The first time she called me Mama

My shoulders feel heavy. My arms are worn out. I am chatting with my husband in the kitchen as we unpack the groceries I just got home with. After being up in the middle of the night with our three-year-old I was thrilled with going grocery shopping alone. I will take a break wherever and whenever.

Our youngest has autism and is non-verbal. Her diagnosis came with relief and apprehension. There are no guarantees what she will accomplish through her therapy. We can only wait and hope withholding our own expectations. It is possible that her night wake-ups are triggered by her wiring. We are waiting for genetic results to find more answers to help her progress. She is a great daughter. I feel like I am not doing enough.

After being told by three doctors I could not have children due to medical issues, I did not expect to get pregnant once, let alone twice. Both our girls teach us that they are different, yet the same. We are honored to be their parents. Every day I long to share them with my mom despite the fact that she died over 27 years ago.

I am about to turn around and leave the kitchen when my darling three-year–old finds me and lifts her arms to indicate she wants up. I oblige her despite my tired arms. She gives me a bear hug and says, ‘Mama.’ My stunned heart does not know what to do. My husband confirms that I did hear what she just said. My heart and soul fill with happy tears. It is the best belated Mother’s Day gift ever to hear her call me mama after all this time.

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