The Five Little Ducks Blog

Last weekend we took the four little ducks on an outing to the city to visit Wildlife World and the Aquarium. To be completely honest, the whole day was a bit of a disaster. It was long and tiring, filled with tears and tantrums. Miss A complained a lot. Miss L cried often, wanting to be cuddled. I have no plans to go on another family outing for at least three years. Daddy Duck and I did our best to remain cheerful, and we got a few good photographs, so that is all that matters, right?

I asked Miss A whether she had been to the city or the aquarium before; she replied no.  A four year old’s memory is however slightly unreliable. It made me think about how little I know about these children. Miss A has lived in at least ten different homes since she was born, not including respite arrangements. I do not know the true reasons for our nieces’ removal or where or with whom they have been placed. Their original “blue books” (early childhood records) have been lost. The replacement books are completely blank except for the vaccination pages; no records of birth weights and all the other things about which a mother cares. The carer they spent the last ten months with had some kind of technical malfunction on her laptop and has not given us a single photograph of the girls from that period. I do not know what kind of birthday cakes they have had or whether they have ever had a birthday party.

There is so much I can tell you about my birth children. I can tell you about the first time Mr E smiled at me, how I literally jumped with joy. I can hear a particular Top 40 song and be transported to the lounge in the early hours of the morning, watching Video Hits while breastfeeding. I can look at a certain colourful hat and be reminded of my lecturer who gave it to me for my new baby, or one of the many beautiful cardigans my aunt has lovingly knitted for my children. Name a common childhood illness and I can tell you whether Miss R has had it (the list is quite long). I could count on my fingers the number of nights that I have had apart from each of my children, and I could tell you every place they have visited on holiday. For all the years my children will not recall, I have so many memories. All about my pregnancy with each of them; their labours. Feeding Mr E to sleep and feeling utterly serene. The first time Miss R ate solids. Mr E’s first steps on the day before his first birthday, and how the next day he had such dreadful teething pain that there was blood in his mouth. The way Miss R would jiggle her body to music. All the walks in the pram to get a certain child to sleep. Smelling my baby’s sweet breath as they slept in my bed, nuzzling him or her with my cheek. It’s all jumbled up into a succession of remembrances. There were many challenges but in hindsight it is oh-so-beautiful.

I am “mum” now to two new children, and there is so much a mother should know that I do not. I feel like they are rescue pets from the animal shelter. I have a little background information; the rest is all guess work.

These girls carry a wound. I do not know what trauma they have experienced, but I am convinced that they have been hurt by the inconsistency and instability in their young lives.

Miss A can be quite a sulky child. Lying comes easily to her, she struggles with self-control. Her scream during tantrums is quite ear piercing. I have not yet heard Miss L scream during a tantrum. She says something crankily, like “going to my room!” but then she is withdrawn. Neither child is skilled at naming her emotions; both are extremely sensitive to reprimand. Miss A seems quite eager to please me. She likes to stay with me when I cook and prepare food so that she can be ‘helpful’. She tells me that she loves me without any prompting. As much as she enjoys preschool, she would rather stay at home with me. Miss L hurts herself a lot during the day; each sore requires comforting. Every night at bedtime she cries loudly until she falls asleep. There is something mournful and afraid in her cry that moves me and makes me wonder. How many beds has she slept in? How many women has she called ‘mum’? How can she be certain that tomorrow she will not be moved again?

These children have had so little say in their own lives. No choice in who they lived with. When they have contact visits with their biological father or grandparents, they are collected from our house by a stranger and sent off in a car. I would never dream of packing my birth children into a vehicle with someone they had never met, let alone a lot of people that we do know. We were practically strangers to these girls, yet a government agency decided that we would be their new family. Their official guardian is the Minister for Children. I doubt he has ever heard their names.

In the stress of the last few weeks, I know that I have not been as warm, relaxed or cheerful in my parenting of these girls as I was in the past with Mr E and Miss R. Last night after all the other ducklings were asleep and Miss L was still crying in her bed, I decided to lay down and just stay with her until I felt sure that she was really comforted. I sang my usual Sunday School songs (the best lullabies I know), stroked her head, scratched her back. She calmed and eventually I felt sure that my presence was keeping her awake as she enjoyed cuddling my neck and touching my face. Today I reminded myself to actively delight in these children, the way I have delighted in my own. I tried to embrace each request for a cuddle from both of the girls. I brought out my old Barbie clothes and played dolls with Miss A. I sat patiently as she brushed and tugged at my hair, and found myself enjoying it. I tickled Miss L and blew raspberries on her belly. She giggled a lot. We rubbed noses and I became the recipient of many kisses. She did not cry so much at bedtime tonight. Miss A enjoys our evening routine. We snuggle as I read books, and as long as I sing “Let it go” to her in her darkened room, as I do every night, giving her a kiss and a hug as I tell her that I love her, she is fairly happy to go to sleep without any further drama.

Sometimes I wish that I could go back in time to have fought harder to get care of the girls earlier in the piece. Then I might have been able to prevent some of the damage these children have suffered. Then I would know more about their infancy. But we cannot change the past, and I have to trust that it was God’s Will for us to become our nieces’ carers now. Perhaps Daddy Duck and I were not ‘ready’? Maybe I was not strong enough, and all that I have gone through and learned with raising Mr E and Miss R prepared us for the times to come?

Miss A loves to look through a little album I made of the few photographs we have of her and Miss L as new babies with their parents. She seems confused about the whole situation. But it gives me hope that she is so excited to see the pictures with me and Daddy Duck in them. Today she told me that she wants more photos in the album. In the last few weeks I have probably taken enough pictures to fill it up to overflowing.

A few weeks ago as I was filling out childcare enrolment forms I asked our nieces’ carer (at the time) for assistance with questions about their personalities, favourite foods, hobbies and interests. I was disappointed with how little she was able to tell me, giving general answers like “they eat most foods” and “no, they don’t have any favourite…” Her answers to the personality questions were quite negative, especially about Miss A. If I held the same forms in my hands now, I could answer most of these questions very easily. I may not know a lot about our new daughters’ past, but I am doing my best to know them now.