For what it's worth

This whole thing? Moving my family to another country in another hemisphere. Leaving everything we know behind… is it worth it?

                This has been the most difficult thing I have ever done in my whole life. Difficult in ways that I cannot even describe in writing – or rather in ways that I don’t want to revisit through writing. But the short answer is Hell Yes.

                If I have to start describing how amazing Malakai’s school is, and how wonderful Harlan’s preschool is – I could carry on for days. At times the attention that Malakai receives, the effort that is made for him by people that are essentially total strangers – it’s overwhelming. I cannot believe that they would do so much for him and for us? And why don’t I believe it? I don’t know why – is it the way I was raised, the country I’m from, my experience thus far? Is it because in South Africa I had total control of his therapies and interventions and here I have no control, so I have to allow others to do what I cannot do? Perhaps…

                But it is just incredible.

                Malakai has a class teacher and teaching assistant, but then he also has three support workers who work at different times of the day and week so that he has constant one-on-one attention. His class teacher plans his lessons and the support workers implement it. Malakai has his own work station and they give him a very visual approach to learning. He spends as much time as possible with the other children in the class and has made friends! There is Hassim and Joe, Lilly and Milly, Maya and Henry, Tom and Ben… We even went to a birthday party last week (Henry’s) which was awesome! A few times in the last week Malakai has walked his friends (usually Lilly or Milly) to their car holding hands. I mean seriously!!!! I can die from the cute-factor!

                As for academics, Malakai can now write all his numbers and has learned to recognise, say and sound out M, S & N. They sing with him. Dance with him. Read with him. Exercise with him. Laugh with him. Love him. Accept him. Want him… and it feels so good it hurts.

                As for Harlan – who unfortunately tends to take a back seat in this blog, but definitely not in real life I promise! – he has made me so proud. He has walked into a new preschool, filled with new kids who speak a little funny and eat a little funny. He has done all this in a way that the teachers have asked, “And you said Harlan was shy?” and I know he’s shy! Believe me! He’s been so brave, so smart, so wonderful. Have I said yet how proud I am of him? It has not been easy for any of us, but I think least of all Harlan, and he has really been a brave, brave boy.

                So, yes. It’s been worth it.

A whole lot of newness

 

Happy New Year!!!

Ok. So I have never been the best at hitting at the nail on the head when it comes to New Year, I have always been a bit slower on the uptake and this year is no exception to that rule.

So, it's already February and I'm wondering where the time has gone? Wasn't it just Christmas? Good grief!

But I forgive myself (for once) because life has certainly been a crazy mish-mash of newness at every turn; immigrating to a new country, on a new continent, in a new hemisphere will do that to you!

Getting used to life in beautiful Surrey has been interesting, gut-wrenching, uplifting, terrifying and totally satisfying all at once. The tough bits are all about missing home, about looking out the window to face yet another day of drizzle, about craving an Ouma rusk with every fibre of my being, about wanting to reach out and realising the person I want to reach out to is not just down the road anymore. Yes, there have been tears.

But then I am faced with the glorious bits; driving through the countryside past farms and tiny villages to drop my children at their respective schools, really being dumbfounded at the prettiness that reveals itself around every corner, being pleasantly startled at how well the bureaucratic machine turns in this first world country, and of course... the children.

I am so stinking proud of my boys. Harlan has been a champion of a boy, walking into his new school and settling in with such bravery despite the fact that I know it was difficult for him. I know he was scared, I know he was nervous, I know he wished he didn't have to do it, but he did and he's happy now and I am one proud mama.

Malakai's school has been incredible, gently guiding and supporting him through the process of settling in. He has made incredible strides in understanding a whole new system and has gone from being allowed to run amok to sitting in his class alongside his classmates. This may sound small, but in Special Needs Parenting Land, this tiny step takes on Epic Proportions, trust me... I am so stupendously happy with this school that I actually find it difficult to put into words what they are doing for him... and in turn, for me.

