It was a winter’s afternoon when I returned to a shabby block of flats to see two children who had been on my mind all week. Neither of them had been given access to health visitors or GP services since moving out of temporary accommodation and they hadn’t been seen by a health professional for some time.
On my previous visit I’d been concerned. The flat was dirty, it was cluttered with cans and the air was thick with smoke. The father appeared agitated by my presence and only spoke to me via his partner. The mother, who was very young, seemed frightened and was also skeptical about the reason for my visit.
I felt anxious knocking the door upon my return. It was before the days of mobile phones and lone worker policies. No one knew my whereabouts and the prospect of a cup of tea in the office seemed a much better option.
When I knocked the young mum flung the door open almost immediately. She was wide eyed and her speech slurred. Despite her reluctance to trust me on my previous visit, she practically threw herself at me saying: “Thank God you’ve come. He’s dropped the baby”.
The flat was in the same state as when I left weeks before. The toddler peeped out from behind his mother as she gestured to the bedroom where the baby lay in her cot. The light was poor and the baby was pale and still. I was almost afraid to touch her as I feared the worst. She stirred and I gently picked her up; she was cold but responsive. I took her back into the living room where her mother and sibling sat waiting. There was no food in the flat and the utilities had been cut off earlier that day.
I didn’t know where the baby’s father was. I felt sick with fear until I learnt he had left the property in an ambulance following an overdose earlier that day. It was clear that poverty, drug use and domestic violence was more of a problem in this family than I had ever realised.
I knocked on a neighbour’s door as there was no phone at the property and called the police and social services. There was no question in my mind these children needed immediate help and protection. I later learned that they were taken into temporary foster care.
I learned a lot that day as an inexperienced health visitor. I learnt to trust my instincts.
From that point in my 26-year-career, I tried to always view the situation through the eyes of the child. What must those children have been experiencing on a day-to-day basis? And what could have happened if things hadn’t taken a different route?
What I also see is a definite shift in society’s attitude and a change in health and social work practice. I used to go into homes where you could barely locate the crib because the smoke was so thick. Drug use around children was seen as undesirable rather than unacceptable. Domestic violence was not really defined as a major problem as long as the kids weren’t physically hurt. We now know so much more about the emotional harm to children caused by the toxic trio of drug misuse, domestic violence and poor mental health .
Thankfully child protection agencies stand united in trying to raise the awareness with families of the need to protect their developing children from the traumatic fallout from these situations.
I still work as a health visitor but now in a community-based project. I know my families well. I have a good relationship with most and they access the services to enhance their children’s health and development from pre-birth. We promote peer support in postnatal groups and parenting programmes that give people tools to become better parents.
Sometimes things do go wrong in families and through poverty, poor mental health and lifestyle choices people become marginalised and their children become vulnerable. Often these are the children of the generation I once visited where needs were so much less understood. I hope through better understanding, improved professional practice and knowledge of the community, I never have to walk into such a sad and frightening situation again.
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