There are no gunpowder, treasons, or plots here. Just a little thing called decannulation. That’s right, kids. A year ago, Namine got rid of her trach, and her entire world changed.
I’ve seen quite a bit lately on Twitter about grieving your child’s special needs. Most often, this applies to autistic kids (kids with autism? I won’t get into a semantic debate with anyone), but it also pertains, really, to any disability – whether “visible” or “invisible.” And I think it’s a load of crap.
This morning a physical therapist came to the apartment to evaluate Namine. But this was no ordinary PT – if there is such a thing – this was a PT from the school district. She was there to examine Namine in order to determine what kind of therapy she might need when she starts attending school. Things like her preferred method of locomotion, level of toilet training, gross and fine motor skills, listening skills, and cognitive ability.
Sometimes we find ourselves pining for something lost, perhaps for something that never even was. It sneaks up on us, Jessica and I, and suddenly we realize that Namine is almost three years old. She is moving, she talking, she is more independent every day. Where is our little baby girl? She’s still small – she’ll always be small – but she’s not small anymore. She doesn’t have a baby face anymore; she has a grown up face, so it seems to us. Can’t we have our baby back?
I was going to post a bunch of pictures today and talk about my wonderful Father’s Day with my family, but that’s getting put on hold for a day. I might get around to it tonight even, but I want to talk about something more pressing on my mind than a good ol’ time. I’m going to talk about something uncomfortable. If you get offended, I’m sorry, but it must be said. I only ask that if you keep on reading, hear me out and give it some thought.
Tomorrow Jessica and I are going to be helping out our friend and neighbor Leah with the kids’ area at Polish Fest, down at the Summerfest grounds. We’ll be helping to set up the games and prizes, and assisting with running the games, crafts, and activities. This will be our second year helping out, and we’re really looking forward to it because we had a blast last year.
In following with the doctor’s permission to let Namine scoot around, scoot she did. And scoot, and scoot, and scoot. By bedtime, she was cranky – not so much because it was bedtime, I think, but because she was in pain. She is still in recovery, after all, and she still needs to take it easy. A little Motrin helped, and she fell asleep with relative ease.