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

She smiled and nodded.

‘Is anything wrong?’

‘I’m just having an off day. That’s what Gran calls it. I’m not ill.’

‘OK. And you’re not worrying about anything?’

‘No.’

I’d noticed before that sometimes, for no obvious reason, Faye had days when she was disorientated and disengaged from what was going on around her. I’d put it down to living in a new house with people she wasn’t completely familiar with, but now it seemed it had been happening before she’d come to live with me. Around mid-morning Faye asked if we could make up some more bottles of baby milk and I agreed. Everyone else was out and her review wasn’t until two o’clock. I should have realized that if Faye was having an ‘off day’ she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on what, for her, was a complicated task. It soon became clear that not only had Faye forgotten everything we’d covered on Saturday, but she also seemed to be struggling with basic common sense.

I arranged everything she would need, including the instruction sheets, on the work surface and then told her to run the hot water and add a squirt of washing-up liquid to wash the bottles. She did this and then just stood there, hands immersed in the soapy water, looking at the bottles on the drainer.

‘Put the first bottle into the water,’ I prompted. ‘Use the bottle brush to clean it well and then rinse it.’

Faye hesitated again as though she was processing what I’d said before she took the first bottle and began to clean it slowly. I prompted her to rinse it and then move on to the next. It took her fifteen minutes to wash all four bottles. While she was working I busied myself in the kitchen, though still keeping an eye on her. Having washed and rinsed the bottles, she had no idea what to do next, and even with me reading the instructions from the sheet she’d completely forgotten that we had to use the sterilizer and why. I explained again, repeating everything I’d told her before, and finally helped her to sterilize the bottles, as I didn’t want her to become disheartened. Now she was ready to do the bit she liked best – making up the feeds. But when she added the first scoop of milk powder to the bottle it caught on the rim and half of it flicked onto the work surface and floor. She was going to scoop it up and use it!

‘Faye, you can’t do that,’ I said, concerned. ‘It’ll have germs in it. If that happens, clean up what you’ve spilt, tip the contents of the bottle away and start again.’

‘But some of it went in the bottle.’

‘Yes, but you don’t know how much. The milk needs to be made up to the correct strength. And you never use what you’ve spilt.’

She looked deep in thought for a moment and then stepped away from the kitchen cabinet. ‘I think it’s better if I don’t do any more today,’ she said. ‘When I have an off day Gran tells me to take it easy, so I sit with Snuggles.’

‘OK, love,’ I said. ‘No worries. We’ll do it again another day.’

All very well, but what would happen if Faye had an ‘off day’ when she had the baby? It would still need feeding, changing and looking after. I would have to explain this to her when she was more receptive.

Faye wasn’t upset or fazed by having an ‘off day’ and sat happily on the sofa in the living room with Snuggles on her lap, taking it easy for the rest of the morning, as her gran had advised, which essentially meant doing nothing but staring into space. She told Snuggles she was having an off day, and then said it again while we were eating lunch, although having an off day thankfully didn’t seem to affect Faye’s appetite. She reminded Snuggles again that she was having an off day as he sat on her lap in the car and I drove to her grandparents’ flat for the review. I guessed it was a term Wilma used and it had stuck.

Becky answered the door, saving Stan and Wilma the trouble, and Faye told her straight away she was having an off day.

‘Are you, love?’ Becky said, apparently unaware of what this meant.

Once in the living room Faye told her grandparents, even before she’d kissed them, that she was having one of her off days.

‘Never mind,’ Wilma said. ‘Sit yourself down and take it easy.’ Which Faye did, sitting heavily on the sofa beside her.

Wilma, Stan and I all said a polite hello and I sat on the chair Becky had drawn up for me so that we formed a small circle. Faye tucked Snuggles in between her and Wilma and folded her hands in her lap in a mirror image of her gran. I thought Stan and Wilma both looked tired and drawn, which was hardly surprising, considering how worried they must be by Faye’s change of mind. The atmosphere was polite but strained, as it had been the last time I’d met them.

‘Well, we all know each other,’ Becky began, sitting with a notepad and pen on her lap. ‘So there’s no need for us to introduce ourselves.’ She smiled convivially. ‘It’ll only be a short, informal meeting. I need to run through what’s happening as the short-term plans for Faye have changed. I’ll make a few notes as we go along. Faye, if you have any questions or there is anything you don’t understand then please stop me.’

‘You always say that to me,’ Faye said, and I smiled.

