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Sunday 30 March 2014

Foster care - My 'perfect' childhood story

If I could use three words to describe my childhood they would be, perfect, scary and lonely...in that order exactly.

I am one of 13 children, third born, all by my mother. I have three full siblings; a younger brother aged 22 and twin sisters, aged 21. We are of Caribbean heritage. Our mother is Jamaican, and our father is from Barbados. Both our parents families immigrated to London when they were children. My mother (as my gran describes her) was a lot of trouble, as soon as she hit her teens she went off the rails, and my father is not to be spoken of, he too was bad news. The two together were a ticking time bomb. My mother became addicted to drugs and of course an unstable parent, and my father was a violent gang member who to this day is behind bars, for murder and armed robbery. 

You may be thinking 'wow, what must it be like to have parents like that?' Luckily, I don't know. I was put into care aged two. At the time my mother only had four children, myself, my younger full brother, and my older brother and sister who are half siblings. My mum was pregnant with the twins when I was put into foster care, who again are my full siblings. My older brother and sister were split from us and adopted by my gran, she could not afford to adopt all of us so my brother and I were put into care and thankfully kept together. 


August 1996


Part one:Perfect

I remember absolutely nothing about the early days of my foster care experience but with me only being 2 years old and my brother one, I can only assume there was a lot of crying, but like most toddlers and babies, we probably settled in after a couple of days. 

Our foster dad was a carpenter. He was amazing, the best father a child could ask for. A tall grey haired Englishman, laid back and would always surprise us with small gifts and displays of affection. My favorite memory of him was coming home after nursery, I had barely seen him for a couple days, he greeted us when we entered the house and we were always excited to see him because he was the best. He told us to come into the garden. Our foster mum was smiling so I already knew it was going to be something good. There were two objects covered with white sheets. He took the sheets off revealing two rocking horses that he had carved by hand for us. 

"Is that for me?" I remember asking, I think I was about four years old, me and my brother were smiling and so happy.
"Yes, go on, have a go" my foster dad replies. I remember getting on that horse and falling in love with it, not that I cared for rocking horses, but because I knew it had been made just for me. 'so that's why he's been in his workshop so much'. I look back at the man my foster dad was and I am so amazed that someone could love as deeply as he did. We may as well have been his own flesh and blood. 

Myself, my brother, foster dad and another foster child 1993


Our foster mum was a warm hearted loving woman. She would cook us a meal every night, help us with our homework, do everything she could to make sure we were well looked after. Her style of parenting was very British and traditional, from Sunday roasts to tucking us in at night, after a story and a kiss on the forehead. I never saw her complain or be angry, except one day when I called her 'mum'. Something had happened at school which caused me to wonder why I didn't call her it. Our foster family made us feel so much a part of their family that I never really questioned our relationship before, as far as I was concerned there 'were' my family. That evening when I got home during a conversation with her I said it. "No Kierra!" she said with a stern tone and raised voice. "You shouldn't call me that! You must never call me that again!" I remember my eyes flooding with tears, she too seemed shaken and it was obvious from her facial expression that she regretted raising her voice. "OK?" her tone was a lot softer and comforting "You have to call me by my first name." she drops to her knees and hugs me. "Oh darling I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to shout at you..." 

That night my foster dad, super-dad, came into my room to make sure I was OK. It had been a couple of years we had been living with the family. At the time I thought my foster mum was mean for shouting at me but looking back, it must be so hard to love a child as much as they loved us and have them in your life for so long, knowing that at any given minute you might receive a call to say you have to give them back. In fact there were a lot of moments where I can look back and see how attached my foster parents were getting, at one point I am sure I remember conversations of them wanting to adopt us. If they had I would have been so happy, but then again I may never have had the opportunity to build a relationship with my real family...

