Dear Parker,
Today was quite the day for you. You started learning how to climb up the stairs. It was hard work. You were a such trooper too. Right until you had had enough and let us know it by looking your PT straight in the eye and waving ‘Bye-Bye’.
Which actually translated into “Don’t let the door hit you in the butt on your way out, Babe.”
Who needs words with a personality like yours? Your spirit has a way of flowing into the hearts of all those around you. You communicate on a much higher level than those of us stuck in the realm of typical.
I can always count on you to stare me down with the hairy-est eyeball you can muster when I’ve told you we are heading off to a great adventure and we wind up in at the lab for a blood draw.
Resigned to the inevitable, you shake your finger at the nurse; a courtesy warning advising that she has one chance and only one chance to get it right.
Cause you absolutely will bite.
Then when a doctor walks into the room, you sign “Monster!” The doctor always looks at me and your Dad to tell him what you are signing. Each time we shrug our shoulders in a hurry to change the subject while wondering where in the heck do you get this stuff from?
I’m pretty sure that the doctors always know that somehow the jokes on them. The sparkle and pride in mine and your dad’s eyes is a bit of a giveaway.
As is our poorly contained laughter.
I love it when you stand on still wobbly legs, and take cautious steps towards me. Then with unwavering faith, you reach out your hand, knowing you can count on me to help you the rest of the way.
Your eyes speak of your willingness to put forth your best effort, certain that I will be here for you until you are strong enough to finish the journey on your own.
I believe that one day you will be right there with your older brothers and sisters vying for everyone’s attention in the latest family debate conversation. You’ll be shouting your words right along with the rest of them. And boy, can our family shout.
But until then I’m going to savor our heart to hearts. With meaning being felt rather than heard.
I’m so very proud of you.
Love,
Mom
You can also find Tammy and Parker hanging out at their other blog: Praying For Parker.
[...] Parker and I are sharing our Conversations Without Words at today’s 5 Minutes For Special Needs.com [...]
so aptly stated. we have those kind of conversations with our non-verbal son too. and i know there is so much more going on in his brain than anyone knows!
Aw, Tammy, that was beautiful. Like you and Gail, I have many conversations like that with Max, too.
Gail and Ellen,
It’s nice to know that other Moms cherish these types of ‘heart to hearts.’
How funny to come here and find a post like this…It must be on the minds of many moms with non-verbal kiddos lately as I too pounded out our version in the wee hours of Tuesday mornin’….
Honestly, I didn’t think much of it as I chronicled our day. It is just a normal thing for us afterall…
I talk he smiles…I acknowledge and he responds in his own way silently yet I understand…
And no matter how normal it seems to us, to the outside world its amazing, interesting, miraculous and so much more as evidenced by my overflowing mail box stuffed with heart felt messages from those who took the time because they were touched in some way.
Funny how I never know what will spark that incoming flow and funnier still how a conversation between a mother and her silent son could tickle the heart strings of so many…..
So glad to see the masses all around from our little spot in the Jungle to Parkers and all those in between feel the same way :0)
Have a good one!
Trina and Jophie
awwwww – what a wonderful post Tammy!!! Love it! WTG Parky on those stairs – keep up the hard work and you will find a whole new world to destroy – er – discover!!!
Awww, what a wonderful post Tammy! I can certainly relate with my brother
. We understand each other completely perfect and have the greatest laughs & times together.
Qadoshyah