One of things that has happened in the last little while is that Mikaere has started going to school a handful of mornings a week.
This is a huge change for everyone, and I desperately wish it hadn’t happened in covid times when weighing up risk and quality of life didn’t feel so dire. But, this has been in the works for 2.5 years, delayed in part by covid (in part by a really rubbish SNAS team – the special needs assessment service, I wish they would just used the word disabled, all children have needs, you know?)
So, knowing that the school gets it, they’re full of vulnerable children with complex medical needs too (some even more so than Mikaere), and there are risk assessments and policies in place – it’s possibly the safest place, other than home, he could be right now. Plus, he loves it.
Right now we’re working on building relationships, between them and us, so they can get to know Kai and his quirks.
Let’s be clear though, my mama heart hates this. After being told NKH is terminal and our days together are limited, and precious, the idea that he’s to spend HOURS away from me, from his family with people doing their jobs and not for love is just unfathomable. (Don’t get me wrong, I believe his team should be paid and they’re great and they do care about Mikaere, but let’s be honest, if anyone of them won the lottery, looking after my son at school is probably not going to be on their todo list).
On the other hand, I can’t give him the engagement at home, the variety or the social stimulation he can get at school. I don’t have the capacity, and I hate that too. I haven’t yet had to drop off and leave him. They’re allowing me to settle him (though it’s clear now, weeks after he’s started, that he’s fine without me).
But eventually, I’ll have to leave him there. Not looking forward to that day. So, rock and a hard place. Knowing something is what it is, and wishing it wasn’t, well, that’s a familiar spot to be in.
Hey ho, onwards we go. School. It’s happening.