The doctor lets him play, draw, tries to communicate with him. Most of the time, around two hours, he interviews us: about the pregnancy, about his sisters, about his progress, what he is capable of doing and what he is not, and we begin to understand what is missing in our interaction with him. For a moment it seems as though with each baby we start our parenthood anew. The development stages of each baby are not easily remembered, however when the mind finds it hard to remember, gut-feeling takes care to remind us.
We reach the bottom line. Our son, this innocent fledgling who is now quietly engaged with his toy, who never caused any harm to anyone, is outside of the normative scale. Someone had decided to “play rough” with this fragile and pure soul, by loading onto his tiny shoulders an almost impossible task, without the proper means to face it. We are now facing the pain and the need to cope with it. I don’t remember either of us being shocked, but walking silently to the car we weren’t able to utter a word, each trying to digest the news. We did not know how to console one another.
I was due to return to my studies. I sat in the car for a few minutes looking around. Everything goes on just as usual, no one realizes what had just hit me. I was with myself, thinking of the management of this new project: what should we do, whom do we turn to, the need to allocate a budget, find instructors, look for a suitable place and care, understand what our rights are, cost versus benefit, priorities, and God only knows what we should give up. There is no time, we must start working on this, that’s what the doctor said, the earlier you start the better the results would be. There is no recovery, but only improvement and living with it. But why did it happen? How did it happen? It certainly was not a part of my plans. Everything should now be changed. What do I say to his sisters, and when? What do I say to the family? To friends? It is still at a stage that cannot be shared with others, since I myself do not really understand.
I was drained out. My eyes are dry, without even one tear drop, for some reason I could not cry. I start my way towards the university. I enter the big classroom, looking at all the joyful students and deciding not to give it another thought until I get back home. The studies were a haven of sanity at this shaking moment, and I had no intention to give it up. I need more time for myself to think it over, to calm down, to be in focus. I realize that me and him form a connection that will not end; that even if I will want to let it go, I will not be able to. He will not be able to. We are linked to him for many more years to come. I decide to focus on the good sides of this new reality, as I understand that I will not be able to survive otherwise. The key word here is acceptance. There is no other way to move ahead.
