“I Love You, Too”

Posted on | June 10, 2013 | 8 Comments

When my son leaves for visitation weekend, a part of me dies for a few days. I go through the motions, I live and laugh and do all the things I normally do… but part of me is missing.  If your child has ever gone away for a while, you know what I mean. You’re whole, but you’re not quite whole.

Yesterday afternoon, I drove about an hour north to meet my ex-in-laws at our designated “pick up point” and wrapped my arms around my son.  He was bigger… he always is after a weekend away… and, as always after time away, he had a ton to say about, well… everything. We talked the whole way home and then more at dinner.  We chatted through the same episode of Henry Hugglemonster three separate times.  We chatted through bath time and most of bedtime and just when I thought he was asleep, I whispered across the room:

“I’m so glad you’re home, buddy.”

It was soft, the words floating lightly on the air and I didn’t expect he would hear them, I just needed to say them.  In the half-second that followed, with the whirr of the ceiling fan attempting to blot out the words, he exhaled a soft, almost imperceptible reply:

“I love you, too, Mommy.”

The smile on my face could have lit the house.  I knew he couldn’t hear my words, couldn’t run them through the portion of his mind that processed thoughts and words and sentences.  He was so close to sleep that his breathing was slow and drowsy and his words poured out like syrup in the room.  He couldn’t possibly have heard what I said, or he would have responded with something like “Me too” or his standard “I missed you when you were away.” He couldn’t hear my words…

But he knew what I was saying.

He heard the rise and fall of my voice and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I must be telling him I loved him. Because I do.  Because I do so very much. And though I had thought of slipping out and catching up on television or reading or maybe laundry, I padded back to the space beside of him and curled up for sleep.  I’m doing something right.  I’m doing something so very very right.

Because even when I’m not saying it, he’s hearing that I love him.

 

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  • Cathy

    I’m almost mad that you posted this because I am SO CRYING (and I think I looked cute today). :) That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard! So so sweet!

    • Law Momma

      Oh no! No crying!

  • Maija @ Maija’s Mommy Moments

    I LOVE this! It’s the epitome of what I want to be as a mom – to say, do and be all the things that let’s them know without a shadow of a doubt that no matter what/despite all things I love them always, forever, without exception. Clearly J knows this of you too.

    • Law Momma

      Thank you!! It was such a warm, feel good moment. You’re right… it’s what we strive for.

  • Lola M.

    Amazing how they just know … thank you!

    • Law Momma

      It was a great moment. :)

  • http://unintentionallybrilliant.blogspot.com Roxanne Piskel

    So beautiful. And sweet. Such love.

  • chelsea

    Exactly! I feel the same way and do the same things when my son leaves for a weekend at his dads and I have had the same experience of “I love you too” said in his sleep. There is nothing better! Thank you for sharing.

  • Creative Commons License
    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
    Based on a work at http://www.law-momma.com.



  • I'm a divorced, single mom to a pre-schooler, a full-time attorney, and a semi-reluctant vegetarian. I work hard and when given the chance, I play hard... but I'm almost never given the chance.

    It's possible that I never outgrew 7th grade mentality, as I still laugh when anyone says anything that can be remotely construed as sexual. Let's face it, if you're not down with "That's what s/he said" at the end of almost any sentence, we're probably not going to get along all that well.

    I drink more than I should, I run more than I should, and I laugh as much as I can. So I'm pretty much winning at life.

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