Every mother knows going back to work is an emotional minefield.
Few of us have the financial freedom – or indeed, the inclination – to stay at home for good. But what to do about childcare? Is what’s best for you what’s best for your baby? Often, it feels like there are no good options.
Certainly, I struggled over the decision of whether to send my own son, now nine, to nursery when I returned to work – something I was reminded of following the conviction of nursery worker Roksana Lecka last week for abusing 21 children at a nursery school in Twickenham.
Her story made my blood run cold in a way that was horrifyingly familiar – but not for the reasons you’d think. Because, back then, I chose to entrust my beloved child not to a nursery, but a nanny, believing this to be the gold-standard of childcare.
Yet she too demonstrated a despicable cruelty towards a child in her care that left me reeling.
Until my son turned two, I’d been able to rely on my parents for help. But now that I wanted to return to my career as a freelance graphic designer, I needed something more permanent.
My husband and I trawled the local nurseries but, while they all seemed lovely, most wanted at least a three-day-a-week commitment.
I was torn; my son still seemed so little, and I felt he’d benefit more from continued one-on-one care at home. And given I was only just returning to freelance work, that many nursery hours would be a financial stretch, even with my husband in full-time work.
I was naturally anxious about leaving my son with someone else, writes Elizabeth
Roksana Lecka, 22, was found guilty of 21 counts of child cruelty at Kingston Crown Court earlier this month
But, of course, if nursery was out of our budget, so too was a nanny. That was, until a friend I’d met at a baby-sensory class mentioned they were looking for a nanny-share two days a week.
Their nanny, Dawn, had been with them full-time since their daughter was nine months old. My friend adored Dawn, singing her praises about all the activities she took her daughter to, and the home-cooked food she made.
But, she told me, Dawn’s salary was around £35,000 a year, certainly a stretch, so finding another family who could do a nanny-share with them for at least two days a week would help them to continue to afford her.
Dawn was apparently really keen too – she’d be able to charge a little more to look after two children. If I entered the nanny-share, it would cost me £120 a week for two days.
I almost bit her hand off. My husband also agreed it was too good an opportunity to turn down. Dawn had impeccable references and several years childcare experience – in both a nursery and as a nanny – so we’d have the nurturing, home-based childcare we wanted. Dawn seemed like the answer to our prayers.
I met Dawn myself a few weeks later, taking my son along for a playdate. She seemed warm, confident and engaging. She immediately got down on the floor and started playing with him. She seemed kind, and when I anxiously explained his tricky nap routine, she took it in her stride, explaining that her years working in a nursery meant there wasn’t a sleep schedule she couldn’t crack. She seemed genuinely excited about looking after my son and embarking on the nanny-share.
Still, I asked my friend if – at least to start with – Dawn could conduct the nanny-share at my house on the days she’d be looking after both children, to give my son time to get used to the new set-up. It gave me peace of mind, because working from home meant I’d be able to keep an eye on things. Despite Dawn’s glowing references, I was naturally anxious about leaving my son with someone else.
But I needn’t have worried. Dawn took looking after both kids in her stride, playing with them in the garden and making healthy finger food lunches.
After a few weeks, my confidence in her grew and she started taking the kids out to stay-and-play groups. I really felt we’d landed on our feet; my son seemed happy, and I was thriving being back at work too. My husband and I even talked about the possibility of increasing our nanny-share days.
But, four months later, it all came crashing down.
The evening before one of our usual nanny share days, my friend rang. I could tell from her voice she was distraught. Eventually, through her choked sobs, I managed to make out the words: ‘We caught Dawn hitting our daughter.’
My heart was in my mouth, a mixture of disbelief, fear and guilt all at once. It was every mother’s worst fear, that someone they’d trusted had hurt their child. I felt sick.
Eventually, she calmed down enough to tell me exactly what had happened.
She explained that on two occasions in the fortnight prior, they’d noticed their daughter had a couple of red marks on her arms and legs. But when they’d asked Dawn how she’d got them, she’d been vague.
They’d been worried and, although they trusted Dawn, they wondered if their daughter wasn’t being supervised enough. Maybe she’d been falling over and Dawn hadn’t seen it happen? So, to put their minds at ease, they’d installed a ‘nanny cam’ in their daughter’s bedroom.
For a few days, they’d watched the footage on fast forward each evening and seen nothing.
But then, a few days before calling us, they’d watched as the footage showed Dawn smacking their daughter when she wouldn’t go down for a nap. It wasn’t a light tap either, but a proper smack across the back of the legs.
Devastated, they’d confronted Dawn when she’d arrived the next day. She’d apparently burst into tears and admitted she had been hitting their child, saying it had happened on three occasions. Apparently, she’d had a lot of stress in her personal life and was struggling to cope.
I was devastated for them, and so angry too that Dawn had abused their defenceless daughter. But above all, I was terrified; had she been doing the same to my son?
Our friend said she’d asked Dawn directly if she’d ever hit my boy, but Dawn insisted she hadn’t.
I’d like to say I was relieved. But I wasn’t; although I’d never noticed any unexplained marks on my son, or seen Dawn mistreat him, I couldn’t get rid of the niggling doubt she could have hurt him too and I’d be none the wiser.
My husband and I were in pieces. I told our friend I was ending the nanny-share with immediate effect.
I was angry, too, they hadn’t flagged up their concerns about Dawn earlier. They’d clearly been worried enough to install a nanny cam. Why hadn’t they told me then? Didn’t they think I had a right to know what might be happening to my son as much as they did their daughter? And why had they waited until days after discovering the abuse to tell me?
I told my friend I hoped they’d press charges. But what she said me next shocked me; although they’d terminated their contract with Dawn, they’d decided not take the matter further.
I insisted that, at the very least, they needed to flag their concerns with Ofsted – because if they didn’t, there was nothing to stop Dawn hurting other children elsewhere.
But my friend explained they felt sorry for Dawn, that she’d been struggling and they didn’t want to ruin her career. I was furious; no matter how much stress Dawn was under, it was no excuse.
I wondered if I should report Dawn myself – but given I had no evidence apart from what my friend had told me, I wasn’t sure my concerns would be taken seriously, particularly if she wasn’t prepared to speak out.
With Dawn fired, the immediate threat to my son’s safety was removed. But for months I was racked with guilt, wondering if I’d missed something. I analysed every interaction Dawn had had with my son, wondering if there had been a flashpoint and she’d lashed out at him. My son had never seemed unhappy or nervous around her, but he was only two – how would I ever really know if I’d missed the signs?
It took me a long time to trust anyone to look after him again, and I took a few months off work so I could care for him full-time.
Eventually, when he was three, we found a place for him at a lovely nursery. I felt that at least in a well-staffed setting if there was any mistreatment, it would be more likely to be picked up. But still, I was anxious; as the Roksana Lecka court case shows, child abuse can happen anywhere, even in a nursery with CCTV.
Entrusting your child to someone else’s care is one of the biggest leaps of faith you ever take – and I learnt the hard way that the only person you can truly trust them with is yourself.
Elizabeth Roberts is a pseudonym. Names have been changed
