In South Africa today, a 12 year old girl can walk into a clinic and, with no questions asked & no parental/guardian knowledge or consent required, have an abortion.

I don’t imagine many 12 year old girls do actually do this but it’s legally allowed in this country.   I wonder how many do?  I wonder how many 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 25, 35 year old do?

Imagine how many rapists and molesters  get away with their evil acts because girls are basically instructed by the law that they don’t have to tell anyone that they have been raped. They’re allowed to simply “get rid of” the resulting pregnancy, the resulting baby; easy as ABC.

Far more often – imagine the millions of babies that are poisoned/scraped/pushed/pulled away simply because they weren’t planned, weren’t dreamed of, weren’t scheduled or desperately prayed for . A drunken horny event with a boyfriend or one-night-stand, or an oh-dear-we-don’t-have-a-condom-but-just-pull-out situation.   No worries , just pop down to the clinic when you get a chance . R350 can get it done away with.

I recently read a post by a TTC lady who, at her follow up gynae appointment (in a way-more-affordable government hospital), was in a waiting queue with a young girl/teen/20-something saying things like, “get this thing out of me  before it makes me fat!”

Yep. No kidding.

Imagine if abortions were only carried out in the most dire and tragic circumstances, like rape or incest and assault, and every other ‘accidental’ pregnancy was not terminate-able. Would humans stop behaving inhumanely?

Would they wake up to the simple law of action and consequence?

Would the, “oh well, just kill it before it makes you fat or before anyone realises what you’ve done” attitude end?


WEDNESDAY continued…

We stopped in at our local Social & Child Welfare offices on our way home.  No, they hadn’t received the email the CW said she’d be writing while we were on our way.  Yes, they could definitely give us the initial forms etc. to fill but would only progress and do a physical home check once they heard from the out of town CW.  The local social worker was so excited for us and incredibly helpful and positive.


We filled in the ‘life history’ forms Wednesday evening and used Thursday lunch hour to get to the police station for our stamped and signed affidavit regarding no criminal history etc. Headed to the hospital lab for the required ‘urine test’ but didn’t complete that as nobody knew what it was to check for exactly, even after the nurse phoned the Social Welfare offices to double check.

Later in the day, I called the local SW to see if there’d been any comms from the CW.  There hadn’t.  I called the CW and she sounded totally confused as to what email or letter I was talking about as she had no recollection of her own words about sending comms ahead to our local SW.  Believe me, I had to physically hold my breath and just keep silent a couple of times during that conversation.  She now said that the first step would be for her to get the court application in to officially ‘unplace’ him from his current foster home.  (which, by the way, he’d already been removed from and placed back with Grandmother, who, we were to learn, had zero guardianship or any legal say at all)

**This is my experience and my opinion — When you deal with government social welfare departments and government social workers, you are entirely at their mercy.  No matter how slack, slow, wrongly informed, or pleasant (hah!), they are, you have to keep your cool, be polite and bite back your frustration.  If not, you’re labelled as difficult, impatient, etc. That’s all I will say about that.  I knew this way before 2016**


We spent the next to weeks preparing both physically and emotionally, sharing the news with our parents, pastor and close friends, making sure to only call the CW or SW for possible updates or changes every so often so as to not be a ‘nuisance’.  If we had known that he was peacefully placed with a steady foster mom/dad/family, there would’ve been no need for us to call and follow up.  This was not the case.  The day after our meeting him, he was removed from the Grandmother and placed with a seasoned and experienced foster couple who are registered to foster for up to two weeks at a time in crisis situations.  We knew that, if court dates and red tape didn’t get a move on, he’d be moved yet again after the two weeks was up.  Another unnecessary disruption to his little life, his little heart.  Maddening.

With mentions of ‘toddler showers’ and generous offers of everything from cute bedding sets to child care assistance and professional therapy, I allowed myself only 3 purchases in preparation for his ‘homecoming’ – a bright fireman/fire-engine print fleece blanket, a pair of cute long winter jammies and 2 pairs of non slip socks.


I was determined to hold out until the next Monday to call the CW to make sure the court date was on track.  DH felt otherwise and called her mid-morning.   She reiterated that she was waiting on the actual court date to be set for the official ‘unplacement’ and that we must “be patient”.


Something made me phone our local SW office before calling the original CW.  She was her pleasant self and asked if we’d been contacted by the CW at all.  No, we hadn’t.  “I’m so devastated for you”, she said, amongst other things.  My heart absolutely froze.  Had he been hurt?  Had he been killed?  (Yes, I tend to jump to the worst case scenario.)   The fact was that the CW had called our local SW office THE THURSDAY BEFORE and told them to not call us but that we would not be considered to foster the boy.  This phone call was made the DAY BEFORE the CW spoke to my DH – the day before she said to him, Be Patient.  We’d spent the weekend in happy preparation and dreamland, expecting to possibly collect the little guy and begin the hard and awesome transition weeks in a couple of days.       Broken.

It turned out that the CW’s supervisor, once she had been updated on the case and the goings on, had reprimanded the CW as we apparently should not have been considered from day one, simply because we live a 2 hour’s drive away.  In this day and age?  A 2 hour’s drive is prohibitive to future visitations/reunification of birth mom and child?  2 hours?  A hardship?  Really?  We would’ve driven miles for that kid.  For his well being; whatever path that ended up being.   And, it turned out, the birth mother was now magically not AWOL at all and actually in rehab and on track and had all intentions of stepping up to be a real mother at last.

