Saturday, 29 October 2005

the thing with feathers

I finally spoke with the adoption agency on Thursday, to bring them up to date on the medication situation. The person I spoke to was the social worker who came out to visit us back in June; she was very pleasant, very accepting and thanked me for letting them know. She said that she has a supervision session with her boss on Friday and will discuss things with her and be in touch.

She asked me pertinent questions about how long the GP thought I should be on the tablets for (eighteen months to two years), how was I (much better than when I was off them), was it still for the same reason (reactive depression) and was generally very nice.

She didn't directly say that we would have to put things on hold.

This phone call has come about for two reasons:

Firstly, my friend Tessa came round at the weekend and we got chatting about it all. Tessa works in mental health and was really encouraging about the whole depression issue. She also encouraged me to speak to the agency, just to keep them in the loop.

Secondly, I spoke to the specialist fostering people last week. They were perfectly willing to come out and meet with us. However, the high-up person I spoke to (I had asked someone to call me to discuss the medication issue so that we didn't waste anyone's time) was very frank and said that her reservations in assessing us wouldn't necessarily be because of the medication; but more because we sounded like we were adopters rather than fosterers.

She was a very, very helpful woman and was really encouraging about pressing forwards with adoption rather than allowing that process to grind to a halt. She apparently used to be involved with adoption herself and gave me the contact details of her old agency, who, she said, should not immediately discount us because of mild anti-depressants prescribed for reactive depression. She gave us their contact details, so if we get stuck with the current agency, we can put out some feelers to them.

I don't know how I feel. A bit tired, I think. And deliberately un-excited.

Also, slightly damp from where the kitten is insisting on sucking my sweater.

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