Tomorrow is Bella’s first day at BIG school. I’m excited for her and a little apprehensive maybe. I didn’t totally love school, so I hope she adores it. I’m not sad to be walking her (or driving if it’s chucking it down) to her first morning. I’m grateful.
We couldn’t be there for Freddie’s first day at school because he attends a Special Needs school. He has transport to take him there and bring him home. We missed his first morning. We didn’t get to walk him to the gate and hand him over safely to his teacher. We just had to hope everything would be ok. That was a great sadness.
So, as much as I can’t honestly believe my baby girls is so grown up and that I will have two children at school from tomorrow, I’m going to enjoy the drop off to make up for not being able to with Freddie.
She is going to rock it, I’m sure.
I’m also painfully aware that tomorrow brings the one year anniversary of RDs passing. His mummy won’t be taking him to school either. Big love to you ED. Wrapping my arms around you all. xx
A friend of mine, Sonia, (don’t kill me for mentioning you) adapted a poem, which she shared in one of our groups today. I wanted to share it with you.
Here is hoping everyones first week is a good week. x
No mother prays to deliver a child with special needs.
Just as nobody prays to die, so that they can be brought back to life with a bolt to the heart.
But, that is exactly what happens when you become the mom to a child with special needs…
a little piece of you dies, but your heart is re-born.
Any naivety left from your youth
The belief that bizarre and heartbreaking things only happen “to other people”
The notion that adults would never discriminate against a child
The concept that fighting for your child is something only needed in times of dire distress
The realization you will never have an “empty nest”
The fallacy that total relaxation actually exists
What is born?
A love like you’ve never experienced in your life
An inner strength you never knew you had
A voice deep in your gut you didn’t know was there — the voice of advocacy
Pure, unadulterated joy (reserved for milestones you never expected your child to meet)
Gratitude for what your child has and who he is, not what he lacks or who he is not
Thanks for people in your life who understand, encourage and embrace
Awe at the resiliency of your child
Respect for the kindness, compassion and protectiveness of your family.
A better you.