Published: 18 February 2026. The English Chronicle Desk. The English Chronicle Online
For many adoptive parents, the joy of welcoming a child into their family can become overshadowed by the realities that follow — especially when children come with deep trauma from severe neglect or abuse. One adoptive mother from north Wales, identified only as Anna to protect her daughter’s privacy, says her life “has been lived in crisis” for more than 15 years as she struggled to cope with her child’s complex needs. Her story, shared in a BBC report this week, has shone a spotlight on a growing crisis in the UK’s adoption and post‑adoption support system — one that cost her not just her career and her marriage, but her physical and mental wellbeing, too.
Anna’s daughter was taken into care after suffering severe early‑life trauma, and she and her partner adopted her when she was young. At first, they believed they could offer healing and stability — but they were unprepared for the extent of her behavioural and emotional needs, which include autism with a Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA) profile. Anna says her daughter has been physically aggressive at times, leaving the family constantly alert, exhausted and unable to find peace at home.
Despite their commitment and love for their child — “we do have some lovely, connected moments,” she says — the pressures became overwhelming. Professionals often focused on whether parental discipline was “good enough,” rather than offering meaningful support tailored to the child’s trauma history, leaving Anna feeling blamed and isolated. Many families like hers end up spiralling without the help they desperately need, told repeatedly to “just get on with it” while deliberate, trauma‑responsive support remains scarce.
For Anna, the personal cost was profound. Years of fighting for appropriate therapeutic help affected her employment; time off work became more frequent, and she eventually had to give up her career. Her relationship also suffered under the weight of constant crisis management, ultimately leading to its breakdown. This personal and economic toll is echoed in growing calls across the UK from adoptive parents and campaign groups for systemic reform to the post‑adoption support framework.
Experts warn that adoption breakdown — when an adoptive placement fails and a child returns to care or is moved elsewhere — is the tip of a deeper problem: inconsistent support and scarce specialist resources for families caring for traumatised children. Local authorities and adoption agencies do not always collect clear or consistent data, making it difficult to understand the scale of breakdowns or plan effective interventions. Advocates argue this data gap means many families “fall through the cracks” and that the true size of the issue is likely much larger than official figures suggest.
Crucially, many adoptive families say that training and support offered at the time of placement is simply not enough preparation for the reality of parenting children with complex attachments, behavioural challenges or neurodivergent profiles. Adoptive children are far more likely than typical children to have experienced early trauma, which affects everything from emotional regulation to trust, learning and relationships. Without tailored interventions — such as trauma‑informed therapy, respite care, specialist schooling support and urgent mental health services — parents describe feeling abandoned by a system that initially praised them for “saving a child.”
Anna is far from alone in her experience. Across the UK, many adoptive parents report similar struggles with access to meaningful help decades after adoption took place. Childhood trauma, attachment disorder and sensory processing challenges can persist and even worsen without the right therapeutic framework, meaning parents often become informal caregivers for children with needs equating to severe disability — yet without comparable support.
Some professionals and campaign groups argue that UK adoption policy is built on an outdated assumption that love alone will heal trauma, leaving behind critical questions about how to support families after placement. They call instead for a trauma‑responsive, recovery‑focused model of care that acknowledges the long‑term impacts of early life experiences, including neglect, abuse and separation from birth families.
There are organisations in the UK, such as PAC‑UK and Adoption England, that provide post‑adoption counselling and peer support. These services aim to give adoptive parents a space to share experiences and access specialised guidance — but waiting lists are long, funding is limited, and many families still struggle to gain access at the most critical moments. With demand rising, supporters of reform argue that provision must be expanded, properly funded and integrated into statutory services to prevent further breakdowns and to protect the wellbeing of both parents and children.
Anna’s story has struck a chord with many across social media and advocacy circles, not just for the personal heartbreak but for what it reveals about a system that too often celebrates the adoption moment without investing in what comes next. For these families, the journey does not end at placement — it often marks the beginning of a long, complex and under‑resourced phase of care that tests resilience, community support and public services.
As policymakers, families and child welfare specialists grapple with these issues, there is increasing urgency for reforms that go beyond recruitment and matching of adoptive parents to address the post‑placement realities of trauma, behavioural complexity and mental health support. For Anna, the impact of these failures will stay with her for a lifetime — a stark reminder that adoption breakdown is not just a statistic, but a deeply human crisis.


























































































