Father's Days at Sea.
By Bob.
An illustrated memoir of my
family's first holiday.
Three years ago our daughter,
Poppy,
was born in critical condition
having suffered a brain injury
during labour.
She's happy.
She's cheeky.
She's determined.
She also has cerebral palsy and epilepsy
But we have tried as much as possible
to give Poppy a normal life.
Poppy's brother Dillon was born
20 months after her,
thankfully without complications.
We like to think that we cope
with most of the challenges
life has thrown at us.
But we'd be lying if we said
what we've been through hasn't changed us.
Sal and I loved to travel when we were younger.
But now the stress and fear
that go hand-in-hand with our situation
has trapped us in our little Hampshire terrace.
The idea of travelling further than a few miles away from home
let alone the possibility of taking our family abroad on holiday
is the kind of thing that gives us nightmares.
However a colleague of mine suggested that cruise might be
a safe and suitable holiday for a child with special needs.
Cruise ships tend to have an abundance of swimming pools,
and Poppy loves to swim.
Being in the water relaxes her over-tense muscles.
She's now three and can walk independently but falls over
frequently and can't always see
steps or holes because of her poor eyesight.
There will be lifts between the decks I remind myself,
and long flat stretches of deck space, without any obstacles to get in her way.
We booked a week-long cruise around the Med.
On the morning of the trip,
I woke in a state of panic
convinced that we would forget
some crucial item of luggage.
As we made our way through the airport
I started to wonder if we were
making a huge mistake.
It's hard not to be awestruck
when confronted by 139,000 tonnes of cruise ship for the first time.
But while the size of the ship was overwhelming
the size of our cabin was disappointingly small.
An added challenge for Poppy
who finds it difficult to move around without a lot of space.
She wasn't the only one who struggled with the cramped conditions.
Dillon immediately contacted reception to complain.
Sal and I began to feel a bit claustrophobic on board.
Dillon was too young for the Kids Club.
Poppy's complex needs made
it impossible to leave her there alone.
I hoped things would be better
once we could get off the boat on excursions.
But those involved two hours on a coach for a one hour visit.
It just wasn't practical with
small children and all of their clobber.
It was hard to see how we were going to get any pleasure out of all this.
What had we done?
Then one morning
everything started to change.
An exercise class on the main
deck had caught Poppy's attention.
She disappeared into a crowd of passengers and
before I knew it
she was gone.
I panicked.
But then a moment later she
appeared on the stage next to the instructor.
Having introduced herself to the crowd of elderly Italian ladies
Poppy performed some 'exercises' of her own
which the señoras dutifully mimicked.
She was in her element.
No one watching could see a disabled child.
They saw my cheeky, confident, life-loving daughter.
And I suddenly realised how
much my children were getting out of all this.
While Sal and I had been looking at the ship's formal meals as obstacle courses to get through
Poppy and Dillon revelled in the continental dinner time.
Poppy sat up beautifully and
blushed when the waiter
ceremoniously placed the cloth napkin on her lap.
And Dillon only smashed one tumbler.
One afternoon there was a theatre show for children.
We weren't sure how much Poppy would be able to see with her impaired vision.
I settled in for a miserably
kitsch show of Disney songs
performed by the ship's actors
in full costume.
Then I noticed that Poppy was completely captivated.
For her this was pure magic.
At the end she got out of her seat and applauded so enthusiastically that her glasses fell off.
Sal I may have dreamt of a holiday where we got some time to ourselves.
But then I remembered why I wanted to do this in the first place.
It was about the four of us
embracing this new adventure in
the same way we dealt with everything else.
Together.
There are times as a dad when I
feel like I know exactly what I'm doing.
And times when I feel less in control.
And that's exactly as it should be.
By the time we disembarked after a week at sea
I didn't feel like we had endured a horrible ordeal.
I felt like we had conquered our fears
and risen to the challenge as a family.
As we ate dinner on the clifftops over Genoa
Our cruise ship sailed into view.
We reflected on what it is given us.
New experiences.
Funny stories.
Happy memories.
And best of all,
confidence.
We waved goodbye
safe in the knowledge that we
were now a fully travel compatible family unit.
Well.
Almost.