The Boy That Does Not Talk (part two).

Have you ever had one of those moments where something that you think or feel, something so deep seeded and ingrain in your layers, comes up and punches you in the face (figuratively speaking)? This just happened to me and it has left me a little breathless. 

I have meaning to write this post for a few weeks now, something that I have so wanted to share and express. I find blogging is a great way for me to explore my deeper thoughts, it is a way for them to get out, it is a way for me to actually see them, feel them and hear them. I guess I have been avoiding it, I just didn't know what to say. 

About eight weeks ago we go some very exciting and heartbreaking news about our beautiful Willow. My darling baby boy, suffers from a very common condition called Verbal Dyspraxia. Many of you who followed along with my old blog would know that my three and a half year old son does not talk.  Finally it had a name, finally I knew that we were not alone. For me, it is the hardest bloody thing I have had to deal with as a mother. Having a child that cannot talk has all but destroyed my heart and soul and rebuilt it again. Every single morning and every single night, I look into his beautiful blue eyes and wonder if today will be the day that he says something new, perhaps even two or three words. I cry and scream internal tears even hour of every day. I have blamed myself, I have blamed everything and everyone but I have learnt to not blame and to just embrace. I still weep all. the. time. I recoil with shame some days - like I am the one who has caused this and I should punish myself. I have felt the shame when I take my son to the playground. I have cancelled playmates for fear of questions, for fear of looking like a bad parent, a parent that does not know how to parent. I take a lot of things to heart, I am a sensitive soul. I worry, I care, I over think, I over analyse.

Keith and I were just channel surfing and story came on 60 Minutes about autistic children and the breakthrough they have had with the use of iPads. Within thirty seconds of this story starting, the silent tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. A beautiful 9 year old girl who cannot talk was having a conversation with her mother via the use of an app on her iPad. I couldn't help myself, I wept, uncontrollably. I looked over to Keith and I could see those same tears in his eyes. My beautiful boy does not suffer from autism but sometimes I feel that maybe he does. We have had all of the tests, we have had all of the assessments and all of the checks but a part of my heart aches and feels that maybe he does. We have used the iPad a lot with Will, it is a fantastic educational tool for children that have difficulties communication and it is a brilliant way for him to learn. I could not help but weep when I saw these beautiful children, the joy on their faces. I miss my boy, I cry for the beautiful smart and gentle boy that he is, I cry for the beautiful talkative boy that he could be. 

I want to be the best mother I can be. I want my children to be proud of me. I want to to the right thing. I want to stop worrying so much. I want to be guided in the right direction. I feel that sometimes my blogging can be a little emotional and I really hope that I do not come across as someone who is struggling, only as much as a mother can, I guess. I am so grateful to be inspired by all of you, whoever you are. Thank you, for more than you know.