Getting used to the inevitable

My son has been at the children's facility for two nights and three days. I am going to visit him today, and the nurse I've talked to each day has told me he is fine. It sounds like he may be better than fine.

My son is unusual. He can move around quite a bit but does not know his name and cannot understand any commands. He is not happy sitting in his wheelchair for too long and likes to crawl around on the floor. The facility asked me to bring a big area rug for him to play on and crawl around on with his toys. Yesterday, I called the nurse's station and his nurse told me he was on his area rug with another boy that can move some, too, that's the same age as my son. I was speechless. What a great start to this journey!

I am overwhelmingly emotional about all this. I am still waking up during the night as I haven't slept normally in 12 years. I've been going for walks, hikes really, which is something I couldn't do with my son in his wheelchair.

Dropping my son off went smoothly once I gave up my responsibility and didn't fight it. My son is not receiving the very personalized care he received from me. He is "institutionalized" for lack of a better description. But I don't think he cares. My older son kept pointing that out to me the first day. My older children are impressed with the facility and think it is a great place for their brother. They love him and I trust their opinions.

Time will tell and I remain hopeful. But I miss my son waking up in the morning and reaching for me.