I Have Guilt.

I think some level of guilt at some point in time is probably natural in parenthood. I'm guessing. I'm a first-timer, so I'm certainly no expert. But I think the desire to do well by one's child inevitably leads to guilt over something. Oftentimes, over things out of our control.

Right now, I am experiencing guilt that has not been brought on by anyone else. No one is telling me I'm a bad mommy. No one has chastised me or given me a dressing-down of things I should or shouldn't be doing. But I still have guilt and I don't know how to alleviate it. My kid is less than a month away from his second birthday. He still says very few words. I talk to him. I point things out. I try to take the sounds he does make and hone them into words upon command. (i.e. "What does a dog say?") But I don't know how to make him talk.

I see so many kids around us, many of them younger, speaking so many more words. I hear them speaking clearly and stringing together series of words. I see them respond appropriately to the situation or question asked. I get jealous when I hear parents have conversations and exchanges of ideas with their little ones. I feel like I'm not doing something right and I don't know what it is.

I try. I really do. I point out body parts during bath time, story time, diaper and clothes changing times. I tell him about the wind that's blowing through his hair and the trees. I tell him about the birds he hears in the morning and the pretty smell of flowers while we're on our walks. We listen to music and I sing the alphabet song to him. But he won't point to his nose if I ask him where his nose is. He won't tell me when he's hungry or thirsty or tired or just needs a hug. I know he knows these things. He'll point to a cow in a book. He'll do the puzzles pretty well. But I struggle, worrying that his lack of words is my lack of parenting.

It's not like he's growing up in a silent household where no one ever talks. Nor is he growing up without pauses and silence where he has the opportunity to talk. He makes noises all the time. He makes up tunes and jabbers with inflection. He dances and leads me places he wants to be. He'll bring me his shoes when he wants to go outside or leave the house. But he won't use words. And I don't know how to make him.

I know he's not an idiot. I know he's smart in certain things. I know he's social and fearless. But still, I wonder. Truth be told, tears are falling as I'm typing this. Tears of frustration. Tears of worry. And tears of guilt.