Emma

In January and February I started childminding – straight in at the deep end – for the Social services. My first (and only!) baby was a little girl called Emma. Her mother lived alone just along the road from us – and had such severe postnatal depression that she had hallucinations and voices talking to her. I used to go and collect Emma and wonder if I would find them both still alive. Emma was gorgeous – eighteen months old – and soon got used to being with us. One evening a social worker came to the door, along with Emma and her mother – saying that Emma’s mother had called her saying that she couldn’t cope at home – and would I take Emma, as her mother was admitting herself into the psychiatric unit. I looked after Emma for about a week before her Grandmother came and picked her up. Grandmother arrived with Mothers Best Friend (obv not such a good friend that she would look after Emma) and although I asked them both in so that Emma could get used to her Grandmother, best friend insisted that I hand Emma over on the doorstep – she was crying hysterically and clinging to me – it was then that I decided that I wasn’t cut out for fostering! I never saw her again – think Mother went back to live with Grandmother.

Emma

In January and February I started childminding – straight in at the deep end – for the Social services. My first (and only!) baby was a little girl called Emma. Her mother lived alone just along the road from us – and had such severe postnatal depression that she had hallucinations and voices talking to her. I used to go and collect Emma and wonder if I would find them both still alive. Emma was gorgeous – eighteen months old – and soon got used to being with us. One evening a social worker came to the door, along with Emma and her mother – saying that Emma’s mother had called her saying that she couldn’t cope at home – and would I take Emma, as her mother was admitting herself into the psychiatric unit. I looked after Emma for about a week before her Grandmother came and picked her up. Grandmother arrived with Mothers Best Friend (obv not such a good friend that she would look after Emma) and although I asked them both in so that Emma could get used to her Grandmother, best friend insisted that I hand Emma over on the doorstep – she was crying hysterically and clinging to me – it was then that I decided that I wasn’t cut out for fostering! I never saw her again – think Mother went back to live with Grandmother.