Jim and I visit Nick nearly every day. Our extended family and close friends all visit for hockey games, playstation or just to hang out. Nicholas is not lacking for company.
I was thinking that it is more like this: imagine that you have been in a bad car accident in China. There are people taking care of you, making decisions about painful procedures that you do not understand. No one speaks English. I think it's like this for Nick - of course he understands what is being said, but everything is new. Everything that is familiar is gone - poof.
Everyone will have played charades with the family at some point in their lives. Inevitably, there are those who intuitively make connective leaps of imagination to guess impossibly complicated answers based on a few vague gestures. Those are the winners. Then there is the cousin or brother who stares at the words on the slip of paper, groans, laughs, begins to awkwardly count syllables, then gives up. Nicholas is used to being surrounded by people in the former category. We know all his little gestures, tongue clicks, eye rolls or hand movements - we can put together complicated messages using his secret code in no time at all. We are his translators.
I know that we will be OK, but right now we all feel a strong push and pull. I know that visiting Nick every day gives him comfort, but is my hovering making his settling in more painful and less efficient? Today, I have not visited Nicholas - I have had two routine doctor appointments, I've done the grocery shopping and I've cleaned the house. All day long, I have worried. Is my baby safe? Is he happy? Are his eyes glazed from the exhaustion of trying to communicate with people who do not understand his language?
Yesterday, I gave a pep talk to Nick. I said "you are a great optimist. You have never been faced with a challenge that you didn't meet. We can do this, because we choose to. Every day, we must choose to be happy and we must not choose to be miserable. Each day, it's a choice. Growing up hurts sometimes - that's why they call them growing pains".
Now, I must work at applying these lessons too. Two years ago, I had to face this transition with Natalie when at 17, she crossed the ocean to attend university. Now, I have to trust that my boy who is so dependent, will be alright without me. There is no doubt about it, breaking up is hard to do.