That “Bad Daddy” feeling

July 3, 2011

Note: For updates on our intensive therapy session, please see the day-to-day journal here.

This week the plot for this posting, wasn’t in the hard work Nathan showed day after day, but on the long drive home, at a time when most would be sleeping off a hard day’s work (then being strapped in a seat barely moving for almost two hours.)

Tuesday thru Thursday Nathan and I picked Annette up from work to head south. (She headed in at 7 to get in a half-day those days saving vacation time for this week and next.) This also meant driving back to campus, having her pick up her car and driving home the last 15 miles separately.

The stretch of I-71 from I-270 downtown is a path not driven by my cars often. Making the quick jog onto 315 to campus isn’t dangerous, just not typically the right direction for our needs. Yet somehow the two mile stretch that shares the path back to campus brought squeals of excitement from the back seat.

The child who isn’t supposed to be able to have a conscious thought of his own, recognized the merge which could take Nathan back to school. We would take the same exit ramp and his little legs would kick. If I gave a quick glance back there were smiles and a twinkle like “I know where we’re going.” We past the turn towards school, and there was a pause, then another giggle possibly bigger than before. The next turn confirmed he was right. The only problem was, he wasn’t. He knew this was the path to the parking garage which takes him to swimming, (which he hasn’t gone to since February.)

Then something weird happened. I stopped the car. Mom got out (and went into the garage) and we drove off. Did I forget to get him out of the car to go with Mom? Why would Mom go swimming without him? Silence in the back seat, made the radio seem deafening. As we kept driving farther and farther away, a sigh of concession rang loud and sad. And there was no more joy the whole way home.

Wednesday, the same thing happened, the same excitement, anticipation and ultimately, disappointment. There are so few things that Nathan shows such excitement, and after day-after-day of hard work it’s hard not to reward him. Coming home, shoveling a day’s worth of food in his mouth, rush him off to bath and send him to bed, just doesn’t seem fair.

The facility we’ll be staying this week at does have a pool and we’re hoping to have some time in the morning to get in at least once, (providing his overworked muscles still make it a treat.) It just brings back all those thoughts the doctors first told us he’d never have and low expectations stamped upon his initial diagnosis. It’s been a lot of work. Many miles, many tears, a whole lot of prayers, patience and faith, make for a long road to hoe, yet day-after-day, we travel knowing the end is worth the effort.

For the few things in life that bring Nathan joy, I hope to share more happy moments than sad. I want to make sure he knows that his efforts should not go unrewarded. As difficult as it may be for him to communicate, his heart still rings out crystal clear.

Soon Nathan, we’ll be back in the pool; kicking, splashing, giggling and playing. You keep up your hard work, and I’ll find a way to treat you to something you enjoy as well.

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