I have a special child. Therefore I am a special mother.
That’s what I always like to remind myself.
Iman, celebrated his 9th birthday last month, on the 3rd.
We were at Bukit Merah Laketown Resort.
Ehem *clearing his throat obviously trying to get all the attention*
Abah belum cakap saya happy birthday.
He started verbal communication when he was about 5. Started with loads of stammering, loads of ‘look-up-in-the-sky’ moments when he tried to assess the vocabulary bank in his mind and uttering somewhat awkward sentences. Well, we all started all things somewhere, don’t we? We fall before we can run.
Iman, now attends a normal school in a normal class. He still have verbal communication issues, which means he still has problems getting messages across, which means he is prone to bully and those nasty words other kids gave him. Problem here means, he needs longer time to construct sentences. He can, but at times he needs longer time. Sometimes, after school he’d tell us that this boy call him names, that boy does that and this. I can’t protect him all the time, I can’t be telling the children out there not to do this and that.
In certain context, at 9, he needs to learn to protect himself and stand for himself.
Abang, you have to be strong.
Orang kata Abang macam-macam, let them be.
Only stupid people call other people stupid
*I suddenly reminded on those times when I silently curse other people. You see, at times I learnt my lessons in a most unexpected way*
Abang buat tak tau je.
Kalau Abang marah-marah, lagi orang tu suka ejek.
Abang be strong okay.
Last week, he lost a pencil that was in an exercise book given by his ustazah mengaji. He searched frantically but to no avail. He came to us with panic written all over his face. A simple message ‘pensil hilang and I need a new one’. I took him minutes after minutes explaining. Sampai berpeluh-berpeluh, trying to translate thoughts into words, trying to catch his breath, all at the same time.
Dah serupa macam sesak nafas.
And I was sesak with emosi.
Each time such incident happens, at night before bed, I can’t help but to ponder upon it, and I am not sure of who should be strong.
He, or me?
Please don’t take this as me complaining. I am merely penning down thought and feelings. Having lived with this for years since he was first diagnosed way back in 2008, we have learnt to welcome and embrace strengths and weaknesses of my children alike (as I have put it in my entry
dear Kakak). We have learnt that every child will bloom eventually, only time will tell.
Iman. Different, but not less.
That’s what I always like to remind myself.
