The Foster Carer’s Daughter

A diary about my life as the daughter of two respected and busy Foster Carers. Real life stories about children I meet and lives that I help shape. Laugh, cry and hopefully enjoy.

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4. The First Child

The first one was called Melody. She was sixteen years old when she first came to live with us, we knew from the start it wasn't going to last. Melody was a teenage runaway. Melody was troubled, she had fallen into drugs and had a twenty year boyfriend, who social services had stopped her from seeing.

Melody was a lovely girl, but at nine years old she terrified me. But she was everything I wanted to be, she was pretty, skinny and had a way of getting what she wanted, it's only now that I can see that she is everything that I wanted. But part of me didn't look up to her. I didn't admire her, at least, I don't now.

Looking back I could see how much I wanted to be like her, she didn't care about what anyone said, she was her own person, she didn't follow any rules and I loved the nine year old me loved the idea of that.

Melody had been living with us for a few weeks when she first ran away. Mum was really angry, I remember her blaming herself but we all knew it wasn't her fault, she hadn't dealt with teenagers before. I was nearly ten, hardly a child let alone an adult. But she blamed herself none the less.

They called the police, they had to, she was a vulnerable missing person. The police came round, two of them, both PCs on the local police force. They promised Mum they had officers around the town looking for her. Mum invited them in, and as part of their inquiry they asked to have a look around her bedroom to see if she was hiding in there. Mum was really angry, she told them she had already looked in there and that she wasn't stupid. But they searched the room regardless, funnily enough they didn't find her in there.

Melody was found, thankfully, she was at her friend's house. She moved out of our house shortly after that. Mum said she needed to take a break from Fostering, she said she didn't like it.

Part of me was grateful, I thought finally I would get what I wanted. That we would stop Fostering and things would go back to how they were and that we could forget all about this. But we didn't. Dad persuaded her and she 'came to her senses' we began Fostering again soon after that. This time we had two boys, young boys aged four and six.    

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