I love talking to small children, particularly preschool age. I love their stories, their funny words, their unique view on life. I relish their communications. Talking with small children also makes me grieve because I feel a sense of loss--I've missed out on this part of N's life and I grieve the loss. While I find joy in visiting with other children, it is a painful reminder of where N would be if his development were different. At the same time I feel a joy and satisfaction in the communication we do have. N has taught me a different, more subtle approach to communication that I have learned to value. I love our snuggles, the looks into his eyes as I try to decipher his communication with me, his smiles, the great sense of joy that permeates his being and how it affects the people around him. I also feel a deep sadness that he cannot communicate this love and sense of life to everyone in his life--the communication is too subtle for many people. I feel sad when I sense that people can't sense the strong, intelligent spirit in N that I know because he lacks the communication skills. I am excited for his speech to improve. There are so many things about N that I want to understand better. I also realize and feel a little heartbroken at the realization that speech and communication will always be a little different for N than it will be with the rest of the world. I don't feel sad for N, but for the world who may not understand him. I fear sending him into a world that does not value his deep compassion, intelligence, and learning style. It frustrates me to see people misinterpret him because they only hear what comes out of his mouth and they cannot decipher it. I hate the hollow look I see in his eyes when he can't make himself understood without help. I hate when this makes him physically withdraw. I love his dear friends who make him feel included and don't acknowledge his obvious deficiencies. I love the reassurance of the power and influence of the immediate family on N's self confidence. N knows his family loves, values, and understands him and his talents even if others cannot. I love how all my children are sensitive and compassionate to other people around them because of this experience. I rejoice when people come to me as Sister Shelton did a couple of weeks ago and say things such as, "I've never got to spend time with N before...he is so fun and sweet and happy." The real truth is that as sad as I feel at times I would never change N. I want him to be able to communicate but I don't want him to change. If I found out that he would always be this way part of me would grieve but most of me would rejoice. N has taught me not only new communication skills and greater empathy and compassion but also an increased reliance on the Lord and a greater sense and appreciation for what is really important to me.