I was reading some mom websites today- moms of autistic kids... kinda started out with one from one of my commenters and (as usual) one mom blog led to another. As I read about their struggles, I reflected back on the first time my son gave me a hug. I'm not talking about the first time he ever snuggled with me, or the first time he held me (he was always a snuggler when sleepy or nursing). But the first time he purposely threw his little arms around me and gave me a big hug.
I was sitting in church, few years back, thinking how unfair it was. Someone up ahead had just been kissed by their six month old. Kissed. I didn't even know six month olds could kiss. I'd never been kissed my son. Never been hugged by him. I looked at my friend trying to restrain her 16 year old autistic son. Is that what the future holds for me?
As if on cue, my son perked up, wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled into my neck. He was almost two years old. I cried for the rest of the service. And about a year later I would hear "I love you." Even though it was simply a mimicked response it was still sweet music to my ears.
How I cherish the little victories...