In two weeks, I will officially go back to full-time hours at work. By January, I will have completed enough Master’s level courses to try teaching my first class, so this fall I am receiving mentoring on instructional design and classroom management. In the midst of all of that excitement, Drake will be going to school full-time for the first time. Since February, he’s been going part-time 2 days a week while I go to the office. He’s been doing really well, so we feel he’s ready for more.
I am super from being a domestic goddess, and for someone who is home a majority of the week my household chores could probably have been done a little better. However, I have lots of memories of morning walks, coloring and finger painting, dancing to Choo-Choo train songs, turning a kiddie couch into a car, table forts, and couch snuggles for story time. We had random trips to the zoo just to ride the train, therapy visits from EI, and going to the park after nap time.
I know I will always treasure this 2.5 years at home. At first, it was to protect his preemie immune system. Then, it was to make sure we made the most of his Early Intervention and other therapies. Now it’s time for him to learn how to enjoy the company of other kids and following a classroom routine, and it’s time for mommy to resume working. My little guy isn’t a fan of following plans that aren’t his own.
When we were first in the NICU and for the first year home, prematurity, its effects, and my guilt were all-consuming. These days, I follow more clubfoot treatment groups on Facebook than preemie ones. As he grows, I worry whether I am using his “night-night” shoes optimally to give him the best chance of full correction. We’ve had several nights of “ouch hurts” and “nite shoes off” screaming lately in the wee hours which always make me nervous, but usually ends up coinciding with a growth spurt.
I will never, ever forget my fear when he stopped breathing after choking due to GERD two months after coming home. The fear in the paramedic’s eyes on the ambulance ride to Children’s when he realized he didn’t have a mask small enough. Those memories are being supplanted by the sight of an excited two year old boy on a ferry ride or the thrill he has when he spots a train on a bridge.
We aren’t done dealing with the effects of prematurity. We’ve just been very lucky. He will probably always wear AFO’s for low muscle tone and weak ankles. We’re still pushing to get an MRI because he’s still showing some weakness on the left side versus the right that concerns his PT. But all in all, life is pretty sweet these days and thankfulness has finally overtaken fear.