‘As we are aware,’ Becky said, ‘Faye has made it known that she would like to try to look after her baby and the social services have found her a place at –’ She named the specialist mother-and-baby unit. ‘We feel this is appropriate, and Faye can stay there for up to six months. I’m aware of the travelling issues for you,’ she said, addressing Wilma and Stan. ‘I’m looking into what transport help we can offer so you can visit Faye at the home.’

Wilma gave a stiff nod.

‘While Faye is staying at the mother-and-baby home,’ Becky said, ‘she will be well supported and taught parenting techniques as well as being observed.’

‘Cathy is teaching me now,’ Faye put in.

‘Yes, I know, that’s good,’ Becky said. ‘And the home will build on that learning. During her time at the home Faye will also be monitored, leading to an assessment at the end, which will give us a clearer picture of what the next step should be. I shall also be visiting her.’

As Becky continued to talk I glanced at Wilma and Stan. Both were concentrating on Becky, their expressions neutral. Like me, they already knew how the care plan had changed, but this review was procedural and used to clarify any points and address questions that Faye or her grandparents might have. It was a lot less formal than the reviews I attended for the children I fostered, which were usually held in my house. Children in care have regular reviews, which the child’s parent(s), social worker, teacher, foster carer, the foster carer’s support social worker and any other adults closely connected with the child all attend. The meeting is chaired and minuted by an independent reviewing officer and usually lasts an hour.

‘So, that’s the plan at present,’ Becky said, rounding off. ‘Does anyone have any questions?’

‘Only what we’ve already raised,’ Stan said. ‘What’s going to happen at the end of the six months?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ Becky said. ‘We’ll have to wait for the outcome of the assessment.’

‘No. I mean, what if Faye’s allowed to keep –’ He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘the baby’, but used the northern term ‘bairn’ instead.

‘We’re looking into various options that could offer the support Faye would need – supported lodgings or a semi-independence unit,’ Becky said. ‘Although I’m afraid they are all out of the immediate area.’

‘But I’m right in saying that none of them are long term?’ Stan said, so I assumed this issue had been discussed before.

‘That’s right,’ Becky said with a small nod. ‘The maximum stay is two years.’ I heard Wilma sigh. ‘But that’s a long time ahead,’ Becky continued, ‘and it might be felt by then that Faye has the necessary skills to live independently.’

Another small sigh escaped Wilma’s lips, but neither she nor Stan commented further.

‘Cathy,’ Becky said, turning to me. ‘I know you see Wilma and Stan regularly when you bring Faye and collect her, but perhaps you’d like to give us an update and say a few words on how Faye is doing with you now.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Foster carers are usually asked to speak at a child’s or young person’s review, so this wasn’t unexpected. ‘Faye’s antenatal checks are now every two weeks until she is full term,’ I began. ‘At these check-ups Faye is weighed and measured by the midwife and her blood pressure and urine are checked. She also listens to the baby’s heartbeat. Both Faye and the baby are doing well. There are no medical concerns. I’ve noticed Faye is becoming more tired, especially in the evening, but that’s to be expected at this stage in the pregnancy. Her last blood test showed that her iron levels were normal and they will be checked again at her next appointment. Faye seems to be coping well with all the changes and is generally very happy.’

‘She’s always happy,’ Stan said.

‘Because she doesn’t see the problems as we do,’ Wilma added.

Becky nodded and I continued. ‘Faye gets on well with my family, and joins us on days out. She decided she didn’t want to continue going to the day centre, and because she can’t go to the stables I’ve been taking her to see some horses in a field, which she enjoys.’ Stan and Wilma both nodded. ‘Faye has established a good morning routine, which I believe is similar to the one she has here. She also has an evening routine, which includes a bath and watching her favourite television programmes. I’ve started teaching Faye the basics of parenting: how to hold a baby, lay it in the crib, feed it and so on.’

‘That reminds me,’ Becky said. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t had any luck finding one of those electronic baby dolls you asked for. I’m still searching.’

Wilma and Stan looked puzzled and Becky explained what an electronic baby-simulator doll was.

‘I’m using an ordinary doll to practise on,’ I said to Wilma and Stan. They nodded, although Wilma looked sceptical.

‘And Faye’s managing to learn the skills you’re teaching her?’ Becky asked.

Faye was looking at me. ‘Yes, slowly, but we’ve only just started. Faye did well on Saturday when we began to practise making up bottles of milk. We didn’t do much this morning, though.’

‘Because I’m having an off day,’ Faye told her gran again.

‘I see,’ Becky said, making a note. ‘What does having an off day mean exactly?’

‘She forgets everything she’s supposed to do,’ Wilma said, not unkindly. ‘It was investigated when she was a child. Epilepsy was suggested but nothing was found.’