Now the bottle of milk was finished I wondered if Harrison might need a change of nappy, so I stood to go upstairs, where the changing mat, nappies and creams were – in the spare bedroom. But before I got to the sitting-room door the phone rang. I returned to the sofa and picked up the handset from the corner unit.
‘Hello?’
‘How’s the little man doing?’ Jill asked. She was phoning from her mobile; I could hear traffic in the background.
‘Great,’ I said. ‘He’s in my arms now. I’ve fed him; he’s taken all the bottle, and now I’m going to change him.’
‘There! I told you you’d remember what do to,’ she said. ‘It’s like riding a bicycle: you don’t forget once you’ve done it. Have you got everything you need?’
‘Yes, I think so. The hospital said the health visitor would visit in the next few days, so I’ll be able to ask her, if there’s anything I don’t know.’
‘Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then at ten-thirty and Cheryl would like to visit you and Harrison on Friday morning. She said it would be between eleven and twelve o’clock. Is that OK with you?’
‘Yes. Fine.’
‘She’ll bring the paperwork. Do you want me to come then as well?’
‘Not unless you want to. I know what to do.’
‘Great. See you both tomorrow.’
As I put the phone down Harrison went very still and frowned. A smell rose from his nappy.
‘I think it’s time for a nappy change, little fellow,’ I said, kissing the tip of his nose. He looked into my eyes and seemed to smile at me. I felt an overwhelming surge of love and protectiveness towards him, just as any mother would.
Upstairs, I went into the spare bedroom, which contained all the baby equipment apart from the cot, which was in my bedroom. I lay Harrison on the changing mat on the bed and began unbuttoning his sleepsuit. He watched me as I worked and then he waved his little fists in the air. I took off the nappy, cleaned him with the baby wipes, and then put him in a clean nappy. He was so good throughout the whole process, as if he sensed I was new to this and was helping me. I placed the soiled nappy and wipes in a nappy bag, which I knotted, ready to throw in the bin. It was only then I remembered that as a foster carer I was supposed to use disposable gloves when changing a baby’s nappy, just as I was supposed to use them when clearing up bodily fluids from any foster child. This was part of our ‘safer caring policy’, designed to keep the whole family safe from the transmission of infectious diseases. HIV, Hepatitis B and C (for example) can be spread through bodily fluids – blood, saliva, faeces, etc. – and whereas a birth mother usually knows she hasn’t any of these diseases and therefore hasn’t transmitted them to her baby through the umbilical cord, I as the foster carer usually did not know (unless I was told), so we practised safer caring. And while Jill had said Harrison’s mother wasn’t a drug addict – so the chances of Harrison carrying a virus were slim – I obviously couldn’t be certain. Having placed Harrison safely in the bouncing cradle, I went through to the bathroom and thoroughly washed my hands in hot soapy water. I then returned to the bedroom and took the packet of disposable gloves I’d bought the day before from the drawer and placed them beside the changing mat so that I would remember to use a pair next time.
It was now 2.30 and at three o’clock I would need to leave the house to collect Adrian and Paula from school. I carried Harrison and the bouncing cradle downstairs and sat him in the cradle in the sitting room while I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. I hadn’t had time for lunch; I’d make up for it at dinner, but I was thirsty. I drank the water and then returned to the sitting room. I wanted to quickly telephone my parents. I hadn’t told them Harrison was coming; it had all happened so quickly, and also I’d wanted to save them from worrying. Harrison, now fed and changed, was clearly feeling very comfortable and starting to doze so, perching on the sofa, I quietly picked up the phone and dialled my parents’ number. Mum’s voice answered with their number.
‘Hi, Mum, it’s Cathy,’ I whispered so that I didn’t disturb Harrison. ‘I have a baby boy.’
‘Pardon?’ she said. ‘I can’t hear you properly. It’s a bad line. I thought you said you’d had a baby?’
‘I have,’ I said slightly louder, smiling to myself. ‘We’re fostering a baby. He’s only two days old.’
‘A baby. Two days old!’ Mum repeated, surprised, and confirming she’d heard right.
‘Yes. I collected him from the hospital a couple of hours ago. He’s called Harrison and he’s lovely.’
‘Good gracious me!’ Mum exclaimed. ‘How are you managing with a baby?’
‘All right so far. I’ve fed and changed him and he didn’t complain. Soon I’ll take him in the car to meet Adrian and Paula from school. Come and visit as soon as you like.’
‘We will,’ Mum said excitedly. ‘I’ll speak to your father as soon as he arrives home from work and we’ll arrange to come over. How long do you think you’ll have him for?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’m seeing Jill tomorrow, so I should know more then.’
‘You’ll get very attached to him,’ Mum warned. ‘I know you do with all the children you look after, but a baby … Well, how will you ever be able to give him up?’
‘I’ll worry about that when the time comes,’ I said, lightly dismissive. ‘He’s only just arrived.’ Yet as I finished talking to Mum and we said goodbye I knew she was right. It was going to be heartbreaking when we eventually had to say goodbye to Harrison, and not only for Adrian, Paula and me but also for Harrison.
At 2.50, allowing plenty of time to collect Adrian and Paula from school, I carefully lifted Harrison, still asleep, from the bouncing cradle and tucked him into the carry car seat. The trolley bag from Harrison’s mother was still in the hall and I now took it upstairs and put it in Harrison’s room, where it would be out of the way. I’d unpack it later when I had the time. Downstairs again, I picked up the pram chassis (which the baby seat fitted into) and, opening the front door, took it out to the car, where I stowed it in the boot. I returned to the hall and carried Harrison in the seat to the car and strapped him under the rear belt, carefully checking all the straps. While all this took time and conscious thought I knew that very soon it would become an easy routine which I would follow automatically on leaving the house, just as I had with Adrian and Paula.
I felt self-conscious and also excited as I entered the playground pushing the pram that afternoon. Although Adrian and Paula knew I would be collecting Harrison from the hospital, it had all happened so quickly that none of my friends and mothers to whom I chatted in the playground knew I would be arriving with a baby. I was right in thinking it would cause some interest and comments, for within a minute of entering the playground Harrison was the centre of attention. ‘Oh, what a darling baby!’ … ‘Isn’t he cute!’ … ‘That was quick work, Cathy!’ … ‘He’s not very old’ … ‘You’re a sly one – who’s the lucky guy?’ … ‘I’m broody’ … and so on.
When the bell rang, signalling the end of school, I pushed the pram towards the door Paula would come out of. Those mothers with children in the same class came with me, still chatting and asking questions about Harrison, while others went off to collect children
