My first child, a boy, was born at a very healthy 10lbs 10oz. He was HUGE! He was the buzz of the hospital nursery. The nurses would laugh and say, “Oh, you’re the mom of the BIG baby!? We had to get diapers from the pediatric floor, because he doesn’t fit in the newborn ones!” So despite the fact that he came home wearing size 3-month clothing, he had a normal babyhood. Until at around 18 months, while playing with some playmates I realized that my son wasn’t saying words like the other boys. They said “mommy, more goose (juice)” and many other simple phrases and words. My son? Nope…sounds, grunts, pointing and showing me what he was talking about. It worked for me! My son did get very frustrated and banged his head sometimes but I still hadn’t quite realized this was a problem Fortunately for me, one of the moms decided to speak to me about her concerns. She suggested that I have him evaluated by Connecticut’s Birth to Three System. Birth to Three’s “mission is to strengthen the capacity of families to meet the developmental and health-related needs of their infants and toddlers.” I was told that they had specialists who would come into my home to evaluate my son for possible speech delay issues. Was I grateful for this kind and caring advice? NO! I was not! Like many new mothers, I was insulted and hurt because I took it personally. I was too insecure to take well meaning advice. It seemed to confirm my own worst fears; I’m a bad mom! I have no idea what I’m doing! I told myself lots of BS. He’s only 2 1/2! He’ll wake up tomorrow morning and say “Good Morning Mother!” in a clipped British accent! Or recite the Gettysburg Address at the dinner table!
Of course, I was in the river in Egypt: Denial!
After I had a week or two to calm down and think about it, I realized that she was absolutely right. No one but me (and sometimes his Dad) could understand him. He got frustrated when I didn’t understand and he couldn’t tell me what he needed or wanted! Poor guy! One morning I was in my room and I heard a quiet thunk,thunk,thunk coming up from the stairs. What was it? It was my son hauling up a gallon of milk step-by-step to show me he wanted a cup of milk. Did I mention how strong he was?
So a short time later, I got over myself and called Birth to Three. They listened to my concerns about my son and his lack of words and sounds. Two lovely therapists came out to my house a week later and spent qitesome time evaluating him. They asked about family history, my pregnancy, labor and delivery and so forth. They were kind and gentle and professional. After reviewing their findings, they determined that he did have Expressive Speech Delay–which is different (and easier to treat) than Receptive Speech Delay (which involves the brain receptors which interpret the spoken word and sounds) . My son had no problem with that, he was able to follow 2 step commands like “take your shoes off and put them by the door.”
Expressive delay is usually due to a deficit/weakening of the fine-motor muscles. So while my son could understand instructions, he couldn’t repeat them. I hadn’t realized that the tongue is a large muscle which is in charge in the formation of sounds; words and sounds. Birth to Three would provide services to our family, and our son was to attend pre-school at the STAR Rubino Center in Norwalk. Their primary focus was to work with children with speech-delay; speech impediments; mutism. I turns out that instead of being a bad mom, I was being too good a mother. I was the interpreter for my son. I understood his “words” and his approximations of language;
The Rubino Center was an answer to prayers. He spent 2 hours, twice a week in the classroom, and he saw an individual speech therapist as well. The goal was to strengthen his tongue and lips. Unlike other kids, he had a fun homework assignment; he had to drink a McDonalds milkshake every couple of days. While it’s not necessarily a healthy choice, but that think liquid going up the straw sure gave his mouth a workout! And a good incentive too!
I think his first word that I understood was “puddle” which he told me after class following a rainstorm. It was my favorite word for a long time.
A few years later, I ran into the mom who had suggested that I have my son evaluated; I apologized for my initial response to her and thanked her warmly for her help in pushing me in the right direction to get him the speech therapy he needed. I described the progress he had made thus far and that I would have waiting much longer had she not intervened. It also helped me realize that the biggest impediment to getting him help was ME! My own ego and my own insecurities, which should have been put aside.
Parenthood Doesn’t Come with GPS 