My wife and I have the most amazing little boy. He is only two but already he is smart and funny, caring and generous. We are so blessed to have him in our lives.
Natasha and I suffered for years and years of infertility, and I do not use the word lightly we suffered. Emotionally, physically and financially. For ten years we went to different doctors poured our hearts, money, even our families money and so many hours into starting our family. We did and endured everything you can think of. Countless bottles of vitamins, drugs, hormone therapy, and procedure after procedure but everything seemed to fail.
We were beginning the adoption process and looking into different agencies when we decided to give it one last long shot. We were "all in" as my wife liked to say, so what was one more thing to add to the list, it couldn't hurt, could it? Lo and behold it worked, just over nine months later we had a little boy of our own. He was absolutely perfect. Born April 21, 2017, with dimples just like mine. We immediately fell in love.
Postpartum was so hard on her, she was so disappointed she couldn't breastfeed so she made sure she did everything else. She quit her job, read every book and blog out there she could find. She did every bottle-feeding, every diaper change, wore him around the house like a kangaroo, you name it she did it. She does a wonderful job, and he is absolutely devoted to her ... he just won't call her Mom. No other form of Mom either no "Mama", or "Mommy", or even a "Ma". He calls her "Tata", which we are assuming is short for Natasha.
It is breaking my heart, and it is slowly breaking my wife's heart. I see it in her eyes every time our little man runs at me when I come home from work, shouting "Daddy" as he leaps into my arms. I see her smile fade when my Mother comes to visit and he calls her "Nana". It isn't that he doesn't love Natasha. He cuddles and plays with her, they sing and have adorable dance routines, even inside jokes that crack them both up.
It is just concerning sometimes and I know it bothers her especially if we are playing. Sometimes we will be tossing the ball around or something simple like that and I will go "bring the ball to Mommy", hoping he will run it over to Natasha, but time and time again, he will run straight to the basement door and look back to us smiling. It is the strangest thing, he has always done it and we just can't figure out why.
It is not like he knows that is where we buried her. Karen (I think that was her name), his biological mother. He would have no memory of her at all, he only spent ten minutes downstairs in total once he was born. We immediately brought him up to his new room, in fact, he hasn't been downstairs since, so why does he always run to the door? It is just so weird.
Why won't he just call her Mom?
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Natasha and I suffered for years and years of infertility, and I do not use the word lightly we suffered. Emotionally, physically and financially. For ten years we went to different doctors poured our hearts, money, even our families money and so many hours into starting our family. We did and endured everything you can think of. Countless bottles of vitamins, drugs, hormone therapy, and procedure after procedure but everything seemed to fail.
We were beginning the adoption process and looking into different agencies when we decided to give it one last long shot. We were "all in" as my wife liked to say, so what was one more thing to add to the list, it couldn't hurt, could it? Lo and behold it worked, just over nine months later we had a little boy of our own. He was absolutely perfect. Born April 21, 2017, with dimples just like mine. We immediately fell in love.
Postpartum was so hard on her, she was so disappointed she couldn't breastfeed so she made sure she did everything else. She quit her job, read every book and blog out there she could find. She did every bottle-feeding, every diaper change, wore him around the house like a kangaroo, you name it she did it. She does a wonderful job, and he is absolutely devoted to her ... he just won't call her Mom. No other form of Mom either no "Mama", or "Mommy", or even a "Ma". He calls her "Tata", which we are assuming is short for Natasha.
It is breaking my heart, and it is slowly breaking my wife's heart. I see it in her eyes every time our little man runs at me when I come home from work, shouting "Daddy" as he leaps into my arms. I see her smile fade when my Mother comes to visit and he calls her "Nana". It isn't that he doesn't love Natasha. He cuddles and plays with her, they sing and have adorable dance routines, even inside jokes that crack them both up.
It is just concerning sometimes and I know it bothers her especially if we are playing. Sometimes we will be tossing the ball around or something simple like that and I will go "bring the ball to Mommy", hoping he will run it over to Natasha, but time and time again, he will run straight to the basement door and look back to us smiling. It is the strangest thing, he has always done it and we just can't figure out why.
It is not like he knows that is where we buried her. Karen (I think that was her name), his biological mother. He would have no memory of her at all, he only spent ten minutes downstairs in total once he was born. We immediately brought him up to his new room, in fact, he hasn't been downstairs since, so why does he always run to the door? It is just so weird.
Why won't he just call her Mom?
---
Credits
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