So yes, I am a bit late for the New Year. But trust me, the New Year has been the last thing on my mind. Now that I'm all caught up and officially residing in 2014 in both body AND mind I am looking forward to everything it has to bring.

Photo credit: www.surreyhills.org

What I know for sure

  

When I was younger I thought I knew a lot of things for sure, and such is the natural and inevitable bravado and confidence of youth. Failure is almost never an option, or even a reality, as our lives are held up and supported by those who come before us - parents, grandparents, teachers and anyone else who has a vested interest in giving us the belief we need in ourselves to take on the big wide world with a fighting chance one day.

 

As I've grown older there are many things I am not so sure of anymore, and I've realised that some of the most difficult things to do as an adult are those which you are not guaranteed the outcome of. You just do it because you must, or because you think it might work, or because you are trying your best. The result you want is not promised, and sometimes your heart is broken. Plain and simple. Life happens, as they say.

So when we decided to immigrate our family from one hemisphere to another based on the belief that both our sons' deserved the opportunity to attend mainstream schools, that it was within our reach to drop our children off at the same school gate each morning, that Malakai belongs with his peers because he's a little boy just like any other little boy - or that he at least deserved the chance to mainstream... all these beliefs that we held onto (and that South Africa couldn't offer us) led the biggest decision we've made for our young family. A move that cost us our life savings, not to mention the priceless loss of leaving our family, our friends, and the home town we've known all our life. Even though we thought we knew what we were doing, we weren't exactly sure how this move would change our lives and if we would end up getting what we so wanted for Malakai and Harlan.

Until we did.

Because we sure did, and I now I know for sure. We made the right move. We did the right thing. Our choice gave us the result we so dreamed of, and even more.

To give you an idea - the letter below is from the Special Education Needs Coordinator (SENCO) at Malakai's new school. This letter followed our first visit to the school once we arrived, where we were shown around and had a meeting with the principle and SENCO.


Dear Loren,

I hope you and your family are settling in well and looking forward to Christmas in Surrey.

Since we were last in touch, we've been advertising for extra special needs assistant support with the view to Malakai having full time 1:1 support. Malakai will be in a Year 1 class with his peers but also have the support he will need to help him access the curriculum at his level and the flexibility to use resources from the Reception classrooms (if you remember how excited he was to try out the bike on the playground!). We feel he will also need some support in the first instance due to his toileting needs and to ensure his safety as he appeared a little flighty on his visit. The advert states that the support is for a Year 1 child with Down syndrome (but does not name Malakai) this is in order to attract people with either experience of working with Down syndrome or people who are willing to learn about working with a child with Malakai's needs. We hope to make an appointment in the first week back after Christmas and aim to start Malakai in the school week of the 13th of January.

The educational psychologist would prefer to see Malakai in our school environment and would like to come in during the first week. No date/time is fixed yet but I will let you know when it is. She will start to assess Malakai's needs and this will feed into the satutory  assessment process which Lauren has sent you a leaflet about. Initially Malakai's support will be paid for from our school funds and once he hopefully gets a Statement of Special Needs additional funding will become available from County.

If you are available then Malakai's class teacher (Mrs Kernot) would like to see you at school next Tuesday. This will be an opportunity for Malakai to look around again and take any photos you might like (Mrs Kernot is also hoping to take photos and put a book together for Malakai). During the visit, we hope Malakai will be able to interact with some of his new class friends and Mrs Kernot is planning some playbased activities. Mrs Kernot is looking forward to meeting you both.

I imagine you've learned so much about Down syndrome as Malakai has grown up and for most of our staff we are at the beginning of the journey. If you have any resources you feel are helpful please let us know. I've been in touch with the Down Syndrome Association who have a great website and give support to schools and families. We also have two special schools locally who have outreach teams who work with us mainstream schools to develop our knowledge on different special needs. There are also some training opportunities coming up in the spring term from the Down Syndrome Association which we hope to attend. The educational psychologist will also provide us with support tailored to meet Malakai's individual needs.

