The Ache No One Talks About

I never like to admit this, it hurts too much.

Last night, I broke down.
Grief crept in — for the motherhood I imagined and the connection I thought I’d have with Clifford by now.

The day had been hard.
I tried to play with him — he cried, crawled away, shut down. I tried to snuggle with him — he turned his head, uninterested. Every attempt to connect slipped away.

And that’s when the ache in my chest started to rise.

I never like to admit this, it hurts too much. Clifford has never called me “mama,” or looked to me when someone asks where I am. Saying that out loud feels like exposing my deepest heartache — tearing open something I keep tucked away.

Does he know I’m his mom? Does he feel safe with me in a way only a child does with their mom?

I whisper, “Mama’s here. You’re safe,” praying he understands.

There are moments I cling to.
Like when he crawls to me — lifts his arms — rests his head on my chest. Those tiny moments heal a small part of my heart every time.

But the longing doesn’t disappear. It’s hard watching other parents connect so effortlessly — talking, playing, understanding. I want to understand him — what he’s thinking, what he finds funny, what lights up his world. I want connection — the kind that comes so easily for others. Those are the things I yearn for.

And sometimes that longing turns into sadness… then frustration… then guilt. It’s hard wanting something so natural yet feeling like it’s always out of reach.
We’re learning to prepare for a life that might look different. And it’s okay to ache for those moments and be so grateful for the beautiful life you have right in front of you. Grief and gratitude can exist at the same time.

Codey wrapped me up and dried my tears, reminding me of the truth: our story is far from over. Clifford is still growing, still learning, still unfolding. And so are we.
He is my strong in every storm — stepping in and lifting me up when I need it most.

We looked at each other and said what we always do:
“It’s us against the world. We can make it through anything.”

One day, I hope Clifford will run into my arms, sure and certain, knowing exactly who I am.

His mama.
Always have been.
Always will be.