I have always been the type of human to over process and over analyze everything. You name it. I overthink it. All of it. So naturally when I found out I was pregnant with Noah, I went right to wondering if I’d be a good mama, but all women do that. Then when we got our Autism diagnosis, it was a spiral! Will he talk? Will he... won’t he... so many thoughts. It’s amazing to me that I’m not as worried about him talking as he gets older. I'm more worried about if he's kind, if he's smiling, and if he's happy. It's so taboo, a person's ability to talk says nothing about his or her level of happiness, yet that is the question I'm asked most. "Do you think he'll ever talk?" It's never, "is he happy?' I know everyone asks with nothing but love in his or her heart, but talking is kind of overrated. Think about it... How many words do you say in a day as opposed to how many words you speak in your own mind. Are the results overwhelming? Mine are. I'm a talker. Everyone of y'all right now are shaking your head "yes." But, y'all, my mind is in overdrive 100% of the time. I’ve been thinking about this "talking situation" a lot the last year. But, honestly, does the ability to talk have anything to do with your worth as a human being? Absolutely not! Seems to me that talking is at the bottom of a long list. We all have our challenges. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. Noah's strength is his smile. He could move mountains with that grin of his. Missing teeth. Dimples. A smile has come across my face as I am typing. He amazes me in more ways than one. He gives 110% to a task. He can put Legos and puzzles together like a master engineer. He loves to make us proud. He'll vacuum all day, everyday and fold towels like a boss. And I refuse to list any weaknesses. He is perfect in his mama's eyes.
Challenges are a bit of a different story. Challenges do not equal imperfections. It just means we work a little harder in some areas. Noah has to work a little harder to communicate, to get his point across, to follow directions and perform simple tasks. But he's learning. It's something new everyday. Most recently he's learned to make his own grits. Bowl, two packets, one cup of water, stir carefully, microwave thirty seconds. ENJOY! I am amazed. He can pour his own cereal and juice in a cup. I know this seems so small and simple but if you didn't know sometimes Autism affects motor skills and it takes some skill to pour from a huge jug full of juice and hit an opening in a cup. He gives it his all. And sometimes it's perfect and sometimes it spills. But he gives his all to clean it up. Still a bit wet and sticky but dang he sure does try. Life is wet and sticky sometimes.
Special needs parenting is hard. It's lonely, it's isolating, it's heartbreaking sometimes. I know I paint a rosy picture. The landscape is beautiful and the sky is blue. The water is so clear you can see to the bottom. But sometimes when no one‘s looking it’s coming a flood in my picture. Only a few people see because I’m so afraid to fail. The clouds roll in and it gets dark. I don’t want anyone to see how sad and hopeless I feel sometimes. That I feel like the worst mom in the history of motherhood. I smile and I laugh and I joke. But, sometimes I am so overwhelmed that I build a wall so high that no one can climb it. Some days I don’t want my picture to be rosy, I just want it to rain and rain and rain and then maybe everyone will understand. But then, there's a light. And the raining stops. A sweet, little boy and little girl climb the wall and smile at their mama who in their eyes can do no wrong. If that's not a reason to repaint, then I don't know what is...
Failing is what makes us human. It’s what makes us get it right after so many times doing it wrong. We finally learn that maybe there is a different way. And when we finally get it right, it makes it so much better. It just seems to me that we could all use a little nonverbal in our life. A kind smile means so much. A kiss on the head to let me know he's thinking about me. But this year, he's blossomed more than ever. The defining moment was probably eighteen months or so ago. I'm cooking super. Noah brings me a Mickey Mouse dvd. I pop it in. He points and says, "Mickey!" Since then, the flood gates have opened. He's talking all over the place. He counts. I cry. He asks to go to "Nanny and Pawpaw's house." My parents come and get him and Kate and off to Nanny and Pawpaw's they go. He names animals we see when we're out driving, he hollers out "TRAIN!" when the whistle blows, he tells us what holidays are during the month we're in. I could literally go on forever. Definitely longer than y'all want to read. The progress is never ending.
I've always hoped for the best. Always. But over the last six years there have definitely been chunks of time when I really thought Noah might be non-verbal for the foreseeable future. That is something I've only shared with a few people. As a special needs parent you have to hope for the best while preparing for the worst. And by no means is Noah being non-verbal forever the "worst." But you get the saying. I have never been so happy to be wrong in my life. Sometimes you don't realize how much your heart wants something on the bottom of the list.
Thanks for the read once again.
All my love,
Nikki
