Six years ago, DAVE THOMASand his partner decided to become foster parents – but as a gay couple, they faced and uphill struggle. Here, he recalls the obstacles they overcame to provide a family for children in need
WE FIRST thought about fostering six years ago. Patrick and I wanted children, but gay couples in Ireland aren’t allowed to adopt, which seemed unfair. So we discussed fostering, which is allowed.
It would be another two years before we would apply. In that time, we wondered whether we would be able to cope with the challenging behaviour of a damaged child. How would it affect our private lives? Would people talk about us in a negative way?
To foster in Ireland, you apply either to the HSE or a private fostering company. We chose the private company, which had a comprehensive list of support services. A social worker visited and explained that the intensive assessment could take months.
If you had any skeletons in your closet, she warned, they would emerge. We had no concerns on that score, and waited excitedly for the letter of acceptance from the company. When it arrived, it was a rejection.
A representative explained that, while we were “excellent candidates to foster”, the company was rejecting us because I had not told my parents I was gay. They accepted that my elderly parents already knew, but they still wanted me to tell them.
Unless that happened, our application would go no further. We asked the company whether they had insisted that heterosexual couples tell their parents they were straight. They hadn’t.
We wrote suggesting they were discriminating against us. When the company director visited, we told him we would pursue legal action. A week later, our application was processed.
We had won our first battle, but another lay ahead.
***
Our file went to a review panel run by the HSE, the only agency that can approve foster carers. After months of meetings – during which our panel would run out of time to review our application, then seek clarifications, then once again run out of time to deal with our case – our application was unanimously rejected.
We told the HSE we believed their decision was unfair and once again threatened legal action. The agency promptly replied, asking us resubmit the application.
More months passed; more questions had to be answered. I agreed to answer them, never thinking for one minute that I was going to be asked detailed questions about our sex life.
Though this was all very stressful, Patrick and I grew ever more determined to prove that a gay male couple could be foster carers.
While waiting for a decision on our application, we went to a monthly support group, where I developed a deep respect for foster carers.
Some of the children they cared for had experienced horrific sexual abuse, physical abuse, and neglect through not being fed, washed or loved.
After 18 months, we were finally approved by the HSE. The company told us that we were the first gay male couple to have gone through the system and passed. However, there was a “but”. We could care only for seven- to 12 year-olds, and a child could only live with us for a maximum of 28 days, meaning we couldn’t foster a child long-term.
We appealed both decisions but, while waiting, we were allowed to provide respite for foster children.
***
We had 14 placements in our first year, 12 traumatic, stressful, amazing, funny and heartbreaking months.
One was a tough 12-year-old. He walked with confidence, talked tough, presented himself as a boy that could take care of himself. He was used to fist fights, stealing, being chased by the gardaí on stolen mopeds, watching people do drug deals.
The same little boy sat on the couch beside me at night, watching television, and slowly moving closer and closer until he was almost on top of me. Gradually, his head would fall on to my shoulder and he would delicately move my arm around him. This tough kid was a little boy wanting to feel wanted, but didn’t know how to ask for a cuddle without looking weak.
Another 12-year-old had behavioural issues and an intellectual disability. One day I walked into the room to find he had plugged in and switched on every electrical appliance. All the lights were on, along with the hob and oven, food mixers and taps. Bread slices were in the microwave, the kettle was boiling, and he was spinning the fan-lights in the sitting-room ceiling.
He had wanted to make toast.
***
Our lives changed dramatically when we fostered. There were school runs, helping with homework, driving to drama classes, access visits (where a child meets their mother or father or grandparents for a few hours), and counselling sessions with a psychologist.
Patrick worked full-time and I remained at home caring for the child. Originally, I thought I would have some time to work at home, but the reality proved quite different. From early morning to bedtime was now filled with foster business.
Fostering makes you a parent, teacher, nurse, counsellor, mentor, playmate and friend – someone that absorbs all the chaos that is running riot in some little person’s head while trying to help them make sense of the mess in their lives. It took all our energy and life skills.
We have had what we consider three very successful years as foster carers, having had pint-sized people stress us out, challenge us to the hilt, worry us, and make us laugh and cry. We have been physically pushed to the limit and completely emotionally drained; yet we continue to want to care for these children.
Of all the children we cared for, not one cared if we were gay or straight. They just saw us as “Dave and Paddy” who cared for them.
This month, the HSE finally removed all restrictions on us. We are now classified as “general foster carers”.
Our battle is finally won.
