Can I Let You Go?: Part 3 of 3: A heartbreaking true story of love, loss and moving on

‘Isn’t that a waste?’ Paula asked a while later, seeing three bottles of milk lined up. ‘We haven’t got a baby.’

‘I know we haven’t got a baby,’ I said, throwing her a look. ‘But doing a task is the best way to learn and remember it. Do you remember all the time you spent practising tying bows so that you could do up your shoelaces?’

‘Yes, and it was only last week!’ Lucy joked as she came in.

Paula laughed good-humouredly.

‘Laces are difficult,’ Faye said, completely missing the joke. ‘Don’t worry, Paula, I can’t do them.’

‘She can really,’ Lucy said. ‘I was joking.’ But even then Faye didn’t understand and there was an uncomfortable silence. ‘Show us how you make up a bottle then,’ Lucy said, making amends.

Faye smiled proudly as Lucy and Paula came closer to watch. I stood by, ready to help and prompt as necessary, and ten minutes later, with a lot of help, Faye had made up another bottle of milk. We all applauded.

‘Well done,’ I said.

Although there was still a lot to cover in respect of feeds and bottles – warming the milk, testing it to make sure it was at the right temperature, storing the milk in the fridge and so on, all of which would take Faye time to learn – for now I was pleased with the progress we’d made that morning.

After lunch Lucy and Paula said they were going into town shopping and asked Faye if she would like to go with them, but she smiled shyly and said, ‘No, thank you. I have to learn to look after my baby.’

‘You can go with them,’ I encouraged. ‘You’ve done enough learning for one day and I’ll be busy for a couple of hours. The change will do you good.’ But she couldn’t be persuaded and preferred to stay at home with me.

She occupied herself while I was busy, looking at some books and then doing a simple jigsaw puzzle, but when I told her I was going to bake a cake to take with us to my mother’s tomorrow she wanted to help. Faye liked nothing more than to be at home with an adult and involved in domesticity. It was what she was used to and felt comfortable with, which of course augured well for parenting. She certainly wouldn’t be yearning to go out partying.

She helped me make the cake and then once it was cool she filled it with jam and butter icing. When everyone came home they all remarked on the delicious smell of home baking and Faye proudly told them, many times, that she’d helped me bake a cake. She often repeated herself; whether this was because she’d forgotten she’d told us or thought we’d forgotten, or because her grandparents repeated things, I didn’t know. But it was a habit of Faye’s to tell us things more than once, and we always listened as though we were hearing it for the first time and just accepted it as part of her character.

That evening we all ate together and then Adrian, Paula and Lucy went out, which left Faye alone with me again. She didn’t seem to tire of my company, as I’m sure many young people would, and was happy to just be around me. Sometimes I felt as though I had a shadow, for she was never far from my side if it was just the two of us. The television programmes Faye watched during the week didn’t show at weekends, but she wanted to watch a game show she usually watched with her grandparents. After that she had her bath and then I suggested a few games of dominoes, which I knew she enjoyed. As she stood to put away the domino box she rubbed her tummy. ‘I’ve got those pains you told me about,’ she said. ‘Am I having a labour?’

‘No, I don’t think so, not yet. They are more likely to be Braxton Hicks. Do you remember, I explained about Braxton Hicks contractions?’

She gave a small nod but I was pretty sure she didn’t remember, so I explained again. ‘Braxton Hicks are small contractions that make the wall of your tummy feel hard for a few seconds. They are normal and you will feel them more often towards the end of pregnancy. It’s the body’s way of getting ready to go into labour and give birth. Has it stopped now?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sure that’s what it is. But that reminds me, let’s go and pack your hospital bag while we think of it.’

‘Why? Am I leaving now?’ she asked.

‘No, not yet. Your bag is for when you go into hospital to have your baby, which probably won’t be for another six weeks. But the notes the hospital gave you say you should have it ready now.’

She came with me upstairs and I placed the weekend bag I’d bought for her on her bed. When she’d first arrived she’d come with a large suitcase and a small shoulder bag, neither of which was suitable for a short hospital stay.

‘Is that mine?’ she asked, referring to the weekend bag.

‘Yes. Do you like it?’

She nodded. ‘I’ve had lots of new things since I’ve been with you.’ She threw her arms around me and gave me a big hug. Bless her.

Using the list of items that had been included in the maternity folder, we packed what she and the baby would need for a couple of days. I didn’t know what arrangements would be made after the birth for the rest of Faye’s belongings, but I anticipated visiting her often, so I could take whatever else she might need.

‘It’s like going on holiday,’ she said. ‘That’s what Grandpa will say.’

‘Yes.’ I smiled. Although my recollection of giving birth was that it was no holiday!

Going to my mother’s house where just she greeted us at the door was becoming a little easier now. As usual she was very welcoming and pleased to see us when we went on Sunday. She thanked us for the cake and Paula placed it in the kitchen. As I’d anticipated, within a couple of minutes of our arrival Faye was telling her: ‘I’m going to keep my baby and I’m learning how to look after it.’

‘That’s lovely,’ Mum said. ‘You can tell me what you’ve learnt so far while you help me make everyone a cup of tea.’

I saw Lucy and Paula exchange a pointed look and I wondered if they resented the amount of Mum’s time Faye took up when we visited. She rarely left Mum’s side, as she did with me at home. But I’d already explained to Lucy and Paula that this was because Faye had spent her whole life with people of Nana’s generation and felt more comfortable with them, rather than people her own age. However, a few minutes later, when I caught them whispering while Faye was in the kitchen helping Mum, I asked them if there was a problem.

‘Not with us,’ Lucy said a little caustically.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I asked.

‘Faye keeps telling Nana she’s keeping the baby. But it’s not definite yet. She’s got to prove to the social worker she can do it, and from what I’ve seen she’s got a long way to go yet.’

‘Nana knows that,’ I said. ‘So does Faye.’

‘Does she?’ Lucy asked. ‘When Faye talks to us about it, it seems definite: my baby this and my baby that. She’s even thought of a name.’

‘Has she?’ I asked. ‘She hasn’t told me.’

‘Snuggles!’ Lucy said, and both girls laughed.

‘Don’t be unkind,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

‘Sorry,’ they said, and looked suitably chastised. They weren’t unkind, far from it. They shared their home, love and life unreservedly with all the children and young people we fostered. Humour is often a way of coping, but if they had concerns I needed to explore them.

‘I’ll speak to Faye later,’ I said, ‘and make sure she understands what will happen. Thanks for telling me.’

And the rest of the day continued pleasantly.

That evening, once home, I explained to Faye again what would happen after her baby was born: that after a day or so in hospital she would go to the mother-and-baby unit, where she would be taught to look after her baby and also be observed. Then a decision would be made on what was best for her and the baby.

‘I know,’ Faye said. ‘They will be watching me to see if I do it right.’

‘Yes. That’s about it.’

‘And I will do it right,’ she said. ‘You’re teaching me.’

‘I’m doing my best, and I know you will do yours.’

Chapter Seventeen

An ‘Off Day’ (#u6538a686-0d6c-5d17-8ac9-af0c43926e09)

To begin with I thought Faye might be worried or preoccupied by the review on Monday afternoon, for that morning she was confused and very forgetful. Her movements were lethargic and slower than usual and she forgot the most basic things, like brushing her hair, cleaning her teeth and which cupboard the cereal was in. She always poured her own cereal for breakfast and the box was in the cupboard where it had always been. She even forgot where Snuggles was, and I found him on her bed where he normally sat when he wasn’t with her.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked her eventually.