My nerves are shot. The pit in my stomach feels endless.
Tomorrow at 12:05 a yellow school bus with the Jefferson County Public Schools insignia predominately displayed across it’s middle will pull up to our curb. This 13 ton vessel of steel will transport my daughter (and all that goes with her) twelve miles (that’s an hour or bus time) to Fletcher Miller Special School where she will attend her first day of preschool.
And I will be at work. Where I should be. Because if I wasn’t and I had to watch that 13 tons of steel drive away with my daughter- the first time she will be in someone else’s care outside the home (and hospital, of course) the strongest prescription of Xanax wouldn’t suffice. So I will sit at work, watching the clock, counting down every minute until my baby girl begins her first day of school.
And she will enjoy every minute of it.
This might come as a shock with the post that preceded this one, especially when the next few months hold such huge implications for Faith’s future health. Yes, we are running the risk of exposing her to lots of germs- ok it’s not even a risk- there will be lot’s of germs. Yes, she is bound to catch a something. Yes, this could risk her not being able to have the necessary surgeries that could result another year with the trach. But really when it came down to it there was no choice.
Childhood is waiting, and it’s time for Faith to have her fair share.
:) J & CO.