Today, I was absorbing the adorableness of a maybe two-year-old at the Y as she pranced around the lobby in tiny black tap shoes, singing nonsense, when all at once, she took her brown, curly pigtails and zoomed over to her mama, enveloping the woman's knee in the biggest, squeeziest toddler hug that she could muster.
"Love you, Mama!"
I had to pretend serenity, collect my things and head for the restroom as tears gathered in my eyes. I have good days and bad days, like any other SN mom - like any other TODDLER mom - but this morning, I held my breath and shoved the door shut behind me before losing it.
Instead of "I love you" from my son, I got "Tuberous Sclerosis" from his doctor. Instead of, "Mom, can I...Will I...why is...?" I got "masses in the brain...seizures...delays..."
My son cannot verbalize love, and it breaks my heart.
Don't get me wrong, I'm an epic translator of Hamlish, the mash of sounds and grunts and gestures mixed with half-formed toddler talk and repetitive syllables. I KNOW my son loves me. He hugs me often between playing games with his brother, touches my face gently when I'm sad or tired, snuggles me as he winds down to sleep.
In the dark of the night, he scoots closer to me and tucks his giant noggin under my chin.
I know, as a mother, that my son loves me. He doesn't need to say it...
...but reclaiming those stolen words would be nice.