I have previously written of my Approval Panel – a happy, odd, good occasion, shared with my lovely amazing mother (and my thoughtful and supportive Social Worker too).
Spotting, opening and reading the notification from the Agency Decision Maker (ADM) a few days later had a totally different feel.
I actually knew the ADM had approved me already. I’d listened to a voicemail left within the required 24 hours because (as is normal where I live) I had no reception. I’d smiled so broadly the friend I happened to be with – who knew the message I was awaiting – had guessed my news before I even came off the phone. I’d told family and friends too, and shared in the excitement and the happiness. Good times.
Yet receiving the letter was still a little bit different.
I was coming back from I know not where, just in through the front door, house keys in hand. I skilfully slinked around my bike – the obstacle which hogs much of my porch and which no doubt I will need to find a new home for soon – and reached over it to pick up the letter lying on the floor, realisation dawning as I did so as to its probable contents. A break in time began, a few micro-seconds I am sure, that nonetheless felt like an age. An envelope opened, a quick scan of the formal template letter inside – and then a brief pause in reality as I hugged myself and treasured a future that suddenly had cleaner lines and stronger definition.
My hopes and dreams were going to be. I was going to be granted that huge amazing privilege.
I was going to be a Mummy.