I tell myself on a daily basis that Cooper might not talk. I have too…for me. (This is one of my freak out posts.)
I am pretty sure it is a defense mechanism. I have even started saying it to my parents. It’s like I almost need to shock them or something. But not to be mean or hurtful. I need them to get it.
I need them to understand that this is really, really serious. On a scale of 1 to Oh My God this is Oh My God plus one. This isn’t a speech delay. This isn’t a little boy that doesn’t want to talk. This is a little boy who might never be able to speak.
We might never hear his voice. He might never say I love you or mom or Sawyer.
Cooper will make one noise and my mom will inevitably say, “see Katie, he is going to be fine.” And then I get mad. Or my dad will say, “if he could just get one word out it will all start to come.”
They don’t understand that he can’t talk. I want to scream it even as I type this. Cooper can’t talk and he might not ever be able too. There. I said it.
My heart is broken because my son might never talk. His life will most likely be different. It will be hard. It will be a challenge. He isn’t fine. I’m not fine. Why don’t they get it.
My husband says that I need to stop doing to myself but I can’t stop. I have to be prepared for the worst. I have to be prepared for the teasing and bullying. For the never-ending appointments. For the tears and loneliness because other kids won’t play with him because he is different. For the way it will change me and change my marriage. I need to prepare. If I am prepared I can tackle it better.
I just need someone to do the worrying for me for a while. Just give me a break from all this.
Ok, enough sadness. As my mother says, “why get sad…you just have to get glad again!”