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Not as good at this as we expected

We went into Adoption with many preconceived notions, not least of which was that we would find the whole parent thing pretty straight forward and well...kinda easy. After all we have decades of being favourite uncles having been involved in the lives of our nieces and nephews and more importantly lots of experience of looking after children - often taking them away for weekends or even full holidays - not to mention some hands-on parenting experience for  me after moving in with an uncle and young cousins to help out when he left my aunt and also being with a close friend on a daily basis raising her two youngest for a number of years. 

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Touch

It seems counterintuitive to use words to describe touch, something so personal and often fleeting. But I am going to have a go. It is so central to the communication between Digger and me.

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Equally Best

A short while ago I was listening to talk radio and the discussion was about an estranged birth father's fight to overrule an adoption order as he had not been contacted and made aware of the adoption. I was amazed at just how many people phoned in saying variations of 'blood is blood, they are his children of course he should get them back'.

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The First Meeting

She was so young. She sat opposite us with wide eyes that sometimes stared at us, sometimes straight through us, sometimes looked down at the floor as though abashed, but something told me this might have been a ruse. We had been told there was a possibility that, as young as she seemed, she was quite capable of manipulating our emotions, but as I took more of her in, the scraped back hair, the rosy cheeks, the demeanour of a child, I could not bring myself to believe that.

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My Adoption Astonishments one year on...

I was never a really maternal type. I relished my freedom and independence, waiting until my 40th birthday to even think about the idea of putting down any permanent roots. My mother always likes to tell me that I absolutely loved being a child and was in no rush to grow up.

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Chitter Chatter

So, she runs about in a frenzy of joy when I get home from work, careering into the sofa and bouncing off it into the love seat and back again, like a deranged pinball hitting the buffers. Which is nice.

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