…if an era can be ten weeks.
I’m en route to my Thursday morning group therapy session. It’s a ‘keeping well post birth’ group so the ladies are there for lots of different reasons. No one has a disabled child, but it’s amazing how many of our thoughts and troubles are the same.
The day of the first session I had just been given Ted’s diagnosis. A therapy session was exactly where I needed to be but where I *wanted* to be sucked into a black hole so I didn’t have to deal with everything.
I vividly remember leaving him in the crèche – I think the child minders mistook my tears for those of a first time mum who couldn’t bear to leave her child. Harsh though it sounds, I was actually thinking that I wish I didn’t have a child to leave with them.
My immediate reaction to his dx was that he would be better off dead. Who wants their child to have a life sentence of severe physical disability and mental retardation? If they hadn’t saved him, we would be hurting like hell but time would heal us. Trite but true, no?
What a difference a couple of months makes. On this sunny hint-of-spring morning, I really can judge how far Ted and I have come since January.
He’s calmed down a fair bit, although a lot of his days are still filled with crying. I’m happy to say that mine aren’t any more. I have my down days, of course, but there are more good than bad.
Ted’s put on weight, he smiles and ‘chats’ and wants you to play with him, he’s learned to relax for massage and even started laughing. And thanks to Thursday mornings, so have I. But more importantly I know I would never be without him. Funny button that he is, he’s my funny button and I’ll love him till the end whatever his bloody IQ is.
No, it’s not your imagination. This post IS going up almost a week late. I wrote it on the bus on the way to group but didn’t have time to press send. And despite running off to mum and dad’s for some respite, it’s taken me almost seven days to come back to the blog. I’ve got so much to say so I hope I get some more computer time this week