Do you know that I never phoned the original CW to confirm her horse-crap unprofessionalism and her cowardice.  I never phoned to make certain that this was true; that her total ineptitude was the reason that this boy would now not be placed securely as soon as possible and that we’d been living in some invented future of our dreams thanks to her.

Worse;  she never phoned me.  Never phoned us.  Never explained.  Never apologised.  Never let us know if he was okay.  Never let us know if was placed.  Never let us know.

Who are we, after all?  Some couple; some unknowing couple with no legal right to know anything at all.  Some couple who have a dozen conspiracy theories ranging from, oh no, are we not good enough, to, there must be something illegal going on, like, case worker bribing or underhanded queue-jumping on the part of waiting adoptive couples.  Yep, I know.

We’re heartbroken.  We prayed for that little boy to be securely watched by He who watches over every sparrow and numbers every blond hair on that special head.  We pray for him still.



An unexpected mid-year up, followed by a big down.

June 2016.  SUNDAY evening.

I was in the middle of making supper – a stir-fry – and my phone bleeped with a Whatsapp message.  When I saw who the message was from – a hello, how are you, IF friend-but-not-close friend – I imagined it maybe being a request for photographs at a child’s party or something.

The message was to ask if we would consider fostering a little boy long-term, with the possibility of adoption depending on, you know, life.  I froze.  My first thought, honestly, was, Should I even tell DH (dear husband) about the message?  She wrote that it was a family member who was in communication with her and that she had thought of us straight away, and should she send a photograph through, or not?  This was over about 10 minutes of messaging.  I did tell DH.  Well, actually I walked through and gave him my phone to read for himself.  Yes, say yes to a photo, DH said.

The photo loads.  The mop of light blonde hair, the pale blue eyes looking out questioningly, the little point of chin tilted at the camera.  There was no way we’d say no but, yes, we needed more information on the hows and whys and wheres.  Very quickly, the Case Worker’s name and contact details came through.


I phoned the CW and explained who I was and why I was phoning.  Confusion at first as she thought I was phoning from “an organisation” – I don’t know why.  She took my number, phoned the family member to confirm I was who I said I was, and called me straight back.  He is healthy and loved and possibly hyperactive (no diagnosis),she said.  She could arrange a meeting the very next day.


I arrived at work intending to have to cancel the CW meeting as I wasn’t able to organise a stand-in for work with such short notice.  My boss had, though.  The stand-in he’d organised was a client’s daughter.  Her name was the female version of the boy’s name.  Totally got goosebumps.  Postponed the meeting by a couple of hours and off we drove.  It was a 2 hour drive – easy traffic and no bother at all.

CW met us alone at first and filled us in on a little bit of his history.  What a short life – two and a half years – to have experienced the upheaval and difficulties that he apparently had.  Young mom with addictive tendencies and no ability to have the responsibility of raising her child.  Grandmother with emotional issues who could not cope with guardianship of the boy.  Were we ready to meet him?  Oh, yes.

Little bucket of Duplo/Lego blocks in one hand – quickly emptied onto the CW’s desk and built into two little towers before the CW’s offer of a sweet grabbed his attention.  Those same pale blue eyes from the photograph, the little chin and chopped blonde bangs.  He was beautiful.  He was calm.  He was playful.  We – me and he – had a ‘moment’ when DH was talking to the Grandmother and the CW had stepped out to let us all talk.  I drew a little picture on some note paper and whispered something about it to him.  He responded in a whisper too.  My heart was so happy.  We had an hour with them altogether – much questions asked (on both sides) and a better understanding of the situation.

We left with the knowledge that the CW was going to email our local welfare department while we were driving on our way home, so they could begin their various security and home checks on us.  Because his birth mother was out of contact and her whereabouts unknown to the CW, it was basically decided that, once the red tape and court documents were complete, we could return to collect this little boy.  We spoke a million words and spoke no words at all, all the way home.  It was awesome to see DH so firmly committed and excited/concerned/over-the-moon about having this little person in our lives.  Meeting him opened our hearts up to wanting to protect, love, teach, and absolutely envelope him into our family and our lives.  Not just because we’re childless but because of who he was, because of what he’d experienced out of life so far, and because of what we wanted him to experience in his future.

Selling and sewing

Well, I must admit that sewing fleece quickly lost its fun factor BUT the scarves are still selling each time I renew the Facebook ad (usually weekly).   That’s a good thing!

Today I made a baby blanket with a matching ‘taggy’ blankie and have posted it for sale too. I bought pink and blue fabric but only sewed up the pink set so far. Will see if there are any takers/orders before I buy/sew any more.




Sewing to sell…

My “advert”

Amazing what a buzz you get when someone buys something you’ve made!  I’ve always been terrified of anyone actually paying me money for something I’ve cut out and sewn from scratch.  Will they see my seam wasn’t quite as arrow straight as it could’ve been?  Did I miss any errors?  Scanning over each hemline or edge to spot an untrimmed piece of thread.  Terrifying!

BUT – the chilly winter weather that blew in this weekend, with accompanying grey clouds and quite a bit of rain, did WONDERS.  Last week I took the plunge by advertising (using both the pic to the left and another showing the scarves worn by me) but I had such a low response that I ended the week on quite a low.  Today, with the wintery chill still on the wind, I posted the ad again and, Ta Daaah, orders!!

I now need to get my butt back to the fabric shop to stock up on the deep pinky colour and the grey.  I’ll let you know how it goes.