My child

The day I became a parent was the day I knew I was going to be a caregiver for life. While I am so grateful to have my son, and my love for him is like no other, I would be lying if I said it wasn’t tricky at times. My son was born with a disability. Unfortunately, his disability has rendered it impossible for him to undertake basic life tasks such as effectively cleaning himself, feeding himself, and getting a job. It breaks my heart that he has to live a life with such struggle and will never get to experience the niceties everyone else gets to experience in life. He is now thirty-two and I am over sixty years old. There’s nothing I love more than being able to put a huge smile on his face, but as I am getting older I am finding it a lot harder to care for him as I used to.

I get tired quicker and am now dealing with my own plethora of health issues associated with ageing. My son deserves proper care and attention, which I sadly can no longer give. I often wonder if this means I am a bad mother, but I have always been reassured that my efforts the last thirty-two years speak differently. I guess I just wish I could do more for him. I’ve been looking for high-intensity support. NDIS will help me with the funding and budgeting of this home for my son. Ultimately I just want to know that wherever he will be, he will be treated with love, respect, and care. I also hope that the facility will be comfortable for him. I’d hate for him to move somewhere that was uncomfortable and lacked the resources to give him the care he needs.

I’ve made contact with the best SDA housing around Adelaide and so far the discussions have been positive. I could tell that they really loved caring for people and had the know-how to manage people with high-intensity disabilities. I think it’s safe to say that they have won my trust.