouldn’t be easy, but the mutual love that grew has made it all worthwhile. Here they share their emotional journey…

The first time I heard our adoptive children call us ‘Mummy and Daddy’ I thought my heart would burst with joy. Both in our 40s, my husband Rich* and I had had a long and difficult road to parenthood.

After the disappointment of not conceiving naturally and gruelling fertility treatments, then the seemingly endless process of being approved for adoption and matched with children in need of parents, we’d arrived, hearts in our mouths, at the foster mum’s house to pick them up. Would they like us? As soon as I pressed the doorbell and heard those tiny voices shrieking, "It’s Mummy and Daddy!" I could hardly contain my emotions.

Siblings born into a life of neglect, Sam* and Shona*, aged five and three, had never had a father before, and the only consistent ‘mummy’ was the foster mum who’d cared for them for two years of their young lives.

Due to bad experiences with their birth mother, the children had issues around early-life neglect and attachment which made it hard to build a bond of trust. We knew this already and really wanted to tell these vulnerable but excitable little people that they were now safe – with us. As we bundled them along with their bikes, toys and suitcases into our car, we knew our lives would never be the same.

Searching for a family

Being of Asian descent, the process had been particularly stressful. Repeatedly we were refused adoption on the basis of our racial mix, religion and cultural background, as it was hard to find a match. It was only once we considered adopting children, rather than babies, that we could overcome this.

Apparently social workers relax their strict rules when it’s kids who’ve been in foster care for a while, especially siblings who are harder to place. When they offered us Sam and Shona, mixed race siblings, it made no odds that their racial background didn’t exactly match ours – we just wanted to be parents.

Of course, after we got the children home, we didn’t instantly slide into being a happy family. While we had met them for an hour here and there during the gradual adoption process – taking them to the park or the zoo, or reading bedtime stories together – getting them to understand that our house was now their home, and this wasn’t just another little outing, was a struggle.

Shona, the younger sibling, then only three, had formed a real bond with her foster mum, and when it hit home that she wasn’t going to see her again it was traumatic. Being so tiny, it was hard for us to explain. Letting them call her on the phone was, with hindsight, a mistake, as it brought back those feelings and for a while Shona regressed. We had to work hard to rebuild that nascent bond again.

Building trust

Emotions were high all round. They’d shout, scream and cry a lot of the time, and we’d just have to deal with it, letting them be emotional and gradually building up their trust by spending lots of time together, playing and reading stories, so they would learn to rely on us as a permanent fixture in their lives.

At different times in those first few months both shouted, "You’re not my mummy!" lashing out and refusing to cooperate, but we didn’t get angry or upset, trying to understand where those feelings were coming from, while holding and reassuring them.

Most nights before bed we read The Mommy Book by Todd Parr, about the things that mothers typically do, like ‘mummies give you hugs’ and ‘mummies give you kisses’ and we’d do each action with them. Even after a rough day, the children would pick it themselves as their bedtime story.

It was through reading stories, spending time with them, and, with the help of CAMHS (Children and Adolescent Mental Health Services), through play therapy that they learnt to feel safe in the knowledge that we weren’t going to abandon them. Through all the tears and tantrums there were still moments of pure joy, like the time at the end of a particularly choppy day when Sam brought me a card with a special ‘I love you Mummy’ message he’d written himself. My tears flowed freely that day.

A strong partnership

My husband got an easier ride than me. Every day the children would rush down for breakfast and sit on his lap to get cuddles and hugs. Never having had a father in their lives, the children really wanted a daddy. I was just Mum, and often the target of their frustration and outbursts. It was tough and emotionally challenging at times, but I understood. They’d been through a lot.

We made sure to work as a team, Rich and I, supporting each other through every bump in the road. I was lucky to be able to take a year off work as we settled the children into our lives, and Rich took three months off. During this intense period, we made sure to give each other a full day off every week, just so we could get away for some time to ourselves. Self-care was vital during that time.

One thing that really helped the children settle into their new life was the input of our extended family. Both sets of grandparents were instantly adored and my mum would come and stay so we could have a night out, spending hours doing jigsaw puzzles with them. They quickly built relationships with their cousins, who were of similar ages.

Challenges to overcome

But outside of the home there have been challenges that we’re still facing today. Holidays are a huge hurdle, as the children find leaving the safety of home unsettling, so we keep mealtimes and other routines exactly the same, wherever we are. The children have always found the structures of the school day tough, and I’ve often had to challenge teachers over how they’ve dealt with them – a common problem with adopted children apparently.

The cortisol levels of children who’ve experienced trauma are really high, leaving them on the edge emotionally, so it doesn’t take much for our children to tip over into what teachers see as ‘naughty behaviour’ – shouting, restlessness and running around. This gets them into trouble, which isn’t helpful as it’s something they can’t control. It’s the noise and chaos of school and playtime in particular that cause emotional dysregulation, meaning they get stressed and find it hard to calm down.

Emotionally rewarding

As they’ve got older, we haven’t had a great deal of support from social services, who were very present in the first few months of the adoption. Peer support from fellow adoptive parents has been a lifeline.

But despite the many challenges, adopting siblings has been the happiest decision we ever made. I remember a social worker suggesting we adopt one child and see how it went then maybe adopt another, but keeping the siblings together and doing it all in one go was the right decision. For one thing, they’re very close – there’s nothing I love more than seeing them cooking together, or spontaneously hugging. But also, this way we only put ourselves through the stress of the adoptive process once.

Now aged 13 and 15, to this day our children are still having struggles caused by the significant damage from their background. But it’s all worth it as they have brought us so much happiness and we’ve given them a stable home in which they’re able to thrive. It’s a tragedy that older children are often overlooked for adoption, when they can bring so much joy into your life.

*Names have been changed to protect identities.