September has always been one of my favourite times of the year. I love the contrast between the ending of summer and the possibilities of a new academic year. For a start as a huge fan of stationery and new shoes it’s a win all round on the shopping front. I love autumn, I love wearing boots and cable knit. I just think it’s a feel good time of year. Those moments of bright sunshine when summer is trying to cling on but it’s still cold enough to have the heating on in the morning. We got married in the Autumn because I’ve always thought its the most romantic season of the year.
Or at least it always was.
Since Mojo was born autumn approaches like a Game of Thrones trailer. Ominous and threatening. They are coming for us. The viruses. The change-of-season germs which sweep through schools and nurseries bringing coughs, colds, chest infections and worse. Every year the niggling thought that this year we might not be so lucky, arrives with the falling leaves.
I can’t remember which nurse it was that told me (because I’d asked) that it would likely be a chest infection that killed Mojo, it was very early on in our journey when she was just a baby and we were under palliative care. Mojo has proved herself time and time again since then but nevertheless that kind of information never goes away and I still feel my stomach drop when I hear Mojo’s chest rattle.
This week as Mojo went back to school the first of the coughs appeared. Hacking and wheezing her way through the night. Bringing with it an unwelcome return of the vomiting which haunts our winters.
I know what you’re thinking, bit dramatic right.
You’re right of course, resentment isn’t a very pleasant concept when it comes to the things Mojo’s condition takes from her but in this case I do resent it. I resent the fact that rather than gathering conkers and drinking hot chocolate she will more likely be having to have chest physio and duvet days.
But then I have to remind myself that while an infection may be more complicated for her than for your average child she has increasingly dealt valiantly with them, all of them, all the many repeated viruses have been met and battled with and sent on their way. She is getting stronger every year. Recently we had the realisation that it had been an entire year since we had had to have a night in the hospital. Every procedure or even surgery she has had in the last year hasn’t needed any overnight stays. That was so monumental that neither my husband or I spoke too much about it for risk of tempting fate.
So while I might for now feel like my Septembers have been tainted by a fear of what is to come, I think there is hope yet that season changes, although always threatening may start to be less dread inducing with each passing year. But for now at least excuse me while I adopt the brace position for the next few months.
Oh and P.S. Catch it, bin it and wash your hands kids. Help me out here!!