We are a dedicated staff and will do everything we can to ensure Malakai is happy and safe, in a stimulating learning environment.  We look forward to your visit. Many thanks and best wishes.


When I got this email I was left speechless - literally. I didn't know how to respond, what to say, where to even start. I was dumbfounded at the level of interest, care and attention they had given my son. MY son!

We did visit, and it was yet another example of their sincerest hopes to give Malakai the best. We were welcomed by Mrs Kernot (who's wonderful by the way!) and two little ones from Malakai's class. They gave us a school tour (again) and took photos all along the way. Malakai was totally smitten by everyone and wherever we went in the school the teachers and support staff seemed to know who Malakai was, greeting him with warm smiles.

As promised, Mrs Kernot did make a book for malakai and she and the SENCO actually dropped it off at our home and came in to say hi to Malakai and meet Harlan. Dropped it off!!! Seriously...

So, what I know for sure is that we did the right thing. We made a good choice and the promises are like big warm arms enfolding us and saying 'you did good, well done'.

The Big Thing

 

 

So I got news today that our UK settlement visa applications have been completed and are enroute back from the UK to the visa application centre in Pretoria, and I’m like WHOA… (in caps, yes)

 

This means that technically we could meet our initial flight bookings for the 6^th of November, which is like tomorrow… pretty much… almost… ok not really, but it feels like tomorrow. And I’m all like – wait a minute, don’t I need to do things, finish things, see people, get a good haircut in rands, buy new bras and stuff? And what about The Big Thing? The Saying Goodbye to My Country Thing?

 

Because although we’ve planned this whole immigration – thought it through like the responsible adults and parents we are – the whole thing has only taken about six months from our decision to, well… today. And I’ve been so busy planning a trans-continental-and-hemisphere move that I’ve forgotten to actually process The Big Thing.

 

Because while I know this is a good decision for Malakai’s present and future – can’t argue with that – it’s not like we hated our lives over here. Not by a long shot. We were happy, we were finally coming out of a very long and sleep-deprived journey as new parents and entering the phase of ‘not-so-new, not-so-tired, hey-let’s-have-a-braai-at-our-place parents’… and then we leave. We walk away from the promise of an actual social life, a rekindling of old friendships, and a pretty friggen awesome neighbourhood (holla Centurion!), for the cold, drizzly, unknown of semi-rural England.

 

And suddenly – even though I miss my husband, and my children are pretty much aching for their father with their entire little bodies – I am not so excited about boarding that plane… I am scared. I am not really ready to say goodbye to my home and my country. I feel like I need to release some balloons, or write a note and bury it, or plant a tree or do something with profound meaning (that is not quite Grade 9-ish in character). But what?

 

Well, I’ve got like a day or two to figure something out. I think. But still – how do I say goodbye? How do I leave and possibly never return (unless it’s on a friggen awesome Pound-based holiday)?

 

I’m not sure. For the entire six months it’s been about the planning the move, finding the money (much too much of it), conversing with the immigration lawyer (without sounding neurotic), the visa applications, the mind-numbing paperwork and forms, packing up an entire house, dropping my Dolly (the boy’s nanny and my right-hand-woman) at her new job without crying openly in front of anyone, while still maintaining some kind of normalcy for the children – but it’s never been about saying goodbye. Not until now.

 

Now I actually face saying goodbye – I actually have to do it and I just feel so unprepared for this. So totally unprepared. Maybe I think too much; people move all over the world all the time, every country is filled with foreigners making lives, meeting people, and having a good time. Hell, I love to travel, and off we go in a few days’ time! So what’s the big deal about The Big Thing?

 

Could it have something to do with the way in which South African’s subconsciously judge those who choose to leave? Faders. Sissies. They obviously don’t have what it takes to make it in Africa – and whatever, because we know it rocks here. The weather, the people, the spirit, the sport, the landscapes, the beauty, the big sky, the wildlife, the stars, the bravery, the can-do attitude. Those who want to leave are ‘giving up’ on South Africa and we secretly hope they’ll hate where they’re going to more than they hated South Africa.

