Justin, a week on, and other news

It's now six days since we heard the news that has changed so much in our lives: perhaps for the good, perhaps not, but at any rate things will never be the same again. Last Wednesday night, the doctor came in to tell Ayumi that Justin has/is a Down's syndrome child. Yesterday, we took Justin to the Kobe Children's hospital, where he'll stay for tests until tomorrow morning. The initial signs are positive, though: his heart seems to be normal and other internal organs look to be ok; as long as the blood tests show no signs of leukemia, we can go all go home and start to live our lives together. Both Sean and Julian love him already, and can't wait to have him home again.

I cannot describe the intensity and range of the emotions we have felt these past few days. One thing I do realize is just how selfish we are: we cried for two days in grief and despair, but really, this is not for him — he's well, and seems content, and alert — but for our idea of that perfect future that now seems impossible. I had thought, up to now, that I was not a vicarious father: that I didn't live to see my ambitions fulfilled by my children, that I didn't care what my children achieved as long as they were happy. I was so wrong: the devastation and gut-wrenching anguish that I felt when the news sank in made me realise very clearly just how much ego is involved in my "selfless" parental love.

Justin is without fault, a tiny soul who hardly cries (though he demands feeding more than we were led to expect!), but who stares with clear blue eyes at the world; already we are growing to love him, to see past the baby we had naively expected to find. I only hope that we can find the strength to be worthy of his love, and to give him a happy home.

And life goes on. As the next set of pictures show, we live in an incredibly beautiful spot, and have the support of simply fantastic new friends (Kayo and Nathan, and their children Isaac and Joshua.), without whom the past few days would have been immeasurably harder. I'll post pictures of them and their house later, but for now here are some pictures of our view down the mountain, and of us messing around with an astral telescope which Nathan lent us, as we have a perfect balcony for star gazing on clear nights. We really have so much to be thankful for: with so much natural beauty around, it's hard to feel sad for long!

Comments

Turbulence (Thanks for all the fish, and more)

[Note: this piece is not about about my family, nor does it involve literary or musical criticism. I’m not anticipating any attractive illustrations or other lures, and no musical accompaniment either. So if that’s what you came for, look away now. There will be more such articles in the future, I hope, but this is not one of them. You have been been warned.] Tokushima Naruto Whirlpool (Shikoku Excursion) Events of the last few days have left me, both literally and figuratively, in a painfully disordered state of mind. In plain English, I’m stressed, and my head aches. Actually, it twinges, rather than aches, but the precise description matters little; at all events, the pain ‘comes and goes’, as they say. (Where pain goes to, when it goes, is a puzzle in itself. I have this anthropomorphised image of Pain, like some peripatetic poison dwarf, doing the rounds of the neighbourhood: “Hi, Nigel didn’t want me this hour, so I’ve decided to drop in on you for a while. Don’t worry thoug

What's love got to do with it?

Click here to play the first track [Youtube] When I was young/My father said Son, I have something to say And what he told me I'll never forget Until my dying day... ( Cliff Richard, Bachelor Boy, 1963) Since just after Justin's birth, I have tried to be positive and optimistic about our future, and particularly about the challenges presented by his condition. Sometimes, as will have been clear from other posts, this positivity is aided by an ostrich-like refusal to contemplate future eventualities, but mostly, it's because I feel we've been really lucky: he had no postnatal medical complications; he's loved and accepted by his brothers, he's growing well; there's even a hint of a smile on his face... There are some days, though, when optimism seems like an overwhelming challenge, days when I almost lose the will to move forward, and when I look around for a large tub of sand (something, like litter bins, that is in desperately short supply in u

Cambridge Blues ('Foundationed deep')

"I" Staircase, Trinity Hall, Cambridge This weekend past, I returned to Cambridge with Ayumi, Julian and Justin for the first time in seven years. The occasion was a college reunion dinner, marking approximately 40 years of life since matriculation (1980, 1981, 1982, 1983 entrance years): about half of us (~50) from each annual cohort turned up to compare notes, reminisce, squeeze our sagging frames into formal evening wear, and report biographical highlights. It is worth noting that this was a self-selecting group: those with sufficient time, opportunity, income (it wasn't a cheap weekend break), self-regard and retained affection for their alma mater to trundle up; as bushy tailed and 'Hail fellow, well met', as age and misanthropy might allow. Sic transit gloria iuvenum. I didn't have a great time, nor yet was it a disastrous waste. This is hardly surprising, since the curse of middle age is profound ambivalence about almost every extra-familial event or

Devenish

Search This Blog