When my oldest son was three years old, he didn’t speak much. It wasn’t a huge concern at the time because both his dad and great-uncle were late talkers, as was Albert Einstein, so he had that going for him.
As he grew, his speech was still minimal, so we started therapy three times a week in an attempt to catch him up. Anyone who has a child with delays knows that armchair therapists, teachers, and outspoken, out-of-line people will all offer their opinions of your child. They’ll make assumptions based on five-minute interactions that in their minds, give them the right to speak up and diagnose your child with a whole slew of things. And 95% of the time, they will be wrong.
During a preschool parent conference when he was four, I had a teacher tell me she believed something was seriously wrong with my son, something he wouldn’t grow out of, something that was going to be a lifelong disability. I broke down sobbing in the conference. I physically and mentally crumbled. I looked down at the primary-colored alphabet rug under my feet, trying to remind myself to breathe. In an instant, my hopes for what he may become were crushed.
From the day our kids are born we, as moms, begin fantasizing about their future. As a baby, my son used to smile when I’d recite Dr. Seuss, so I was convinced he’d be a poet. He used to love flipping light switches. Boom!—he was going to be an electrician. He loved stacking blocks, so he must have a future career as an engineer, right? Our mommy minds go places as we dream. It’s probably a side effect of sleep deprivation and intense love. Hopes and dreams are such huge motivating factors in parenthood. We work hard to provide our kids with the best lives possible.
Seated in that tiny green chair across from that teacher, all my hopes for my child disappeared. They were replaced with all-consuming worry: Will he be bullied? Will he ever live independently? Will he ever get to experience true love or fatherhood? Each internal question brought more tears and punches to my gut.
These thoughts filled me with extreme sadness, and I went home and bawled my eyes out for the remainder of the day. I sat there looking at my beautiful, blue-eyed boy, knowing in my heart there was no possible way this teacher was right. Her millions of degrees and certificates couldn’t possibly compare to my mama gut, that strong intuition that told me everything would eventually be OK with him. And after a while, my sadness turned to frustration, because I knew deep down in my heart that he was going to be just fine. As moms, we often begin to feel crazy when someone suggests something about our kids that we know not to be true. We can be seen as in denial, and oftentimes, you begin to believe it and question yourself.
The following morning, with eyes swollen from sadness and an achy heart, I went grocery shopping with my little guy. As we approached the register to pay, I noticed our checker had a severe speech impediment. He greeted us with the biggest smile and said, “Hi! How are you guys this morning?” It took me listening a little harder, like speaking with someone with a thick accident, but I was able to carry on a great conversation with him. He was tall with an athletic build, probably 22 or 23 years old. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, j
ust like my little man. He was smart, charismatic, and happy. He had a wonderful, jovial laugh. I stood there, swiping my credit card with my eyes welling up once again, but this time because I felt a spiritual presence.
I felt a God wink, which is a special moment of coincidence that feels divine, almost like a prayer in your thoughts has been answered, or that guidance is being given from a higher power.
In that moment, God was not telling me, but showing me, that the worries flipping around in my stomach were absurd. God was showing me that my little boy would grow up to be a happy member of society, even if his speech issues never faded. He would find joy on his own terms, not what I conjured up in the middle of the night while rocking him.
That grocer helping us that day was no accident. And along with giving me comfort, God’s wink also reaffirmed for me to trust my gut when my children are concerned. It’s something I continue to do today, and I am happy to say my son is well into elementary school and thriving.
So the next time you’re given a suggestion regarding your child’s welfare and it doesn’t feel right, don’t doubt yourself. Instead, home in on your intuition and trust that guidance from within.
