All good stories have a twist to it, which I suppose means
that mine at least should make it into the realms of a good story. I hope this
one doesn’t make you cry, but if it does Im sorry, you can join in with me.
Last Friday we had a meeting. One that we were promised
wouldn’t happen by many different people and one that came completely from
nowhere. It had already been re arranged from the previous week so this added
to the stress. This meeting was with a social worker to discuss the impact of
my disability on my ability to be a parent.
Unfortunately this meeting is just the start of the
assessment process. We now have 3 more meetings, separately to discuss in
detail this impact of my disability on my ability to be a parent. It is a full
social services assessment and one that is hopefully going to conclude that the
only impact that it will have will be a positive one. But this is social
services, so who knows.
I have unfortunately been open and honest about my
disability to my midwife and doctors and nurses throughout this pregnancy. I
say unfortunately, but there are some perks, which I will discuss later on. In
the main though the disclosure of my impairment has been the most disabling
part of being pregnant for me. Far more than the slowly decreasing mobility and
the morning sickness and the other body changes, the impact that saying that I’m
disabled has had is immense.
I am not treated the same as any other parent to be, and
there seems to be an automatic assumption of deficit in my case. Ironically its
not one that social services seem to be able to meet per sea (budget cuts
seemed to be mentioned in every other sentence through this meeting) but its
certainly there.
The assessment will be a bit of a crystal ball exercise. I
don’t know how Im going to be a parent, or what might happen. I have never done
this before. But im not allowed to say that. I have to pretend that I am fully
prepared and know exactly what I am doing and not going to get anything wrong.
Life within social services world is a tad idealistic and it is documented that
they place a higher expectation on parents under their scrutiny.
I write all this about me, but its not that I have forgotten
I have a supportive and loving husband, they have. I have to have 2 more
meetings on my own and he has one of his own too. They are simply not taking
into account that I need his support in order to be able to properly engage
with this process. It is not as if I am reliant on him or he somehow controls
me. It is well documented that I can not cope with professionals too well and I
have two stock responses to these things, both of which are not effective and I
can’t see ending well. I just need someone else there to keep me calm and
sounding half reasonable. But theres been no consideration of this, which is
ironic considering the nature of the assessment, and the alleged outcome of me
being fully supported.
As I hope I don’t need to spell out, the impact of this grey
cloud above our heads has been enourmous. Physically speaking I am putting this
horrible cold down to the stress of the assessment. My mental health is at the
worst its been for a long while, but Im not telling anyone that, again it would
raise concerns and issues. On Friday night I couldn’t sleep so went down stairs
and was drawn to the massive pile of baby stuff in the corner.
Seeing all the neatly piled up clothes that we had washed
the weekend before ready for when Baby comes along in a few weeks time shouldn’t
have gotten me so upset that they were flung across the room, but they did. It shouldn’t
have made me pick one of them up and hug it as if I had somehow lost this baby
before we have even started, but it did. I can’t help these emotional
responses. Im 33 weeks pregnant, im irrational and moody, and that’s nothing to
do with my mental health. I never cry but I have been a lot more emotional in
this pregnancy.
They admitted they should have done this assessment by 24
weeks, but again, budget cuts. There is just no recognition of what they are
doing to me, to us. These last few precious weeks are meant to be building up
to baby being born and we were just started to get excited about the reality of
parenthood. But these things have been robbed from us. It is not that there
should be any real threat of baby being taken from us or anything extreme, but it’s the parnoia that you just
cant help feeling thanks to the stories in the media and the official way this
is all happening.
We just want to be parents. Is that so much to ask?
