I've slowly been pushing myself to find new homes for all the equipment
Noah has outgrown. And he's outgrown a lot. And when I say outgrown, I
don't mean like how a baby outgrows a toy, or no longer needs a
highchair or a baby bouncy because their gross motor skills have finally
developed. I mean he simply grew too big to fit into any of them, but
still technically needs everything.
I found new loving homes for
all of Noah's adaptive medical equipment that he has gotten too big
for. Most of it boxed up today to go to a home in California to a
family that has adopted four children with special needs who needs
them. A little boy named Thomas will soon be enjoying all of Noah's old things. It's just stuff right? But in reality it's so much more than
just stuff. These things allow children like Noah to participate in the
world around them, it adds to their quality of daily living and life,
and in most cases is completely necessary to meet their caregiving
needs. And while it does my heart a world of good knowing that Noah's
gently used items will help another child, a part of my heart is still
heavy to have to say goodbye to all the things I worked so hard to get
for Noah. All of it out of pocket costs - and it all cost thousands of
dollars to obtain. I looked at it all thinking how hard I worked to get
it all. And I worked really hard. Harder than anyone could ever imagine.
Incurring debt, doing without anything and everything I could do without
to make it happen, even his grandmother using her severance pay for a
$1,700 adaptive chair for him at Christmas.
I think the thing
I'm struggling with is the feeling of starting over. I said goodbye to
two bath chairs, a special needs car seat, an adaptive toddler bike, a
Freedom Concepts Chill Out Chair, Noah's first wheelchair that I fought
so hard to pay for because insurance denied it as a non-medical
necessity, and special needs toddler therapy swings. Admittedly, it's
all been stored in the basement longer than it should have been. In my
mind maybe I imagined that I could still cram his long lanky legs and
tall torso into them, even knowing truthfully there was no real way.
Or maybe I just couldn't get past moving forward and closing that
chapter on Noah's toddler years and all that came along with it. The
biggest roadblock for me was knowing I had to close a chapter on all
these things that were too small for Noah without having the power or
the ability to move forward to replace any of it in larger sizes. And
it's much harder now. Noah's equipment is much more expensive because
larger sizes cost more. And we've used up every resource we had. And
the list of things I need for Noah grows by the day...
Noah's
needs aren't going to slow down, if anything they are increasing because
what he needs for his age is expanding. I'd be lying if I said I
didn't think about it or it didn't feel like the impossible mission.
But it is just that the impossible mission, for us and for most all
special needs families who are in the same boat we are. And this kind
of thing happens each time our children have a significant growth
spurt. There is only so much growth adjustments that are built into
these pieces of equipment. And eventually at some point you're forced
to start over several times as a child like Noah grows and matures.
Their therapeutic needs and miscellaneous items they need also don't
ever slow down. It's not quite like buying a dinning room set knowing
it will last you twenty years or more.
For now I'm just trying
to focus on knowing soon I'll get to see pictures of a another child using
Noah's former equipment and that things are how they should be. It
should be about helping someone else when you can. And the rest... well
I have to just take it a day at a time as I feel my way through how to
go about trying to start over acquiring all that Noah needs, most of which unfortunately is customized due to his high needs in larger
sizes.
Love,
Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.