We lived outside of London in the country, the forest was our playground and everyone was so friendly. I think we may have very well been the only black children in the town! Whenever we were out in public everyone we saw would say hello to us, and people would stop my foster parents to tell them how cute me and my brother were. We never experienced any negativity or felt different from anyone else. My foster mum played a big part in making sure we felt right at home. The first few years she would struggle with my Afro hair, and I didn't help by making a fuss any time she tried to touch it. Black hair takes a lot of time and patience and one thing I am is impatient. At first she gave in and would just tie my hair in one or two buns after washing it. But it was never blow-dried or properly detangled. She then learned how to braid, twist and kanerow it, this woman would go out of her way for us, and she will forever be a role model to me. 

Playgroup December 1994

At home our garden was massive and well kept. Our foster parents had children themselves, who were all grown up or young adults. Their son was great, in fact all the family was. I remember he use to pick us up, throw us about (sometimes get shouted at for it) he would ALWAYS tickle us and l'd laugh but only as a reflex, I absolutely hated it when he tickled me. We would go on family trips, and spend time enjoying the outdoors together. We were not the only children they fostered, during our time with them many children came and went, some for a couple weeks others for months. A blonde haired little girl named Charlotte was the only child that stayed with us for quite some time. If I remember correctly we were adopted while she was still with us. But of all the children the family had us for the longest. I was nine years old when I was adopted and I remember the day like it was yesterday, but I will talk about that in my next childhood story post.


Family ferry trip September 1995

Being fostered defiantly molded me as a person. For one, I could NEVER discriminate or be racist to white people. They raised me. Britain is not just the country I was born in but it is my home, I consider myself British before anything else and will forever be loyal towards this country and it's people. The stability I had whilst in foster care was priceless, should I ever have a family of my own I hope that I can offer to my children what my foster family gave me. I love the simple things in life, they bring me more joy then any material thing could ever offer me and that comes from the way my foster family raised me to be. Family dinners, hand made rocking horses, and hugs before bed, I mean...there's nothing more satisfying. 

July 1996

I haven't had contact with my foster family in years but I plan to contact them again this year and document the experience. I hope that I become someone they are proud of, so they know they done an amazing job. Right now I am happily single, but should the day come where I find Mr right and get married, there's only one man I would ever consider walking me down the isle and that of course is my foster dad. There is so much more I could write about my foster care experience but I'm sure you don't have all day to read about it although I would happily share. So feel free to ask questions in the comments section if you want to know more. Part two of my childhood story will be titled 'scary'. I'll talk about being adopted, the culture shock of going from a white British family to a Jamaican household and much more.


Conclusion: 

The 'perfect' childhood and starting a business


As mentioned earlier one thing being fostered gave me was stability. If you can start a business and do it well then stability is something you will be able to offer your family. Although there are laws and company procedures to help protect employees against sudden redundancy, when working for someone else your job is never truly promised. At any given minute things can take a sudden turn for the worst. Don't get me wrong, being self employed has the same risks, even more so. The difference is you ARE in control. Sure there are legislation changes and an abundance of things that could very well have a direct impact on your company, and outside influences are something you cannot control. But if you want something bad then you'll find a way to overcome it and make it work. Being able to adapt is key. 


Eric Thomas is a renowned motivational speaker. I listen to his piece 'how bad do you want it' at least once a week. He speaks such truth and really makes you question yourself and your motives. 'most of you say you want to be successful, but you don't want it bad, you just kind of want it' I think this quote applies perfectly to the point I am trying to raise. When you choose to set up your own business the ball is in your court. Regardless of what is going on in the world around you, you have the ability to make sure you are a success. Don't just give up at the first hurdle, and don't be stubborn in your attitude towards self employment because guess what, it is going to be hard, at times you will feel demotivated, sleep will become a privilege, and you'll be lucky if you manage to squeeze in three meals a day. You don't have to be a business mogul to know that. 'Anything worth doing is hard work'. My foster father worked hard and my foster mum spent all her time being the perfect house wife, their dedication and consistency gave me and my brother an amazing early life. So when times get hard, don't dwell in self pity, think of all the people around you, if you can't stick at it for yourself then do it for them. And if you know you are the type to give up when times get too rough, then hey, maybe starting a business just isn't for you...


Anyway, until next time? x

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