Later that day I telephoned my mother to check it was convenient for us to visit at the weekend, and also to tell her of the change to Faye’s care plan – that she was going to try to keep her baby. I knew that Faye would tell Mum as soon as she saw her and I didn’t want it to come as a shock. Mum had got to know Faye quite well during our visits, so her reaction was what I thought it would be.
‘Really?’ she said, surprised. ‘She’s going to need an awful lot of help, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, but she is learning. And I know that if she can learn enough to parent, she’ll make a wonderful mother. Loving, kind and gentle, just like you.’
Mum laughed, embarrassed. ‘I do hope she can manage to do it. That would be a wonderful ending.’
‘Yes, it would, and I’m doing all I can to make it happen.’
Mum then mentioned that my brother had been helping her clear out the garage. Dad’s car had been sold, but the garage was still full of Dad’s work tools. He was a great handyman, could fix anything, and liked decorating and carpentry. If he wasn’t in the house or garden, he could be found in the garage, soldering metal, tinkering with the car or gluing and nailing wood. He’d even made a chest of drawers and a cabinet, such were his skills and craftsmanship. While I knew the garage needed to be cleared out – Mum wasn’t going to take up carpentry or decorating – the finality of removing the things that were so personal to him hit me hard and I felt a sudden stab of sadness deep inside. It was the end of an era and it was very difficult to accept.
The following day Faye saw her grandparents. It was the first time since they’d been told of the change in the care plan, and Faye made the sensitive decision not to take the doll with her; she left it in the cot and took Snuggles instead.
‘I think it will make Gran more upset if she sees me with the baby doll,’ Faye said.
‘Yes. That’s very sensible,’ I agreed.
It was perceptive of Faye to realize this, and it was at moments like this that I was more certain Faye had the intelligence to learn what she needed to parent her child.
Stan and Wilma were slightly cold towards me when I went in with Faye. They weren’t rude, just distant and not their usual chatty selves. I knew they had a lot to think about and that to some degree they probably blamed me for Faye changing her mind. As Wilma had said, it was highly unlikely that she’d have done so had she stayed at home with her. I appreciated how upsetting it must be for them when they’d brought up Faye for all those years. They wanted what was best for her (and the baby) and believed they knew what that was.
When I collected Faye she was ready with her coat on in the living room and I immediately sensed an atmosphere. She stood and gave both Wilma and Stan a perfunctory kiss on the cheek without its usual warmth, then they all said a muted goodbye. Stan didn’t come with us to the door to see us out as he usually did but stayed in the living room.
‘Is everything all right?’ I asked Faye as we waited for the elevator.
She brought Snuggles up to eye level and said, ‘We had to tell them, didn’t we?’
‘Tell them what?’ I asked her, not Snuggles.
‘We had to tell them not to keep trying to make me change my mind, didn’t we, Snuggles? I know it’s difficult looking after a baby, but they don’t have to keep telling me. Snuggles and me said if they didn’t stop, we wouldn’t come and see them next time. We’d see the horses instead.’
‘And did that stop them?’ I asked as the elevator arrived and we stepped in.
‘Yes. But I wouldn’t really have gone to see the horses instead. I was just saying that.’
‘I know, love.’
But well done Faye, I thought. She was the least assertive person I knew, especially around her grandparents, but when it had come to sticking up for her rights in respect of her baby she’d stood her ground and told them how she felt. This was confidence-building and another small step towards independence, which would help her when it came to looking after her baby.
The following day I took Faye shopping for the essential items we needed for her baby. With only six weeks to go before the birth, I didn’t want to leave it any later in case it arrived early. I’d persuaded Faye to leave Snuggles and the doll at home, saying she wouldn’t be able to carry them with all the things we had to buy. After the boy’s comment in the doctor’s waiting room, I appreciated how strange it must look to others to see a grown woman carrying a doll and soft toy. People sometimes stared at her anyway, and I didn’t want to make it worse by attracting more unwanted attention.
In the shopping centre I was taken aback to see that some Christmas decorations were already up, although I shouldn’t have been, as it was the first week in November and stores seem to decorate earlier and earlier. I knew I needed to make a start on my Christmas shopping, as I had a lot of people to buy for: family and friends, foster children I was still in contact with, and this year Faye, her grandparents and the baby, which was due on 14 December, would be added to my list. I would secretly make up a stocking for Faye’s baby and surprise Faye with it just before Christmas. However, today I was concentrating on buying essential items, and top of my list were the bottles, sterilizing unit and formula milk – very important, as I wanted plenty of time to teach Faye how to make up the bottles of milk.
We went to the same shop we’d been to before that sold everything for the mother-to-be and her baby and chose these items, plus some first-size nappies and vests, without much deliberation. But when it came to choosing baby clothes, Faye wanted to buy lots of pretty outfits for girls, which, although cute, weren’t practical, as we didn’t know the sex of her baby. I promised Faye I would come back to the store and buy some dresses as soon as the baby was born, assuming it was a girl, and then persuaded her to buy two packets of first-size unisex babygrows – eight in all. Faye would receive a maternity allowance from the state, but it would take a while to come through, so I was funding these purchases. We also bought a shawl for wrapping her baby in, a bottle brush, baby lotion, cream and cotton wool for cleaning its bottom. Faye wanted to buy a pram, but I explained the mother-and-baby home would have one, as well as a cot. I’d already told her this in the car on the way to the shops, but clearly she’d forgotten.
