We had been fostering for five years. Recently, we had changed from being teenage carers to cover birth to sixteen. At the time, we were looking after three little girls under five-years-old. It was a lovely sunny morning. We headed to a park for a picnic lunch. The girls played well together and always enjoyed outdoor fun. Myself and the girls walked up a hill to look down on the village to see if we could see our house. I could see my husband packing up our picnic and answering his phone. He then waved for us to come back to the car. I returned the call which had come from social work. Wow! Could we take a newborn baby girl? Well, of course was my answer, always room for one more.
The hospital staff had named her Hope. She arrived at our home in the arms of a very young social worker, wrapped in a very bubbly blue blanket. She hadn't been bathed because a quick removal from hospital was required. Thankfully, milk had been supplied, but four little bottles wouldn't last the night so time to call the for backup. My sister-in-law went to the shops to buy what I needed and a friend lent me equipment. Foster carers call on each other at these times. Of course baby Hope was sound asleep, oblivious to what was going on.
Hope settled in very well. She liked to fall asleep listening to Shania Twain with the volume turned down low.
We had the pleasure of caring for her for nine months. The plan was always for adoption. The day she left was like a bereavement. We were so sad, but it wasn't long before a set of twins came through our door. Hope was the start of a long line of newborns that went on to be adopted. She really did change our lives.