Friday, August 6, 2010
It's often the simple interactions that I long for with Finleigh. I can live with her not talking yet because I really do believe that she will one day be able to carry on a conversation with me. That will just take much patience. At least this is what I hope and pray.
Though I do wonder sometimes, even when she does talk, will she be able to communicate her emotions effectively with me?
She does show me love. She hugs me and kisses me and snuggles me when she's looking for affection. And when she's feeling happy or sad. She "woohoo's" and jumps around when she's excited. She sings when she wants to. She helps and follows simple directions. These she does on her own. On her own terms. If she wants. When she wants.
As a parent, you learn to adapt to your child. You interact with them as you need to to get through the day. But sometimes, you have a moment of sadness. Of loss. Of wishing that your child would just allow you to celebrate with her when she has a small victory.
Like this morning. Finleigh had gotten into the bathroom upstairs and had managed to spread toothpaste all over herself. As I was cleaning her up, she pointed to her eye as she looked in the mirror and said, "Eye. Eye." I smiled at her and said, "You're right Finleigh, that's your eye!"
A simple enough exchange. One that would usually elicit a prideful clap or smile from a child learning to talk.
Instead, it turned into a full blown tantrum. She did not like what I had to say. My encouragement seemed to be a discouragement or painful thing to her. The way I would naturally show my daughter love is not often allowed in our relationship.
And that, sometimes - when my guard is down and I allow myself to think what could have been - breaks my heart.