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| Me, at that moment. |
No, he didn't call me mama directly. I said mama to him and he repeated it back to me. This day shall go down in history as the day that gave me the most hope I've ever been able to contain within myself. I was in tears.
I have been more often than not, the pessimist. I have always figured that being an optimist comes with a lot of disappointment. You think any outcome will be positive and you end up being wrong most of the time. Pessimism is easier. You think any outcome will be negative and usually you are right. The perk being that when it IS positive, you are pleasantly surprised.
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| Unless it's Miller in the glass. That shit is piss water. |
I never thought my little Kahler would ever speak given that the statistics for classic autism being verbal is 50/50. The most he has said in his five years has been the "go" in ready, set, go and in the last few days he started copying his brother saying "Oh, no!". But this. This was BIG.
To be completely honest, I think the last thing I would have heard Kahler say was the "gah, gah" babble at six months old, if it were not for his brother. The only things Kahler has ever said has been things that Colfax has said first. The only time Kahler has ever given me a kiss (shoving his forehead into my face) was when I asked it of his brother and his brother was not in the mood. Kahler took it upon himself to realize that Mama wanted a kiss and dammit she was going to get one!
I have never seen myself as a successful mother. Sure, most people say how good of a mother I am and I shrug it off as just something other people say when they don't know what to say when confronted with the daily challenges a mother faces in my situation. Not me. A good mom to me was my mother. Home with us kids. Had a clean house, and I mean CLEAN. A place for everything and everything in it's place. Doing laundry, dishes, helping with homework, cooking dinners, etc. She was always there when we got home from school to when we went to bed. I, on the other hand, have a difficult time being like that. First and foremost, I don't cook. I've never been good at it and usually when faced with something that I have no talent for, I give it up. I try to keep a clean house, but usually fail except when I get a wild hair up my ass and am in the mood for some elbow grease. DC does the laundry and when it's done, it sits in bins for days until I have the energy to fold it and then it sits in the bins, folded, until we run out of clothes. I don't remember the last time I used the boys' dressers. I am usually so fatigued that I cannot get down on the floor and play with my boys. Most days are spent inside the house watching movies, listening to music and giving lots of love in the form of kisses, hugs, and the occasional nap together.
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| Dinner's ready. |
So, not the typical successful mother. But one hour ago, that changed for me. My son SPOKE. And of all the things he could have said in response, he chose my name. I have waited his whole life to hear that. It made me realize that if my son loves me, is happy, and has even the littlest bit of progress, in his eyes, I am a success. And that is all the reassurance I will ever need.
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