The First Night. What's it like?

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By Elizabeth (A Real foster Carer)

The phone call came at 3.00pm on a Friday.

I was at work chatting to my colleague at the neighboring desk when a private number rang. It was my agency. There were two boys, aged 3 years and 4 months old. They only needed a placement until Monday, could we take them?

I called Husband, who was also at work. He was on shift until 10pm that night and working over the weekend so he was happy to take them, but I would need to look after them alone in the afternoons. It was only a couple of days, I could manage, so I called the agency back and told them we were a yes.

The next phone call came at 3.30pm. The placement need had changed, the boys now needed a place for a week, are we still in? I started to call Husband again when I got the third call from the agency. Something had happened, the placement no longer has a time frame. If we say yes now we are saying yes to an unknown length of time. I called Husband again and we decided we were still in.

I let our agency worker know to put our names forward and went back to work while I waited to hear whether I would be picking up two kids that afternoon. An hour later I found out the boys were coming to us. I was told their names. I was told they were in the process of being collected by Child Safety Officers from their childcare centre and I would need to wait until Child Safety told me they were ready to be picked up. I left work and raced home to quickly put two car seats in the car.

I called my mother and told her two little ones were coming, could she come over to help me settle them for that first night? I headed to the shops to grab bottles, formula, undies, pyjamas, a new toothbrush. The shops were near the Child Safety Service Centre and I figured it wouldn’t be long. I wandered around, checking out the little boys clothing sections, wondering what size clothes the kids would wear and what they would come with. It was nearly 8pm when I received the call to collect the boys. I would find out months later the delay was due to the removal of the boys going so badly the childcare centre had to lockdown and Police had to attend.

Even at 8pm on a Friday night there were a dozen people still working at the Child Safety Service Centre. There was a little blonde boy racing up and down the office with a worker chasing him. He was wearing long pants in summer and shoes that were clearly several sizes too big, resulting in him having to adjust the way he ran like a sweet, little duck out of water. The baby had a full head of dark curly hair and a dirty shirt which was too small. A worker had wrapped him in their own cardigan. The worker handed the baby to me and offered to help me get the boys to the car. There were no possessions to carry, they were coming with only the clothes on their backs. As I loaded them into the car the baby started screaming and proceeded to scream the entire 15 minutes journey to my house. Mr Three quickly lost patience, screaming profanities at the baby and me for not being able to make the baby be quiet.

Thank goodness for mothers! She took the bottles I had bought and quickly washed and filled one for the baby, feeding him while I sourced food for Mr Three who loudly and repeatedly proclaimed he was starving. All my offers of food were rejected so deciding he would take matters into his own hands, Mr Three searched my pantry coming up with a can of spaghetti which I promptly microwaved and served. Mr Three refused to have a shower, brush his teeth or change into the new pyjamas I had bought for him. We did manage to negotiate removing his shoes for bed. He explained they were his only pair of shoes and he wasn’t allowed to lose them because mum and dad would not buy him another pair. We agreed he could tuck his shoes into bed beside him.

I read Mr Three and his shoes a bedtime story, told him goodnight and kissed his head. I think he was asleep before I made it down the hall. The baby had fallen asleep on my mother. I looked at his dirty shirt, his hair full of cradle cap, the dirt between his toes and gunk in his eyelashes, and I decided he had been through enough that day. I could clean him up tomorrow. I put him into the cot, sunk to the floor and stared at his perfect little face.

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If you find any of the content above distressing. Remember there is help available.

Contact Lifeline on 13 11 14 or lifeline.org.au - 24 hours a day, 7 days a week