I was a teenager out with friends when my mum went back to work. The times that she was late home because of an emergency had less of an impact on me in the moment. For my youngest sibling, who was 6 when mum returned to work, it was completely different. Those moments referred to in the article were her experience; being picked up late from the childminder (also a family friend), missing out on Brownies, having someone to check in with after school, knowing your parent is the reliable person in your life. We would have weekends interrupted with placement breakdowns one weekend in six. It’s gone on to shape how she views her own value and needs.

This whole area was part of my thinking when we decided to try and have a family. I knew what the children on my caseload needed and how much of an impact it could have on personal plans. I am passionate about being a social worker in children’s services and I miss direct practice but, for my own child, I will not be following the same path. For the time being I am now in a role that is more supervisory and does not deal with emergencies.

We too understood at the time when mum explained why she would be late. We had also been a fostering family and knew that there were children who weren’t safe. Those children are part of our family with one very much a daily part of our lives. Absolutely none of that though takes away that moment when you suddenly feel that you matter less to your own parent than another child. We cannot replace the parents of children open to social care, we cannot fill that gap and I have come to the conclusion we should not try at the expense of our own children. You do not know what your child is keeping from you to try and protect you, especially if your own child is sensitive and reflective. So, whilst I have the financial security to be able to make this choice (and I recognise the privilege in that statement), I will not be doing front line safeguarding work until my son is much older. I would rather leave the profession for a while and have more regular hours. 25 years on, it still hurts a bit even though I know she never meant it that way. We mustn’t kid ourselves that our own kids don’t mind.