And on as a father I wander

Well, here I am again, wandering on as a father. It's been a while dear reader, I know. Time passes so quickly, and if I am completely honest, I think I have felt little inspiration to put digit to keypad. Since our last meeting, various events have taken place. As aforementioned, in my last entry, my eldest child, is well into his secondary school journey. He is undoubtedly growing, not only in a physical sense, and, it seems, he has attained a little more height every night during his slumber, crawling from within his pit, a little more vertically imposing on the world, but also, grown in maturity, and swagger! The history behind my first born entrance to day one of his life, was by far an incredibly difficult start.
However, with knowledge attained by watching him grow from babe, to an almost 12 year old, the difficult start makes complete sense. That light bulb Eureka moment. He was very poorly when born, despite weighing what seemed at the time, a very healthy 10lbs 12.5oz. It is now assumed that my wife had diabetes during pregnancy, which was sadly missed, resulting in a rather rotund baby. My wife was in labour for almost a week, and subsequently, an extremely difficult and long birth ensued. My son had to literally be wrenched from his warm and safe surroundings by his head, which in turn severely damaged his neck, and muscles within, and in the process, cutting his head.
I recall the surgeons arms shaking with the effort and strain placed upon them due to the sheer effort of trying to bring him into the world. It reminded me of when an Olympic weightlifter struggles to perform the last part of the lift, arms shaking and trembling, trying desperately to straighten the arms.
The moment the birth happened, and I can remember it now as if it were only a few hours ago, my world slowed to almost a halt. Seeing him emerge into the world, distorted head, and not a sound heard. I then remember my world almost rushing in on me, as if someone had accidentally pressed play and fast forward on the tape deck of my life at the same time. The nurses rushing him to some machinery in the room, no doubt designed to save life.
Thinking back, and looking at my boy now, I realise with a great deal of admiration, he is a fighter. He fought to get into the world, he fought for his first breath, fought to cry his first cry. Fought also for many many many months to hold his own head up. Fought to sit up without help. He has fought his way through primary school, and I do not mean in a physical way, no, in an academic way.
My wife has fought also. Fought to get him assessed for his learning needs at school, as he has always struggled to get things out of his brain, onto the paper, and to make sense of what he is trying to achieve.
Now, in 2018, finally, due to my wife' sheer determination, passion for her sons learning wellbeing, and to give him the best chance we and the education establishment can afford him, finally have received a diagnosis of Dyslexia.
My wife wept when she read the report from the specialist as there has been a prodigious sense of relief within our household. Not only from my wife and I, but also my son, who had convinced himself that he was stupid, unintelligent and just did not "get it"
Since the official diagnosis, my interpretation of my sons world, has efficaciously fallen into place. As if the jigsaw puzzle of the universe, tossed into the abyss, subsequently caught by the viscous unforgiving winds of space, came spiralling down to earth, landing in complete perfect order, the picture once unseen, now emerges like the sun above a desolate landscape. It's light creeping across the surface, shadows diminishing, darkness fleeing the light as if it were its predator.
You see, my sons forgetfulness, more prominent than you would expect of a boy his age, academic confidence lacking shackles he wears, now clanking ever louder. Organisational skills, deserting him. All of these, make complete and utter sense now. And, having said all of that, to say I am proud of him does not come close to expressing how I feel. He should feel immense hubris for how well he has done to date.
To embrace life in the way he has. To attend school each day, from his primary school days, to his new secondary school career without fuss, nor complaint, leaves me amazed. He has been recognised at school as a talented sportsman. He loves goalkeeping, and has shown a natural ability. He has even been chosen to play for the school football team, not only in his own academic year group, but also the year group above. He also plays for a local side. He regularly attains achievement points in class. for his effort.
Most parents have high aspirations for their children, and will, of course, have a bias view of their children's abilities, I understand, and accept that. However, seeing the loving, caring boy he has become, and how vastly aware of others feelings he is, leaves me in awe of the boy.
When I started this entry, it was never intended to immerse you in where my son is at, and what a momentous enlightenment his diagnosis bestowed.  
But, I see it like this, you sleep, and when you sleep, your brain will cleanse itself of the what the day has thrown at it, leaving your mind refreshed and ready for what the new dawn has to offer. I feel by sharing this with you, has been therapeutic, clearing one of the store rooms along the damp, dark corridors of my mind. 
Whilst I have a storeroom free, I'll continue to wander on as a father.

(©) Dom Giddy 2018

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