Keep The Faith...

I have a confession. I am pretty sure that I'm really sad.

I could blame it on my Dad. He'd be okay with that. I'm so mad that he's gone. I can't say that I had unfinished business with him. Fortunately, that wouldn't be accurate. I talked to him a lot - and I shared a lot with him - and he always knew the right answers to all of my wrong questions.

I miss him so much I can't stand it. I'm also kind of bummed that I haven't "heard from him" which I realize may sound absurd. I guess I was looking for some dramatic sign - or lights flickering (it is possible that I've watched too much "Ghost Whisperer") - or a very realistic dream...or something. Nope. Nothing.

But on a positive note (which I learned from my Dad) - today there may have been a sign. At my first fertility appointment after starting my stimulation injections they did an ultrasound to check on my egg production. (We could be going in for our egg retrieval as early as this Wednesday, February 1st!) The nurse and I got to talking. She didn't know that my Dad had died right before Christmas. She didn't know that I found out I was pregnant after our very first try with IVF on the day that my Dad had his stroke. She didn't know that I stayed pregnant through the hospital vigil, the terribly emotional days following his death, the days we planned his funeral, the viewing and the funeral and the burial. She didn't know about Darcy. As I told her these little pieces of my life story - she kept repeating the same thing to me.

"You have to just keep the faith."

Something my Dad always said - "Keep the faith." It was a big part of our tribute to him and was included in the eulogies, the program and more. Keep the faith. Why would a young nurse continue to repeat the phrase to me?

I would give anything to talk to my Dad right now. I'd tell him that Gavin is following Miss Stephanie's directions to push a bead across a piece of string...

How today, when our painter (Miss Katja's boyfriend, Franco!) was washing brushes after finishing Brian's new room, that Gavin was right in there watching and wanting to "help"...

That today, he was easily amused by bubbles and it was such a beautiful reminder to me to stop and enjoy the simple things in life...

How he continues to color match, amazing all of us. Look at the following photos. He knocked the blue block accidentally into the yellow square...

And then deliberately corrected himself and put the blue block into the blue square.

I'd tell him that he chomped on apple slices today with Miss Maggie and used the iPad to ask for his milk...

When I stop to think, I can't really blame ALL of my sadness on my Dad dying. Over the past four years it has been one thing after another for our family. Gavin's birth crisis...his health crisis...a traumatic first year...followed quickly by Brian's birth which was unfortunately followed by post-partum depression. My pregnancy with Darcy...her birth straight into Heaven...and multiple miscarriages throughout up until a few months ago.

I trick myself into thinking I'm not as sad as I think. I'm plenty social...if you count the conversations I have all day with therapists, Miss Sara, my children, Facebook and talking to the TV when I disagree with one of the Real Housewives of any city. But the reality is - I rarely get out. Because I talk to people every day all day - I often don't want to talk to anyone else. The truth is - I feel I really have nothing left...or nothing that important...to say.

I would love to tell my Dad how I've stuck to my guns keeping Gavin home from "school" for as long as I have. My whole philosophy - which was well thought out - was that we should work with Gavin to become more independent physically before we sent him out into the world. Even now I don't think he's ready - despite his recent progress with his walker. If I were to put him in school...the second he was let down to 'explore his environment', I know just what he'd do. He'd go up to any surface and bang his teeth - or he'd rub his mouth and tongue on their windows and other glass surfaces. And the second he did that, they would strap him into a chair to stop the behavior. There is just not enough adults for each child - in any school! At home, he can be Gavin. He has a safe and clean environment to explore and get around on his own. He can access any toy he wants - at any time. He even can climb into the open refrigerator to retrieve his own milk cup.

But now the clock is ticking. I received in the mail "Kindergarten Registration Forms" from our school district. They decided to change the cut off date, meaning that come September of this year I will not be able to receive therapy services from our county the way we do now - at home. Before they changed the date I had a whole extra year - but now I don't. At first I freaked out...but I know that by Gavin's 5th birthday (if not sooner) he will be ready. But now it's up to me to find the right school...the right scenario...the right location...to be sure it's just perfect.

My pie in the sky dream? To find a wonderful school and send Miss Sara with him. She's totally game. She knows Gavin - knows his quirks and his bad habits. She could help him access things in the classroom and discourage the mouthing behavior by keeping him distracted and entertained. If I had that - I'd send him tomorrow! And he could either get his therapy in school - or they could come here once he's home for the day. At least until next September! It, to me, seems like the perfect set up. Now...I just need to convince whoever I need to convince...and find the school that would foster the spark that we've all lit in Gavin. Just another thing on my "to do" list. Wish me luck...

I just wish I could run this by my Dad. He'd know just what to do.