The Speech Thing
I’ve been a bit reticent to post about this, but I’ll let you in on a bit of a secret. Oscar has been talking. Well, sort of. He uses some words every once in a while. He has a vocabulary of about a dozen words now, including ball, bubble, bowl, up, hot, help, out, hat and apple. Most of the time he uses them it’s almost involuntary (i.e., he sees a ball and yells “ball”), but it’s still cause for celebration whenever it happens. He’s still not really using words volitionally (i.e., to tell me what he wants) very often, although on Saturday I almost fainted when he shoved his milk at me and said “hot”, meaning put some ice in this milk before you burn my tongue off, mom. It was the first time he had used words to actually convey an actual concept to me.
You’re probably sensing a lack of enthusiasm from me. Okay, you caught me. I don’t know if I was expecting some major language explosion or breakthrough when we started our three a week speech therapy sessions. I wasn’t letting myself think there was going to be some seminal moment when the floodgates broke and Oscar started talking, telling me everything he hadn’t been able to communicate before then. But you know how it is. You might not let yourself actively think something, but it’s there in the back of your mind. The other reason for my hesitation is that our speech therapist has planted another seed in my mind, and it’s called “apraxia.” Google it and you’ll find it’s not a happy word.
When Oscar was evaluated by oh so many therapists and doctors last summer they explained the difference between a speech delay and a speech disorder to me. They didn’t wrap it all up in a pretty bow and name it officially at that time, but they told me that his delay was likely caused by a disorder (meaning that he wasn’t just a “late talker”). I, like I do when anyone tells me something distressing about my boy (anyone remember my ability to ignore the fact that Oscar’s opthamologist was actually a neurologist for six months?), kind of ignored this label, thinking that they’d change their minds once the SLP flipped on whatever speech switch she knew how to trigger. Yes, I was hoping for some tricks or tools of the trade to be implemented. No, there haven’t been any.*
I guess what I’m finding is that there is not going to be an easy answer to this problem. Oscar has a definite issue getting his words out of his mouth. I can see it when he attempts to tell me something, and then just stops. I don’t know if it really is apraxia, but it’s more complicated than I had hoped. Before this fall I never had thought about all of the processes that have to occur simply to communicate, but a lot has to happen to convey a thought. And, if your brain did not have a chance to fully develop the nerves that link your right and left hemispheres together because of abject neglect for the first eight months of life, the ramifications can be pretty severe.
The upside of all of this therapy is that I have a better sense of what we need to do to help Oscar along. We’re also getting him to communicate more using sign language. He’s a signing machine these days. He “talks” throughout the day, but he really uses signs most of the day in order to get his thoughts across, like when he signs monkey he either wants a Curious George gummy candy (monkey candy) or to go for a walk (using his monkey backpack/leash). Every day he’ll say maybe one or two words, but that’s pretty much it. I’m not letting myself even go down the path yet that sign language will be his primary method of communication, but I know that possibility is out there, lurking.
I know some of you think that writing about these things is wrong. That I should keep matters like this private. To some (teensy tiny) degree I agree with you, but much like I did when I chose to write about my attachment issues, I think there are a lot more people dealing with developmental delays and the like than I had previously thought. I wish I had more to read about this than just the books I have to buy. That I could see it from the perspective of other moms in my situation. I hear the same sentiment in the email messages and the comments that parents post and ask to be kept unpublished. I also just don’t see that there is any reason to pretend this is not happening. I’m not ashamed of the fact that Oscar has a neurological issue that has caused this problem. I’m angry about the root of it, but I’m not ashamed of him or embarrassed of the subject matter. It’s just something else about him that makes him that much more unique.
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*For those of you with kids with sensory issues, one quite cool thing that our SLP uses is a plastic bin with either dried beans or a mix of lentils and rice for Oscar to play in. Oscar had some pretty severe sensory issues when we first met, and I actually had thought we had conquered them (wrong – he used to be avoidant and now is seeking). The amazing thing about these beans / rice / lentils is that they have somewhat of a calming effect on some kids. The first time she brought them out, Oscar went from running wild around his room, refusing to focus, to sitting quietly and playing with the beans. She whispered to me that sometimes kids actually sit in the bin and while she was saying it (and he could not have heard her) he sat down in them. He went from being his active little self to a calmer child instantly, and he started babbling after having been silent for hours. Don’t know how or why it works, but it does. We bought a big Tupperware container to house our beans that weekend.
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