My Tiny Warrior, Off to School

My little one Harry is starting school this September. He was born at 29 weeks, weighing in at an impressive 4lb 4oz (some of the weight was due to him carrying extra fluid because of a kidney disorder). He spent over two months in NICU. 


I look at Harry today and I never cease to be amazed at the remarkable little boy who stands before me. I think back to the beginning of his journey, and how we weren’t sure he would even survive. The most vivid memories are of times spent next to the incubator, putting my hand through the plastic porthole and placing my finger gently in the palm of Harry’s hand. Those tiny fingers would grip my finger firmly. It felt almost as if Harry were trying to convey to me that he was hanging on, he was fighting and I shouldn’t worry so much. The tiny fingers which were almost translucent, little nails barely formed, the skin red because his body hadn’t matured enough to cope with life outside of the womb. I remember when he would open his eyes and look around. These big, beautiful eyes which seemed so knowing. Harry looked (to me) like a wise little owl.  


When I took Harry for his last day at nursery in the summer, I held that little hand in mine. The hand that used to be so very tiny, so fragile, now gripped my hand squeezed it before he ran off after his little sister, laughing as they splashed through puddles. My tiny warrior. It struck me then how far he had come.

And now to school. I am worried about that first day, how am I supposed to keep it together? I will have to try and shut off my reality that I have watched my boy fight for his life. I have watched him get very sick over the past four and a half years, and I have watched him get well again. A constant cycle of normality and terrible fear. I have held Harry in NICU as his face turned grey and he stopped breathing. I have held Harry as he has battled infections and sepsis over the past few years. I most recently held him as he battled through low potassium levels, fever and dehydration (he has Bartter Syndrome, a rare genetic kidney disorder). To watch him go to school, there will be a huge amount of pride, but also the fear of wondering how he will cope. Given the battles he has already overcome, school should be no problem (says my rational side).


So, I will try my best as he goes to class. I will let go of that not so little hand. I will smile and wave and tell him to have a good day, and that I will see him at home time. And as I walk away, I may allow myself to feel the enormity of it and give in to tears. My tiny warrior, off to school!

Ellie Hepburn 

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