 

But you see… sometimes people don’t leave because they’re running away from something. Sometimes people leave because they’re running towards something – and there is a difference. We are not leaving because we hate our country, because we think it’s a horrible place, because we are scared for our futures here (ok, well we are terribly scared of Malakai’s future here – that’s totally true). We are leaving because we are going towards something – the best education we can offer our child with special needs, and the best for his future. That’s what we’re running towards, that’s our driving force, because South Africa simply cannot offer it. It just can’t. Not right now anyway.

 

So is part of my fear of leaving that I don’t actually want to leave, that I’m not running away? Maybe… So there’s only one thing to do Loren Stow! Look forward, run towards an amazing inclusive and empathic education system for Malakai. I’m a-runnin’, but I still need to process this step, this Big Thing, this very difficult goodbye.

Closing the door

Now is as a good time as any to just come out and say it - weareimmigratingtotheuk...

I can't say why I don't want to talk about it - am I embarrased? Do I secretly think people who immigrate are cowards? Do I feel like what we're doing is unfair? Well, yes and no.

I have avoided the subject of our impending immigration because I don't want to face the reasons we are leaving, or at least not out in the open for everyone to see and judge. I feel safer keeping our reasons to ourselves and avoiding the whole damn thing until I say one day 'Cheers! See you later!'

But of course I have to face the reasons, and share them. So I will try to do just that in this post.

We are immigrating to the United Kingdom in an effort to give Malakai the support, intervention, possibilities and freedom that he simply cannot get in South Africa.

There. I said it.

I love my country, I love the people, I love the big skies and the weather, I love the Any Day is a Braai Day attitude, I love the way those who have nothing give more than those who have everything, I love my black friends, I love my Afrikaans friends, I love my Indian friends, I love the way South Africans see possibility, connect and move forward. I love the fact that we have the Big Five and the wild landscape because where on earth can you get that other than Africa? I love melktert and niknaks. I love biltong and Mrs Balls. I love so much about my country.

What I don't love is the way in which mothers have to tie their mentally handicapped children to poles in order to keep them safe from wandering, because they simply have no other choice and no other support.  What I don't love is the way that one day our government preaches about inclusive education and the next they're back stepping like Michael Jackson doing the moonwalk - do they think I get my child ready for inclusion in a matter of days or weeks, well Mr Minister of Education, it takes years!!! His whole friggin life so far, in fact! What I don't love is the way in which our private schools will not accept my son because he has special needs and their sole focus on the 100% pass rate which drives their fees and profits up, up and away... What I don't love is the way in which our special needs organisations are fragmented, demi-god-like information-nazis that want to control the very people they serve. What I don't love is the way that I have to downgrade my son's therapies to a minimum because I simply cannot afford to pay his therapy and medical bills, seeing that I receive absolutely no support - financial or otherwise - from the country to which I hand over my hard earned money each and every month.

Wow - that was a load off! *exhale*

We have chosen to go to a place where families like us are supported, where they understand we are a little more cash-strapped than normal, where my son will be swept into a river of tried and tested policy and procedure like a leaf that hits the water and floats along supported by the current of 'what is'. I am tired of fighting and forging ahead like a modern-day special needs voortrekker. I just want to slide into a comfortable place - one where I know my son is going to get everything he so deserves, and not because I've demanded it or begged for it, but because it is the way things are. Simple.

However, I have this kind of 'quitters guilt', like I should be sticking it out in a country with my fellow special needs families, fighting and making this place better for our children and all the differently-abled children to come. Surely I should be ashamed to just cop out like this - and I certainly do feel my cheeks flush. Which could explain why I've held the news of our immigration so close to my heart, revealing as little as possible until the last possible moment.

Unfortunately, the way forward for special needs in South African is rather overgrown, and a path needs to be beaten into shape by the feet of hundreds if not thousands of families - and I have to ask myself, do I try to make a difference for my country or do I try to make a difference for Malakai?  Because I know if we stay, we will not be able to give Malakai what we could in England.

I choose my son.