Number One Thing I Say. I’ve loved my son since before he was ever born. What’s there to say?
You should be sorry that you can only see back in time. This is a new era with new opportunities and new ideas about potential and worthiness. I’m only sorry it’s taken this long and that we still have so far to go.
Lucky them. Good luck getting anywhere quickly with such a gregarious kid.
What exactly are you looking for that will legitimize him in your eyes? Maybe I should carry the envelope with the verdict handed down by some anonymous technician. Perhaps the letter from the state when the lab automatically reported his existence to the county health department “for statistical purposes.” What can’t you see? He’s a kid, growing up loved. What else are you looking for?
Number Seven. “I do not know how you do it.”
Published at Thu, 12 Oct 2017 19:28:35 +0000
Number Four. “Funny, you can not see it.”
Continue the dialogue on Facebook or Twitter.
What’s there to see? His almond shaped eyes that look through me as the spark of laughter flickering within them sears my soul? His cute little hands with that long crease across his palms holding mine, petting the cat, learning to write his name, wiping away tears when he’s mad? The orthotics helping reshape his desperately flat feet?
You should be. You’ll never hear the thoughts he speaks to me with his smiling brown eyes as he tilts his forehead to rest against mine. You’ll never drink in the heat that radiates from his head or taste his soft hair on your lips. You’ll never be awakened (again) at 3:00 a.m. by the hot air from his mouth on your face as he whispers, “Mommy, I want snuggles.” You’ll never know how it feels to celebrate every jump forward in development that other parents take for granted, but when he finally does it, it’s a very, very large molehill.
The mention of my previous sorrow precludes them from saying anything directly about those tests, so I leave it at that. I can always tell when they’re thinking, “I would have the test.”
Number Six. “That’s awesome!”
Number Three. “He’s so high-functioning.”
I’m his mother. Still confused?
Thanks, Brian–you are the right kind of friend. May everyone with a kid “like mine” know a man like you.
Things I Say:
“I’m so proud of you.” “Boy, you are handsome!” “Why won’t you let me cut your nails?” “TURN THAT DOWN!” “Wanna go bowling?” “Sweetheart, do not allow the dog beg like that.” “Would you please put this stuff away?” “You’re just too good to be true/Can’t take my eyes off of you.” “No, I don’t want to smell your feet.” “I love you, my sweet angel. You’re my heart and soul, my love and my life.” “You know you drive me nuts, right?”
I suppose it’s an attempt to connect, a way to say “he’s okay” because they know someone who knows someone who… But sharing an extra chromosome doesn’t make anyone like someone else any more than two people having green eyes does. Don’t tell me these six-degrees individuals are “like” each other.
Number Five. “I’m sorry.”
Yeah, far more than I am at 3:00 a.m. “MOMMY!” “urgh…?” “WHY ARE YOUR EYES CLOSED?!” “I’m sleeping, baby.” “WHY?!” “unnnhhh…” “READ TO ME!!!!” (seriously?)
(Cross-posted in the OSERS blog.)
“My sister’s/cousin’s/brother-in-law’s/landlord’s daughter/nephew/classmate/neighbor is ‘like him’.”
Jessica Wilson and her son, Jasper (aka Jaz, Jazzy, the JazMaster, or Dude!) , live in a cozy house of fur with two cats that are lazy and two mad dogs. Their favorite activities include traveling the world together, dance in the kitchen, snuggling and singing movie strikes. Jessica is Director of Communication and Dissemination for the Center for Parent Information and Resources (CPIR) and Resources for Access, Independence and Self-Employment (RAISE) projects with the Statewide Parent Advocacy Network (SPAN) at New Jersey.
The thought is never completed by them, as if just looking at him suggests what they’re really asking. I ache to play stupid: Know what? That he be a champion sleeper and would never cry as a baby? That he would really like to swim but hate to play with soccer? That I could love him ’til it hurts and still get so annoyed by some of his antics? As obnoxious as my brain screams for me to be, I simply answer “No. After dropping the first one, I did not want to take any chances with this very wanted baby.”
Source: TPd Paying for College Feed
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