Adopting a Toddler in the UK: Our First Week Together - Love Beyond Biology: Our UK Adoption & Parenthood Journey

We woke up one morning with a toddler. It sounds surreal even now. One day we were a couple, the next we were parents, after adopting a toddler in the UK. There was no labour or gradual build up, just the thundering arrival of a beautiful, bewildered, and strong-willed little girl named Willow. It was bizarre, joyful, eye-opening, beautiful, and, if I’m completely honest, utterly terrifying.

We knew this was coming. We had prepped, read books, taken courses, spoken to other adopters, bought tiny clothes and endless plastic dishes, safety-proofed every corner of our home, and painted her room in soft pastels- we had a plan. Or at least, we thought we did. But none of that could have prepared us for the emotional whiplash of the first week. If you’re just starting this journey, I’d recommend checking out Top 10 Adoption Books for Prospective Adopters and Adoptive Parents — these books helped shape how we prepared emotionally and practically for what was to come.

This is a reflection on that week. What we expected, what completely blindsided us, and why we’re so deeply grateful for every tear, tantrum, and tender moment.

Day One: The First Morning

We didn’t sleep much that first night. I lay there, rigid, ears straining for the monitor. What if she wakes up and doesn’t know where she is? If she cries and I don’t hear her? What if she’s frightened and thinks we’ve left her? At one point, I crept to her door and just sat there. Listening. Holding my breath.

Despite the exhaustion, we both leapt out of bed when we heard her babbling, her voice still new to our ears. She was standing up in her cot, clutching her blanket, ready to start the day. We both wanted to get her up, we couldn’t decide, so went in together.

That first cuddle, with her still a bit sleepy, curled into me with her bottle, was magic. It was the only time of the day she would sit still, nestled in that space between night and morning. A sacred ten minutes. I often found myself blinking back tears during those moments—not from exhaustion, although that was real, but from the sheer weight of emotion. Gratitude. Wonder. Love.

But don’t get me wrong, she could go from serene to screaming in half a second. That was our first real lesson: toddlers are emotional rollercoasters. And when your toddler has just been placed with you after a lifetime of change, upheaval, and loss, the highs and lows are even more extreme. The enormity of it all was just beginning to land. Within grabbing distance at all times is The A-Z of Therapeutic Parenting, It’s a practical guide packed with go-to advice for everyday behavioural challenges in adoptive and foster families.

The Bubble Period

In the world of adoption, they talk about the early days, the settling-in phase, the honeymoon phase– but for us, it was the bubble. We shut the world out almost entirely. No visitors, trips to soft play, popping to the shops or going out for a family lunch. Just the three of us, getting to know one another in the quiet chaos of our own home.

We were intentional about it. We wanted to create a space where Willow could begin to feel safe – to learn who we were, and for us to learn more about her. Her cues. Her habits. What made her laugh. What soothed her.

Routine was our anchor. Meals at the same time. The same songs before bed. Naps in the same cot with the same blanket. Baths with the same silly splash game. Even breakfast was structured. Every morning I read a meditation from 100 Mindfulness Meditations by Neil Seligman, not just for myself, but because being present and grounded felt like my biggest parenting tool.

At first, I found the repetition draining. But then I realised– this was her map. A way for her to understand that, for once, the ground wasn’t going to shift underneath her. So we kept at it, even when it was mind-numbing, because for her, it was gold dust.

There was something oddly lovely about being in that bubble. It was intense and emotional and yes, we were climbing the walls at times – but we were cocooned. The outside world could wait. This was our time to begin.

This intense early stage reminded us so much of our emotional build-up before placement. If you’re preparing right now, How We Prepared for Adoption Panel might be helpful. It shows how even in the waiting, you’re already becoming.

Expectations vs Reality

One of the most challenging parts of adopting is how quickly you have to become emotionally available. We expected tiredness. And we got it, tenfold. Not just from early mornings and broken nights, but from the emotional labour of it all. Every decision felt monumental. Every meltdown – hers or ours – carried weight.

We expected clinginess. We’d read about attachment and how important it is in the early days to stay physically and emotionally close. What we didn’t expect was how much she would test our love. The small acts of defiance weren’t mischief. They were questions in disguise: Will you still love me if I throw this? If I scream at you? If I push you away?

Every meltdown was a test of security. And every time we responded with calm, with consistency, with love—we passed. Not perfectly. But we kept showing up, again and again, because that’s what she needed. What we all needed.

We expected joy, and oh my, there was joy. When she laughed, it lit up the room. When she reached for our hands, we felt like we’d won the lottery. The first time she called me “Mama” without hesitation, I had to turn away so she wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes.

Little Victories

We celebrated the tiniest wins. She held my hand without prompting. Asked for a cuddle. Let us brush her teeth. These may seem small, but to us, they were monumental.

She also started to test boundaries, which felt frustrating—but it meant she felt safe enough to push. That’s what secure children do. And while we had to stay consistent, inside we celebrated those moments, because it meant we were becoming her people.

Sleep was one of those small victories we held onto. The first few nights were filled with wake-ups and unsettled moments, but gradually, she began to settle more quickly and sleep longer. Our bedtime routine became a cornerstone of comfort: the same bath, same time, the same story. These little cues made a big difference, gently signalling that she was safe now, and sleep could be trusted.

The Hardest Moment

The hardest moment came five days in. A full-scale meltdown, the kind where she couldn’t even catch her breath. I held her as she kicked and screamed. I whispered to her. You’re safe. We’re not going anywhere. I’ve got you. And eventually, she let go. Her whole body slumped into mine and we sat there, on the floor.

It was messy. Unscripted. But it felt like a turning point.

It felt like the moment she began to let go. Just a little. Just enough to rest. I realised just how far we’d come in such a short space of time. We weren’t strangers anymore. We were beginning to belong to each other.

The Most Beautiful Surprise

What we didn’t expect was how quickly she changed us. How quickly she made us soften. Laugh. Prioritise what mattered. She made us a family. Not in the romanticised way I’d imagined—but in a real, raw, beautiful way that came from weathering the storm together. I wrote more about this transformation in Why We Chose Adoption – Love Without Limits.

We also didn’t expect how fiercely protective we’d feel. How immediate and primal the love was. It wasn’t always easy, but it was always there. And it grew stronger with each day.

Gratitude

The support we received while adopting made all the difference. Despite the chaos, we are so grateful for that first week. We saw her bravery up close. We witnessed the resilience it takes for a child to leave behind everything familiar and begin again with strangers. She didn’t choose this, and yet, she chose to let us in. Slowly. Carefully. And with each small step, we became more than just caregivers. We became hers.

We are grateful for the professionals who prepared us, for the social workers who matched us, for the training that taught us to pause before reacting, for her amazing foster carers who made the transitions so smooth, for charities and organisations that offer support—like You Can Adopt, Adoption UK, and Coram.

and most of all—for Willow. For her light, her spirit, her strength.

One Week In

Seven days. That’s all it was. But in that time, we became something new. Not polished, not perfect – but real.

One week as a family of three, and the world looked different. We were exhausted, overwhelmed, deeply unsure – but we were in it. Fully. Present. Committed.

Our daughter, Willow, had arrived with her personality fully formed. She was bold, bright, beautiful – and completely bewildered. And so were we, in our own way.

The journey ahead is still unfolding. There will be more testing, more learning, more laughter and tears. But if that first week taught us anything, it’s this: connection doesn’t come from grand gestures. It comes from being there – again and again – in the quiet, messy, beautiful middle of it all.

And that’s exactly where we want to be.

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Adopting in the UK: A Life-Changing First Week