"Mommy, mommy, mommy."

*stomp stomp stomp*

*scream*

As a mother, I’ve questioned, Why are you not listening to me?

I beg for you to stop stomping and stop screaming.

You pierce my soul with the glare in your eyes as I beg, plead, and even try redirecting.

I can tell there is still a major disconnection.

I can let out a sigh, but not until after I’ve cried.

I hear the specialist say, "Your son is delayed by at least 40%."

Now it’s starting to make sense.

The mom guilt is kicking in for ever being frustrated with him.

A sweet boy filled with emotions, wants, and needs with no way to express them.

How many words does he need?

An infinite amount, so he can tell me anything.

It’s okay, baby, stomp and scream and do what you need to communicate with me.

"Mommy, mommy, mommy."

Sweet boy, mommy, mommy, mommy will always be here, even when you struggle to communicate.

We all bloom in our own time, and it’s just going to take a little extra water and sunlight, but my boy, you will still thrive.

I’ll be here to hold you when you need to stomp, scream, or cry.

We will learn how to sign the words our voice cannot find.

Words will come to you, my sweet boy; you already have a few.

You’ll know one too many way too soon.

It’s barely been a month since June; you’re not delayed; you’re just running behind, taking your precious time.

© princessxjes