The following is taken from a speech given by our founder Anna Wigley at the Houses of Parliament in February 2026, as part of the #ValueOurLove campaign reception for Kinship - the leading kinship care charity in England and Wales.

"My name is Anna and I’m sharing my story not just for myself - but for kinship carers across the country who step in every day to protect children, often at great personal cost.

Our journey didn’t start with a plan, but with a phone call one Friday afternoon in 2018. I had just finished work when a social worker told me that if I didn’t get to the other side of London immediately, our grandchildren would be placed into care by the end of the school day.

There was no time to think. We got in the car.

Our three grandchildren then aged four, three, and two, walked through our door with nothing but the clothes they were wearing. The next day we were out buying clothes, blankets and everything three small children needed. I cried the whole way around the shops while my husband was trying to hold it together. We were lucky — we had savings and credit cards. Many kinship carers don’t and begin their journey already in crisis.

At the time we lived in a two-bedroom house with our own children. Our son was eleven and had just started secondary school. Our daughter was nineteen, working and happily living at home.

Suddenly there were seven people in a two-bedroom home. My husband and I bought a sofa bed and that is where we slept with the little ones. Then we were told our daughter had to move out so the grandchildren could have space. She moved out immediately, terrified we would lose them. We were told housing support would come, but it never did, and she spent years sofa surfing.

At the same time, I was an Ofsted-registered childminder with a GOOD rating. I had spent six years building my business, employing staff, supporting families, and working in our community - I had a network of childminders who offered to help me so I could keep working but I was told I had to stop. I begged for a year to try and make it work. The answer was no. I was told if I didn’t give up work, the children might be placed into foster care or adoption.

Overnight, my business, my income and the jobs I had created were gone. From that point on, I became a full-time kinship foster carer — attending meetings, school reviews, health appointments, and constant assessments while caring for three traumatised children under five. Two of them are neurodivergent — one with ADHD and one with autism. Even with my 15 years’ experience supporting children with additional needs in schools, it still took years for anyone to listen and their needs to be properly recognised.

Housing became another battle. We were told to move away from the area where our family had lived all our lives. We were warned the children could be removed if we did not. We refused — this was their family and their roots. We approached both local authorities for rehousing help. Both told us we had made ourselves intentionally overcrowded and we didn’t have to take the children, so they would not help. For six years, three children shared one small bedroom while we fought to extend our home — the simplest and cheapest solution. A judge eventually agreed with us, and five days before Christmas 2024 we finally moved into a home with enough space for every child.

Financially, everything was a fight. Payments were late, incorrect or missing. After four years, and an official complaint to the ombudsman, the authority accepted we should have been paid correctly from the start.

And that is the pattern.

Getting therapeutic support is a fight.

Getting financial support is a fight.

Getting safe housing is a fight.

We do this out of love. But how long are families expected to keep fighting?

For three years I struggled just to breathe. Then I realised we couldn’t be the only ones. So, I opened a peer support group in Southwest London. At first, I sat alone. Then one family came, then more, and soon carers were coming from across London. That group changed lives — including mine. I’m proud to be a Peer Support Group Leader and to play my part in helping families just like mine feel less alone, and to walk into a room of people who understand – the highs, the lows, the ups, the downs. The fact we would do anything for our kinship children. And even in a few years, I’ve seen the positive shifts towards change. More peer support groups in the national peer support network, groups for male kinship carers, groups to explore cultural heritage, to support younger kinship carers. I’ve been along to Kinship’s Roadshows as part of its National Training and Support Service and seen the power of these sessions in connecting kinship carers and empowering them with knowledge and crucial information.

Kinship care has risen up the political agenda, and it’s widely acknowledged that kinship families should be better recognised, valued, and supported.

Like other kinship carers, I am passionate about raising awareness among social workers, school staff, health service staff and other professionals, because too often people do not even know who we are. I want them to see kinship families and help signpost us to the support we need.

Kinship carers step in to keep children safe and families together — but we cannot do it alone.

Today, our family is stable. My oldest grandchild is thriving at secondary school. The other dreams of being a chef, and the youngest fills our home with laughter. My son is now at university, and my daughter is settled with her own family. My husband and I are still standing and stronger than we thought possible. We are a family because we were determined — but also because support eventually came. Many families never reach that point.

Government can play its part providing an entitlement to paid leave in the Parental Leave Review and ensuring kinship families and children can access the right financial, practical and therapeutic support at the right time.

Employers can play their part through flexibility and understanding and becoming a Kinship Friendly Employer.

Local authorities can play their part through timely, reliable support, with the child’s needs front and centre.

And charities and communities can play their part by making sure no kinship carer feels invisible and providing the vital services to enable connection."

Many professionals don't know what kinship care is. That is exactly why I started Kinship Circles Training. I could see that teachers, health care workers, and front-line staff often want to help, but don't have the understanding or training around kinship care. The business was created to offer training shaped by lived experience, so that the people supporting our children truly understand the complexity, the trauma, and the strength within kinship families. I can't change how our journey began, but I can help change how the next family is supported.

Because when kinship carers are supported, children don’t just survive — they thrive. Families stay together, and society is stronger for it.