My heart is on the outside of my body

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."

Elizabeth Stone

Today the Batsman had his first full day of school. I had to leave him there. From all reports, he had a wonderful day. "Our hearts are full. He is amazing." his aide said.

As we start this school chapter, I know my heart is on the outside of my body.
Pounding, ripe for crushing, ever hopeful and full of love.

The first time I really knew that being a parent means this forever-suspended-in-time state of organ displacement was the Batsman's first three weeks of life. Post fetal distress and complicated birth, there was special care nursery and feeding tubes and making sure our boy could hold his own temperature stable. My first parenting hours and days had my vulnerability laid bare, exposed for everyone to see.
My heart, on the outside of my body.

And then, you just keep going and life comes at you and that feeling fades. Until the next time.
If I think about it, I can pinpoint the times I have felt this way with the greatest of intensity.


When the autism diagnosis came.

When the home based therapy program began. There is some video footage of that first day of therapy that I can't bear to watch because of the pain etched all over my face. I swear you can almost see my heart.

And now we are here, almost three years later. The therapy program and kinder are done and dusted. He goes to school. My son goes to school. My brain can hardly register it, much less my heart.

It's going to be okay. I know it. Everything we have done as a family for three years has been to get to here, to school.

But I am going to have to look after my heart. It's on the outside of my body.

Can you see it?