Once we’d finished shopping we had lunch in one of the cafés on the lower ground floor of the mall and then returned home. Faye was excited about all our purchases and wanted to make up a bottle of milk straight away, so while she unpacked I looked at the instruction sheets. Those for the sterilizer appeared straightforward, but when I looked at the instructions printed on the side of the can of milk formula my heart sank. The entire label on the 900-gram can, apart from a small area at the front bearing the product name, was covered in tiny print. It was so small and compact that I couldn’t even read most of it without my glasses. How could they make the instructions so complicated? Faye would never understand this in a million years.
I studied the first section, which was a feeding chart with columns and sub-columns divided into the approximate age and weight of the baby (in kilograms and pounds) and how much formula you would need for single feeds, with level scoops subdivided into millilitres and fluid ounces. Then there was a column headed ‘Number of feeds in 24 hours’. Underneath this chart were half a dozen lines of even smaller print saying that this chart was only a guide and a baby may need more or less than stated, which wasn’t helpful to someone like Faye, who needed clear and precise guidelines. This section included a recommendation to seek professional help if necessary, from a doctor or midwife. The next box was headed ‘Important feeding information’ and beneath was a list of dos and don’ts on making up, storing and warming feeds. Moving round the tin, the next twenty or so lines of tiny print were headed ‘How to open and prepare your baby’s feed’, starting with removing the seal. I scanned down the list of instructions and then, turning the tin again, looked at the next box, headed ‘Important notice’. It began by stating that breast milk was best for babies and why, and t
hen there was another list of dos and don’ts on when and when not to use formula milk. The next section, with more tightly packed print, was a long list of ingredients. Next to that there was another long list of the milk’s nutritional values – energy, fat, carbohydrates, etc. And to the side of that were three sections detailing the different types of formula milk available: 1) From birth; 2) From six months; 3) One–three years. Which took me back to the front of the tin again. A lot of this information wasn’t required for making up feeds and I knew I would have to extract what Faye needed and simplify it so she could understand what to do.
Faye had finished unpacking and was now standing beside me, eager to get started, but when she saw the lines and lines of tiny print, charts and measurements on the can she sighed despondently. ‘I can’t ever read all of that,’ she said.
‘I know. I’m struggling to work out what we do,’ I said. ‘But don’t worry. We’ll leave it for now and then when I have a chance later today I’ll write down exactly what you need to do, step by step, so you will understand it. OK?’
She smiled, relieved. ‘That’s what they do at the day centre,’ she said. ‘We have instruction sheets for doing things like making a cup of tea.’
It was possible that Faye might breastfeed, but I couldn’t rely on that. I didn’t want her panicking at the home when her baby was screaming with hunger and she was unable to make up a bottle of milk. Or to make it up incorrectly – a too thin or too concentrated formula can harm a baby, depriving it of nutrients or overloading its kidneys and digestive system.
It was evening, while Faye was watching television, before I had the chance to sit down quietly at the kitchen table with a sheet of A4 paper, a pen and the can of formula milk. I read all the instructions and charts again and then began writing down the steps needed, in bullet points, on how to prepare a bottle of milk. As I worked Adrian passed by on his way to make a drink and, pausing, came over to see what I was doing. I explained I was simplifying the instructions, but I could see from his expression that he was sceptical this was necessary. However, when he looked more closely at the instructions on the tin his expression changed. ‘What!’ he exclaimed.
‘Exactly. Faye couldn’t possibly decipher this lot, but once she learns what she has to do she’ll be fine. We’ll practise it over and over again until she knows it off by heart.’
‘Cup of tea, Mum?’ he asked, leaving my side.
‘Yes, please.’
It took me nearly an hour before I was satisfied that I had the instructions Faye needed. I also wrote a separate sheet for using the sterilizer, although this was much shorter. Now that I’d extracted just the information Faye needed to make up a bottle, I felt sure the task would appear far less daunting to her. She’d gone up for her bath and I now typed up both sets of instructions on the computer, using a reasonably large, bold font. I printed out the pages and then placed each in its own plastic sheet protector. I could do more of these instruction sheets for other things if Faye needed them. When Faye came downstairs I proudly showed her the sheets and said we’d try them out tomorrow, but she was more interested in getting back in front of the television to watch the rest of her programmes.
That night when I tucked Faye and Snuggles into bed she gave me a big hug and thanked me for taking her shopping and buying the things for her baby.
‘You’re welcome, love,’ I said. ‘It’s important you have everything you need ready in plenty of time. We should pack your hospital bag soon as well, in case you go into labour early.’
‘What’s labour?’ she asked, although I’d explained this many times before.
