Can I Let You Go?. Cathy Glass

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      When I’d first been asked to look after Faye I’d had huge concerns that my family and I would find it too upsetting to support Faye through her pregnancy, that we would grow close to her and her unborn baby, and then have to watch as the baby was taken into care. However, the more time I spent with Faye and got to know her, the more I was realizing that she couldn’t possibly look after a baby. It took all her skills, time and concentration to look after herself. She was a lovely person, but she functioned like a young child. Her numeracy and literacy skills were such that she wouldn’t be able to read and understand instructions on a packet of baby formula, for example, or on how to use a sterilizer or how to take medication (for herself or the baby), or do any of the other many requirements that go into parenting. Faye had little concept of time and lived unhurriedly, largely in her own little world, away from the pressures, demands and commitments that being an adult entails. I had no doubt that if she was immersed in watching a soap on television and the baby began crying for food or needed its nappy changing, Faye would finish watching the television programme first. Not because she was unkind or wilfully neglectful, but simply because she wouldn’t comprehend the urgency of her baby’s needs and that small babies require feeding and changing regularly. Wilma and Stan weren’t in any position to help and support her. They were already finding it too much looking after her and, indeed, needed help themselves. While Faye could still gain much from new experiences, her intellect had probably reached a plateau, which just wasn’t sufficient for parenting, sad though this was. I was therefore gradually accepting that finding a loving adoptive family for Faye’s baby was the best outcome for all concerned, and hopefully after the birth Faye would be able to resume her old life with her grandparents.

      That night I slept easier, although when I heard Faye get up to go to the toilet I went round the landing to check she was all right. She was, and went straight back to bed. Did she know that the reason she was having to wee more often was because she was pregnant? I doubted it, and it was something else I’d explain to her after Becky had talked to her on Friday.