I come from a family that is quite big on public displays of affection. The thing is, I was never really comfortable with that. I have been told on more than one occasion that I wasn’t a cuddly baby. When anyone tried to sit me on their knee, I would fight and say, “Down, down…” I remember feeling uncomfortable at being forced to kiss my aunt, and family parties filled me with dread. My grandad bucked the trend, too, and flatly refused to kiss anyone. He hated it!
It came as a huge surprise to unaffectionate me when my older son was born that I had this overwhelming need to smother his tiny face, arms and legs with kisses, smiling happily while listening to his squeals of delight.
We kept up the family traditions of kissing goodbye and goodnight to relatives, but my son always presented his head for kissing rather than his lips. He never clung onto me when I lifted him up. He would happily run off at playgroup without a second glance to where Mummy was. I always knew he loved me; he just didn’t have the need to grasp my leg or wrap his arms around my neck to show it.
My younger son was different. He clung to me like a baby monkey and curled up on my knee, seeking affection. He smothered me with kisses and sought closeness, staring into my soul with his huge brown eyes.
When my older son was diagnosed with autism, some things made more sense. His over-sensitivity to smell means he knows what you ate or drank an hour ago. His over-sensitivity to touch means the stubble on his uncle’s chin feels like sandpaper on his cheek. Close proximity makes him feel stressed instead of feel loved.
I know my eldest son loves me — he just shows it in a million tiny ways. I don’t feel sadness, regret or lacking in anything. It is simply who he is. I get it… But I also get how it can look to others.
I have been accused of showing favouritism to my youngest son. I have been told. “He likes cuddles too.” And not by strangers.
I want to set the record straight. I don’t kiss my son because I love him. I don’t kiss him because it doesn’t make him feel good. I go against every fiber of my being, every feeling that courses through my body when I look at him with immense pride, affection and love because he doesn’t want it.
Why force unwanted affection on him? To make yourself feel better?
I don’t confuse affection with love. But I do tell him a million times a day that I love him.
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