My Love/Hate Relationship with Hope

A few weeks ago Jackson said “dog” during speech therapy.  I think he was mimicking his speech therapist when he said it, which is huge.  That’s how kids start talking, through mimicking.  Yesterday at therapy he said “hi” to his physical therapist when she said it to him.  Today at therapy he said “ba” while playing with a ball and after his speech therapist had said it many times.  Driving home from therapy today I was thinking this over - are these just flukes?  I don’t think so.  Maybe if he had just said “dog” and not anything else I would believe it was a fluke.  But I really feel like maybe he is starting to talk a little.  And that scares me.  Not that he is starting to talk, that’s not scary, that’s amazing.  It’s that I am starting to hope for it.  The honest to god truth is that I resigned myself to believing he would never talk.  It’s hard to admit because I feel like a horrible mother for not believing my child could do something.  It’s true though.  I didn’t think he would talk.  So many kids with PMG don’t talk and somewhere along the road I put him in that group of kids.  I had given up hope.  Which, quite frankly, is easier for me to do than holding on to hope.  Holding on to hope is scary and potentially devastating.  I’ve been devastated enough lately (2010 sucks) and have been feeling kind of wounded.  So instead of hoping I just assume the worst.  I think one of those fancy shrinks would probably tell me what I’m doing is called self preservation.  I’m protecting myself from being hurt.  Perhaps.  But I’m also hurting myself because it makes me afraid to want things for Jackson.  How do I get myself out of this mess?  I truly don’t know.  You have any ideas for me?  I have a feeling this may be a battle and struggle for me for a long time.  I want so many things for my beautiful little boy, and I will do whatever it takes to give him the best shot at leading a happy, fulfilling life.  To do that I am going to need to believe he can do anything and support him endlessly.  And to do that, I am going to have to have a little hope.  Stupid hope.  I suppose this is something all moms go through, wanting to believe but afraid of being shut down.  As I sit here writing, I can feel it inching its way into my body now, hope that Jackson is going to talk and I will someday get to hear him say “Mommy” or even better “I love you”.  I guess the only thing to do is embrace it and take that leap.  So hello hope, please don’t let me down.  Please let Jackson talk.