When You’re The Mum Of A Toddler Who Isn’t Talking Yet.

You know that mum. Maybe you’ve been that mum — that mum at the playground, the museum, the grocery store, the library story time, or at the restaurant. You see another toddler roughly the same size as your own. You watch them. You listen to them. You wonder if they’re talking yet. You see how many words you can understand. You then casually start talking to the parent.

Carefully, you steer the conversation to the ages of the kids. You hope that if they are talking, they are much older than your child — your child, the one who isn’t saying any words yet.

Inevitably, most toddlers at this age and younger are already saying words. And once again, you’re confronted with the fact that your toddler doesn’t talk yet.

At least, that’s me.

I have a 3 year old boy, Theo, who is full of life, energy, curiosity, and love. We live in a town of roughly 49,000. Our interactions with other kids come from playgroups, the park/soft play, nursery and the library. On a recent trip to visit paultons park, we found ourselves surrounded by toddlers(duh).

So I began to look and listen carefully.

Everywhere we went, I was confronted by other toddlers’ words. At the playground, they yelled, “Watch me! Slide! Swing!” At story time, they answered the librarian’s questions about the animals they saw on the page. At the walking trail, they yelled, “Look, water!” At the museum, they held a toy and yelled “Mine!”

And with each word, I could hear my child’s silence.

From the beginning, my friends have reminded me that babies and toddlers don’t read the books on parenting and development. They do what they need to do when they’re ready. Theo didn’t crawl until he was a year old, which seemed like a lifetime — especially when you see Facebook movies and pictures of your friends’ babies crawling up and down the hallways.

Now, talking, or the lack of his talking, feels more personal. It feels like there’s more blame to be placed, especially for this mother who loves words and stories. It feels like I should have read one more book to him at night, like I should have taught him sign language earlier, like I should have brought him to more toddler activities, like I should have sat on the floor and talked with him more. And on and on and on — until I forget to look at my son, to look at him now and really see him, to watch him and be present with him at each precious moment.

You see, I found that with all my attention to his lack of words, I failed to notice what my son actually is doing.

Concentrating on what he’s not doing, I forget to see this beautiful, unique, and special gift right in front of me.

It’s not easy, I admit it. I want him to talk. I want to hear him call me “Mama.” I want to know his voice and tone and how he’ll name this world.

But while I don’t hear his words, I see so much. I see him hugging and loving his dog and cats. I see him reaching for his books every morning when he wakes. I see him reading his books, turning the pages and laughing. I see him run forward during story time, hands raised to reach the book. I see him walk to another toddler to play. I see him run to the door when I announce it’s time to go outside. I see him cheer for his daddy when we visit at work or when he comes home. I see him wave(if you are one of his special people or he wants to). I see him pick up a leaf or stick to study it. I see him watching the world, the people, in such awe and amazement his whole body shakes with excitement. I see him get joy from being silly and making others laugh. I see his body wrapped around me in a full embrace.

I see. I see. I see — so much.

When I turn my attention away from what he’s not doing, I open my eyes to so much more — to all the things that he is doing, to all the ways he is living. I open my eyes to this precious gift, full of wonder and curiosity.

I still wonder the ages of other toddlers. I still listen longingly to their voices and words. I’m still waiting with anticipation for Theo to speak.

But until then, I’ll keep looking at him and seeing him.