He didn’t really start saying “Mommy” or “Mom” until he was about 7-8 years old. The jokes about the little kids who never stop saying “Mom Mom Mom Mom” don’t resonate with me, because I would have given anything to hear him say “Mom” even once at that age.
Raising Noah has been a different experience than most moms have. I don’t say that to mean it’s been terrible… just different. We haven’t had playdates with other moms and kids, really.
I think people assume that they know what Noah can and can’t handle, or what I can and can’t do. Instead of offering an invitation and allowing us to decide if we can come, we just don’t get invited. Or if we’re invited and have to turn them down once, we don’t get invited again.
As Noah’s mom, I want to make his path easy and smooth. I want him to do well in school and make friends. I want him to be welcomed, as he is and with his needs, wherever we go – whether that is school or church or out in the community.
I want Noah to be loved. Because while he may have taken a long time to say “Mom,” one thing I’ve never doubted is his love for me and for the other people in his life. And he deserves to be loved in return.
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.
(1 Corinthians 13:4-7, The Message)