Turning a corner

I've mentioned before that our eldest child is disabled. He has a variety of disabilities that affect his sight, mobility and he has learning disabilities too. All in all he is a lovely boy (and this opinion is not just my own bias) who has amazed us with his tenacity and positive outlook.

Yesterday I had a real peek through a new window. When he was born the outlook was very gloomy. Apart from the acute shock of our first born being disabled, there was a great deal of mystery about what exactly was wrong with him and why this had happened. There had been absolutely no warning during the pregnancy. The first few months were a blur of travel to this hospital, that consultant, this clinic, that 'Team'. Though we were both strong for him and for each other, for nearly three years I couldn't talk about the actual birth without breaking down in tears. The fact that both partner and I had worked with people with learning disabilities somehow made it all worse and better; worse because we knew (or thought we did) the reality of raising a disabled child and all the difficulties that brings and better because we knew the system and knew the ropes and, boy, does that make a difference. I cannot imagine what it must be like to suddenly deliver a disabled child and have no experience of that world at all.

Occasionally we would receive comments from well-meaning nurses and doctors about how our professional experience meant we'd be OK but this was different. This wasn't work. We couldn't pack up and walk away at 5.pm. and go home. This was our life and our baby's life. Our professional experience, in that sense made no difference at all

The details of all the ins and outs of bringing up our son may be for another time, but last night I collected him from his regular Monday Youth Club and suddenly I saw we had turned a corner. There he was, spinning the decks in the 'disco room' and coming out the booth to dance round with his friends, having a sneaky kiss from his current girlfriend. He was happy. He was healthy, accepted, had friends and was confident. He was contributing to that circle of people and part of a community. He was wanted and appreciated. Suddenly, for a moment, all the hard work came together and all the concerns for his future evaporated and he was just a young boy enjoying himself with no self-conscious dilemmas or fears.

I'll treasure that moment as I treasure all the others in his sweet life. Despite all the cliches he really is a gift to us and is very precious.