‘It’s when you start to have your baby. Do you remember, I told you that it starts slowly with little tummy pains called contractions? Then the tummy pains – the contractions – get bigger and more often. We go into hospital and you then work hard to push your baby out. That’s why it’s called labour.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I remember now.’ She gave me another hug and then looked thoughtful. ‘I can remember things, can’t I?’
‘Yes, of course you can. You’ve remembered lots of things all your life.’
‘Gran says I can’t remember enough to look after a baby, but I’m going to show her she is wrong.’
‘That’s the spirit. Once your gran sees you looking after your baby and knows you can do it, I’m sure she’ll feel much happier.’
‘I want Gran and Grandpa to be happy so we can all live together again. Me, Gran, Grandpa and my baby.’
‘That sounds good,’ I said, but I didn’t say any more. I’d no idea if Faye and her baby would ever be able to live with her grandparents.
Chapter Sixteen
Teaching Faye
The following morning, Saturday, once Faye was up and dressed and had finished her breakfast, she was eager to learn how to make up a bottle of milk. It was ten o’clock, Adrian had gone to work and Paula and Lucy were wandering around in their dressing gowns, taking their time getting up, as it was the weekend. Faye came with me to the kitchen where I set the two instruction sheets in their plastic sleeves side by side on the work surface. I carefully explained what each was for.
‘You can do that one,’ Faye said, pointing to the sheet for sterilizing the bottles. ‘I want to put the milk in the bottles.’
‘You have to learn to do both,’ I said. ‘All the bottles must be washed well in warm water and sterilized before you make up the milk.’ I’d explained this when we’d gone shopping for the sterilizer, but as with many new things Faye had to hear it a number of times before it was committed to memory. ‘If you don’t sterilize the bottle, germs could make your baby sick,’ I emphasized. ‘So what is the first thing you do?’ I pointed to number one on the step-by-step instructions for sterilizing the bottles.
‘One. Wash all the bottles in warm water,’ she read slowly, as a young child might.
‘Good. Go on then. There are the bottles and the bottle brush in the sink ready. Just run the hot water and add a squirt of washing-up liquid. I know the bottles aren’t dirty, but they will be once you start using them. Always take off the tops of the bottles – the teats – to wash them.’
‘I’m good at washing up,’ Faye said. ‘I do it at home for Gran.’
‘Excellent.’ I stood to one side and watched as she slowly and rather laboriously began cleaning the first bottle. ‘That’s right, push the brush right down to the end of the bottle and turn it round and round,’ I said. ‘Great. Now the next one.’ She carefully set the first bottle on the draining board and picked up the next. ‘When you’ve had your baby and you are doing this for real, you’ll need to have bottles cleaned and sterilized in plenty of time so you always have a feed ready, but we’ll cover that another time.’
It took Faye a good ten minutes to wash and rinse the four bottles and teats and place them on the drainer. She set the bottle brush beside them and then carefully tipped the water from the bowl. She turned to me with a big smile of satisfaction from a job well done. ‘Can I put the milk in the bottles now?’
‘Not yet,’ I said, passing her the towel to wipe her hands. ‘We have to do something else first. Something very important. Can you remember what it is? If not, read number two on the list.’
She returned to the work surface and studied the instruction sheet for the sterilizer as I stood beside her. ‘What does number two say?’ I asked gently. ‘Do you know?’
‘I can read some of it,’ she said. ‘Two. Fill the …’ She didn’t know the next word.
‘Measuring jug,’ I read, then helped her with the rest of the sentence, ‘with two hundred millilitres of water. Here’s the jug,’ I said, passing it to her. ‘Can you see the line on the jug for two hundred mils?’
She studied the side of the jug and then pointed to the correct line.
‘Excellent,’ I said.
Pleased, she stood there looking at me, the jug in her hand.
‘What do you do now?’ I asked. She continued looking at me.
‘If you’ve forgotten, look at the instruction sheet again. I’ve written it to help you.’
She looked down at the sheet and read the line out again. ‘Fill the measuring jug with … Oh yes. I put the water in it.’
‘That’s right. Good. Use the cold water. Fill the jug to the line that shows two hundred mils.’ It was possible that Faye had never used a measuring jug before.
She turned on the cold tap and the water came out in a rush. ‘It’s too much,’ she said, panicking slightly and quickly turning off the tap again.
‘Don’t worry. Just tip a little out until you have about two hundred mils.’ She licked her bottom lip as she concentrated.
‘That’s two hundred,’ she said.
‘Excellent. Bring the jug over here and we’ll look at the next step.’
I helped her read the third stage, pointing to each word as we read: ‘Take out the tray in the sterilizer and pour the water into the base.’
I showed her where the tray was and she tipped in the water.
‘Good. Next,’ I said. ‘You’re doing well. It will all become easier with practice.’
‘Put the tray back in,’ she read.
I helped her slide it back into place and then we read the next step together: ‘Place the bottles and teats in the top.’ I did one to show her and she loaded the others.
‘Well done.’
‘Put the lid back on,’ she read slowly from the sheet.