My son, Oliver, is five years old. He’s playful and sensitive, thoughtful and cautious. As my eldest child, he holds a special place in my heart. I express my love for him frequently—every morning, before he leaves for school, at bedtime, and often throughout the day. Yet, I can count the moments he has reciprocated those words on one hand.
Normally, this lack of verbal affirmation doesn’t trouble me. I am confident of his affection; his face lights up, and he joyfully exclaims “Mommy!” whenever we reunite after even a brief separation. In moments of fear or sadness, he instinctively seeks my hand. He creates intricate drawings filled with monsters, hearts, and galaxies. He confides in me.
However, there are times when I deeply long to hear him say “I love you.”
A Difficult Phase
About a year ago, around the time his sister, Lily, was born, Oliver entered a phase where he would declare, “I hate you.” The first time he said it felt like a knife to my heart. I calmly explained that such words carry weight and can hurt feelings. He seemed to grasp the concept.
A few days later, while we were driving home from school, he expressed his desire to use some nail polish that was a gift for Lily. I informed him that he would need to ask her first. From the backseat, I heard him mumble something, followed by a clear, “I hate you.” We had just pulled into the driveway, and without a word, I opened the doors, unbuckled the kids, handed the baby to my partner, and retreated to our room, where I sobbed uncontrollably. I felt as if I was pouring out love and care—feeding, nurturing, bringing life into the world. I didn’t require a “thank you” or “I love you,” but to hear “I hate you”? That was hard to bear.
Eventually, I composed myself and ventured back downstairs, ready to discuss the incident with Oliver. But seeing him again brought fresh waves of emotion. Tears streamed down my face, alarming him. “I’m sorry!” he cried. “Please don’t cry!” Yet, what I truly needed was for him to acknowledge his love for me.
Moments of Realization
Days later, after tucking him into bed, he said, “Mommy, I made a mistake. When I said I hated you, that was wrong.” I reassured him that I understood. Although he stopped saying “I hate you,” the phrase “I love you” remained elusive. In contrast, Lily freely expresses her affection, often exclaiming how much she loves me or others. Once, at bedtime, she spontaneously declared her love for a family member. Oliver, however, expressed uncertainty, saying, “I don’t know if I love them.” Love is complex. How does one articulate it? Oliver is a logical thinker who ponders deeply; what does love even mean?
I thought I had come to terms with his reluctance for verbal affirmation until a recent Monday. Typically, my partner drops off Lily at school while I take Oliver, as their schools are in opposite directions. On this particular morning, as we pulled out of the driveway, we saw Lily’s face pressed against the window, tears streaming down her cheeks. I remarked to Oliver, “She’s feeling really sad. It’s tough for her when Daddy drops her off.” He replied, “I like Daddy,” followed by, “I like Daddy more than you.” Ouch.
I responded gently, “That’s not very nice; it hurts my feelings.” He quickly became flustered and said, “I mean, I don’t know. I like both of you. I just don’t know who I like more.” In my head, I thought, “Like? Seriously, like?” and felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that he didn’t know who had given him life. Instead, I calmly replied, “You don’t need to prefer one of us over the other.”
I chose to let it go, but I desperately wanted to hear him say it. Why was this so challenging? He can express love for Ninja Turtles and new crayons but struggles with saying it to me? After a few minutes of silence, I said, “I love you so much. I know you don’t say it often, but I know you love me too.”
I caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. He tilted his head as if to disagree but then looked up, tears brimming in his eyes. He reached out from the back seat, though our hands couldn’t touch. I mirrored his gesture and, quoting a favorite show, joked, “I can’t…reach…you.” We both laughed, and though he didn’t say the words, I felt that he understood. I know he loves me.
Understanding Love
In navigating these emotional complexities, it’s helpful to remember that love can be expressed in many forms. For further insights into parenting and the journey of love, consider exploring additional resources, such as this article on home insemination or this guide on artificial insemination. For those expecting, the World Health Organization offers valuable information.
Conclusion
In summary, the journey of parenting a child who struggles to verbalize affection is filled with ups and downs. While the desire for spoken love is natural, understanding and accepting the various expressions of love can be equally meaningful.