Praying for Communication

Yesterday, I walked into my living room on a mission. Which isn’t a rare occurrence.

My hands were full. Dirty laundry. Photos. A bag of rocks. A few dozen Pokémon cards.

I was in my own world. To be honest, I believe I was muttering something about how no in my house picks anything up.

And then I heard…

‘M. O. M.’

It still stops me in my tracks.

Cooper saying mom. Cooper saying anything. We have one word right now. After 8 long years.

And it’s absolutely beautiful.

Of course, just like him, he says it in his own way. Like no one else.

3 long drawn out syllables.

M. O. M.

Always with his finger on his lips. He has to move his mouth to make the sound come out. Just like I taught him.

I snapped out of it to see my Cooper sitting on the ground, wrapped in a blanket with six pieces of construction paper spread out.

He loves construction paper right now. Each page is full of drawings of his favorite things. Barney. Pete the Cat. Birthday party. Letters.

He looked right at me and again said,

‘M. O. M.’

And then pointed to his head and said, ‘ow.’

He said it sad like that. Like he was in pain.

So, I asked him. ‘Does your head hurt buddy?’

And plain as day he responded with, ‘yes, ow’ and pointed to his head.

For anyone that lives outside the nonverbal autism world, I want to tell you how huge this is.

Cooper has never told me anything hurts. Not once all the times his ear drums burst from infection. Or after a fall. Or when he battled the severest of constipation. Not even after he had his adenoids out.

Never once.

And to be clear, that doesn’t mean he’s never had pain. That means he’s lived with pain all by himself. In his head. Alone. Because he can’t communicate it.

That kills me.

This is why as his mom I know every inch of Cooper’s body.

I know every bruise. Every scrape. This is why he takes a bath every single night.

I know every bowel movement. I know if his shoes rub his feet wrong. Or if his pants cut into his tummy. I make it my business. Because he can’t tell me.

Until yesterday.

Cooper told me four times that his head hurt after that.

I am seeing so many monumental changes in my boy lately. Communicating pain. Waiting. Attempts to vocalize.  Less yelling. So much calmer. Happier. Successful outings.

His eyes are brighter. We are having conversations. Outings. Giving his brother a high five.

I could go on and on.

These are the things I prayed for.

Also, I’m not concerned about his headache. I think he is having allergies with the change of season.

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