Every morning at about 11:15am I glance at the clock and shout “oh shit, I’m going to be late for work!”, kiss Karin and Liam goodbye before hurrying out to the car leaving them to their daily routine. A daily routine that since I don’t witness I just assume includes lot’s and lot’s of playtime, naps and fun for them both while I slave away at the old salt mine. There must be helper elves or magical fairies getting all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, medical calls, Liam care and the other house stuff done, I don’t really know how that all works. The point is I’m not there, and so I know very well what it feels like to miss Liam. I do it every day.
Aside from a little joke in my last blog post I was very supportive and understanding of Karin’s feelings of loss and worry when she couldn’t follow her baby into his classroom at school last week. His first day in the full classroom setting with other children. I was understanding and supportive yet all the while thinking that I was immune to such feelings. After all, I left him behind to head out to work for nine hours every day I knew what missing the boy felt like, but only when I was the one doing the leaving.
PT/OT were fun for Liam this week. It was such a beautiful spring day that it was a no brainer that he would be spending it outside on the playground instead of inside on a padded mat. Their swing is different from ours but is supportive enough that he was able to swing a little bit, but it was much too soothing. He almost fell asleep. No, sleeping is not ideal when we’re trying to get him to work his core and head control so off to the big boy slide we went to really wake him up.
Scared the hell out of him, but as I may have mentioned before in other blogs fear shows an awareness to your surroundings and since he wasn’t in any real danger, a little scare can be a good thing. Got his heart rate up that’s for sure. By the time he reached the bottom though he had look of pleasure on his face and we sent him back down again three more times.
Can I just take second here to direct your attention to that picture again. See anything missing? Pretty cool huh?
Once back inside Liam participated in his playgroup which is always wonderful since Karin and I are allowed to help out with play group. Seeing other children take an interest in Liam warms my heart. We threw and rolled and kicked different colored balls all around the room for about a half an hour until the proverbial bell rang and it was time for Liam to head off to class.
I followed Liam, his speech therapist, and his nurse into the hall and it suddenly dawned on me that although doing it in a wheelchair and with the help of his nurse, Liam was essentially walking away from me to a place where I wasn’t allowed to follow. Instead of me saying goodbye on my way out to work, he was saying goodbye to me. I didn’t like that at all. I didn’t even know what to say. Sensing that I was about to say something, Liam’s nurse and therapist waited and looked at me, while keeping one hand on his stroller struggling to let it and him go.
“uh, . . . Uh, . . You be a good boy.” I found some words to fill the awkward silence and kissed the top of Liam’s head with Karin behind me probably grinning from ear to ear knowing that the heart ache and fear that I had given her such a hard time about last week had just washed over me. We walked to the couches at the front office while Liam and his crew headed down the hall in the other direction. Liam is in class for an hour (making all of this seem even more silly) so we waited by the front office with our kindles instead of leaving and picking him up.
“It’s hard watching him leave you like that isn’t it?” Karin asked me with a grin.
“It really is!” I gave her a hug and we sat together and read glancing down to the end of the hall toward the classroom between almost every word. Waiting for our baby boy to come back from his big boy classroom.