In 10 Things Every Foster Child Wishes You Knew, author Rowan Aderyn bridges the gap between the lived experience of a child in care and the insight of an adult who has been through it.
Here, the award-winning change-maker, poet, and storyteller offers a glimpse into the inner world of a child navigating the care system, sharing the hopes, fears, and challenges many children in care struggle to put into words.
Q: Why did you feel it was important to write this book?
A: When I was in primary school, my world was crumbling around me, yet I couldn’t find the words to explain what was happening. As an eight-year-old, I didn’t know terms like suicide, abuse, or self-harm, but that didn’t stop me from experiencing them. The fear was overwhelming, but I couldn’t describe it, let alone ask for help.
Now, as an adult, I can reflect on that time with greater understanding. I can articulate what I needed back then and why. Writing 10 Things Every Foster Child Wishes You Knew felt important because it bridges that gap – between the experiences of a child in care and the insight of an adult who has lived through it.
Children in care often don’t yet have the experience, vocabulary, or confidence to tell us what they need. This book is my way of giving voice to those unspoken struggles, helping foster carers and professionals understand what children in their care might not be able to say.
Q: How can we recognise that a child is asking for help without actually saying it?
A: We all communicate in more ways than just words. It’s not just about what is said, but how it’s said – and often, what isn’t said at all. Behaviour is one of the biggest communicators, especially for children who may not have the words to express their feelings.
If you sense that something is being left unsaid, be curious. Look beyond the surface. Create space and time for conversations to unfold naturally. And most importantly, don’t expect a child to have all the answers or be able to explain their feelings the first time you ask. Open the door – and keep opening it.
I remember my first day in care. I sat in silence for hours at the kitchen table while my foster mum unpacked the shopping, baked cakes, and gently tried to include me. Each time she asked if I wanted a drink or to help, I simply shook my head. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t pressure me, nor did she demand an explanation for my silence. Instead, she patiently kept offering me ways to step away from my fear – until, eventually, I did.
Sometimes, a child’s cry for help is silence. Sometimes, it’s anger, defiance, or unexpected behaviour. Many children in care don’t yet have the skills or confidence to articulate what they need. More often than not, they won’t tell us they need help – they will show us. It’s up to us to listen, to notice, and to respond with patience and understanding.
Q: How might a child’s outward behaviour differ from their inner emotions?
A: When I was in care, I was often seen as a confident child. I would get up on stage and sing in the choir, play sports, and had even been promoted to the rank of corporal in the Air Training Corps. On the surface, I appeared outgoing, capable, and engaged.
But beneath that, I was constantly afraid – not just of things like standing on a stage, but of almost everything. I was afraid to go to sleep, afraid of upsetting anyone, afraid of making mistakes, afraid of being moved to another family, afraid of going home, afraid of getting ill. The list was endless. My drive to achieve – to be an A* student, to be well-behaved, to always say and do the right thing – wasn’t confidence. It was survival.
In my experience, children in care often display behaviours that seem to contradict how they actually feel. Sometimes, the way they act is the opposite of what they truly need. For example:
- I am lonely, yet I push people away because I’m afraid they’ll leave me. The pain of being abandoned again feels worse than standing alone.
- I am terrified of my emotions, but showing fear makes me vulnerable – so I lash out in anger. I fight before the fight has even begun.
Even as an adult, I still struggle at times to understand, define, and regulate my emotions. I work hard to respond to them in a healthier way, but it takes effort. Behaviour is a complex mix of the actions we take and how those actions are interpreted by others.
This is why we must be careful not to make assumptions about a child’s behaviour. What we see on the surface doesn’t always reflect the true root cause. If a behaviour is unhelpful or persistent, it’s worth exploring what’s really driving it. Only then can we find the best way to support and help them heal.
Q: Independence and resilience are often regarded as positive traits – what is the impact of having to develop these at a young age?
A: One of the hardest things about being forced to develop independence and resilience as a child is that you don’t learn the balance of dependence and recovery. I powered through the first 30 years of my life, believing I had to handle everything alone. Then, almost overnight, following an accident where I suffered severe burns, I crumbled.
I didn’t know how to depend on anyone else. I had no proactive strategies for recovery, no concept of self-care. I had spent my whole life surviving, pushing forward, and figuring things out on my own – but when I finally needed help, I didn’t know how to ask for it.
Most children learn these skills the other way around. They first trust others to care for them, learning that they don’t have to do everything alone. They develop the understanding that if they fall, someone will catch them. But for many children in care, we never learn those foundational skills. And once you’ve developed fierce independence, it is incredibly difficult to work backwards.
The other danger of early independence is that it limits growth. To develop new skills, take risks, and challenge ourselves, we need an environment where we can experiment and fail – knowing that failure won’t endanger our survival. We need to be able to make mistakes, to say and do the wrong thing, and to have a safety net to support us and help us learn.
There’s a dangerous assumption that independence automatically leads to success. But independence is only empowering when there is room for growth. True resilience isn’t about standing alone – it’s about knowing when you can stand alone and when you don’t have to.
Q: How does a sense of belonging shape self-worth, and how can we help children in care feel worthy of love and belonging – and help them to build their self-esteem?
A: At our very core, we are pack animals. If we are cast out of our communities, we don’t just face greater risks from the world – we lose our sense of safety, identity, and belonging. We develop our sense of self by recognising parts of ourselves reflected in others. But true belonging isn’t possible unless we first understand ourselves and have a sense of self-worth. Without that foundation, we become vulnerable to those who might take advantage of us.
We can help children in care feel worthy of love by first supporting them in learning to love themselves. This means recognising and nurturing the things that make them uniquely them – and helping them feel proud of those qualities.
Belonging isn’t just about home – it’s about finding a community. We can help children in care build these connections through sports, religion, hobbies, or shared interests. We can encourage relationships with adults outside of their immediate circle, creating a strong network that can withstand change and provide guidance through life’s complexities.
Self-esteem isn’t just about feeling good – it’s about doing things that prove to a child they are capable. One of the best ways to build confidence is through challenge. When children push past their own perceived limits, they begin to believe in their abilities.
Q: You’ve said that as a child in care, you never dared to dream of the future you have now. What do you think made the biggest difference in helping you get here?
A: I am so incredibly blessed in my life today. I have a little family of my own, two daughters who are a dream to love and care for, and a partner of almost two decades who has taught me that I am worthy of love. I have a job I adore, where I spend my days working through complex problems and building understanding.
I would never have found this life without the kindness, courage, and actions of others. It was never one big thing that saved me. It wasn’t a perfect foster care journey, or a flawless career path. It was the hundreds of small actions – of people advocating for me, supporting me, and loving me – that made the difference.
Foster care undoubtedly saved my life, but it was the kindness of so many that gave me a life worth saving. All too often, we look for grand gestures to change someone’s world. But in reality, it’s the messy, small, and continued actions of those who care that form the foundation of every life worth saving.
This life is more than I ever dreamed of, and it is because of people like you – the ones who read articles like these, who care, who take action – that I get to know what happiness truly is. For that, I am truly grateful.
