Say My Name, Please Rose.

I have never been able to speak. I was never able to babble as a baby either, though I could hear and understand others who spoke to me. Mum often gets upset with me because she can't understand what I am trying to say to her.

I have never been taught sign language like some of the other girls I know who can't speak, because professionals don't think that I need it.

They tell my mum, she needs to talk to me more so that I can learn to talk.

My name is Rose, and I was adopted by my parents as a baby. My parents are the best in the world. They give me a stable home to grow in, love me, and look after me; they always strive to make sure that I am loved. I am happy here, but I feel sad because I can't verbally say to my parents,

"I love you."

I show my love by buying Mum flowers, and my dad tools for his car. Mum is always flower-arranging. She has a rainbow of flowers in different colors all over the house.

Mum and I were arranging flowers into shapes this morning. I love the intense concentration that I get from helping Mum do this, and I love playing with flowers. It makes me smile, and sometimes it makes me cry because it fills my heart with joy that I can't express in words. I show Mum that I am happy by doing a flower dance by the flower table. Dancing is my favorite way to express happiness, and it always makes my mum smile.

My mum asks me to get a pair of scissors from the table, but I can't find them so I shrug my shoulders and hold my hands out to signal it to her. Mum misreads the signal, she thinks that I am annoyed because she asked me what to do. She pouts her lips, nods her head, and points to the table. I shrug my shoulders and hold my hands out again, but this time I screw up my nose in annoyance. Mum mouths something to me and clicks her fingers. She only ever clicks her fingers when she is annoyed. Tears of frustration roll down my face because I can't make Mum understand what I am telling her.

Mum and I are like this for over an hour, and I feel angry because I can't talk to her. Life would be easier if I could talk. Eventually, I stormed out of the room and went to my bedroom, where I locked my door and cried. Mum comes upstairs five minutes after to find me. I can hear her knocking but I refuse to answer the door. I knocked on the door three times in reply to her, to let her know that I was annoyed and that now was not the time to talk to me.

"Unlock the door, Rose," Mum calls calmly.

I refuse to do it. I put my head on my pillow and cry into it. The soft feathers comfort me, but it won't help me to find my voice.

All the children at my school talk with each other happily. They laugh, make jokes, play games, and they argue then say "sorry."

I feel alienated, left out, and like a shadow to them, because I can't say anything at all. They often leave out of their conversations and games, which makes me feel embarrassed because I can't speak. They also forget that I can hear them when they refer to me as 'dumb.'

I can't confront them because I can't speak, so I hide in the toilets and sit there during breaks. Sometimes, I skip class just to avoid them.

Mum is still outside the door and I don't know what to do. I know that it isn't her fault, but I can't help feeling ashamed and guilty that I have done something wrong. Mum's stern look and finger clicks are often used when I am in trouble, but I couldn't see the scissors, and I had no way of telling her.

I feel frightened that I will be shouted at if I come out of my room.

I can hear Mum crying outside of my room,

"Say my name Rose, please," she pleads with me several times.

Tears well up in my eyes, and I throw my pillow at a wall across the room.

I would say her name if I could!

I have wanted to say her name and tell her in words that I love her, all of my childhood.

Sometimes I think that Mum thinks that I am making it up and that only makes me feel smaller for not being able to speak.

I wish she knew how much I long to be able to tell her about my day and join her and Dad in conversation at the dinner table.

I lower my head into my hands and sigh, then I lift it back up and touch my voice box. I can feel it there. I give it a push, hoping that words come out, but they don't.

Mum must have gone downstairs because it is quiet behind my door. I feel bad that I can't talk to mum and dad. They always misunderstand my signals, but it is the only way I can talk to them.

I didn't mean to get mad with Mum. I was frustrated because she got mad at me after she misunderstood my signals. I wonder if Mum knows of the sadness, shame, and guilt that I feel when I can't talk to her.

I remember that I had some wire, and some dried colored flowers on my desk. I got an idea that will help me to say I love you.

I picked up the wire and carefully twisted it several times so that it formed a heart, then I found some glue inside my dressing table draw and glued the flowers onto my heart. The flowers were a mixture of light blues, reds, creams, and pinks. Once I had finished crafting my masterpiece, I painted a pink arrow in the middle of some black cardboard and glued the heart onto it so that the arrow was positioned in the middle with the arrowheads coming out at each angle of the heart.

I was proud of my creation!

I smiled with tears in my eyes as I held the heart like gold in my hands, and then I tip-toed downstairs where I found Mum sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. I gave her a hug.

"Say my name, please Rose," Mum pleaded with me.

I handed her the heart and held her. I found a notebook with a pen on the kitchen table, and I wrote,

"I love you, mum."

Mum looked me in the eyes. Her eyes were swollen and red with crying. She smiled and said,

"I love you too, Rose."

I still felt sad that I would never be able to talk, and that none of us would ever know why. However, I learned a lesson today.

Love is more than spoken words.