When I was expecting my son, Oliver, I had a vision of motherhood that was filled with laughter and endless conversations. Like many parents, I imagined my home bustling with books and curious questions from my articulate toddler. Fast forward to today, and my life with my precious boy is a stark contrast to that dream.
In the silence that envelops us, I often find myself reflecting on what could have been. My once chatty nature feels muted as I grapple with the reality that my son has Childhood Apraxia of Speech, a condition that hinders his ability to communicate verbally. Despite his keen understanding of the world, Oliver struggles with motor planning, making it difficult for him to coordinate the movements necessary for speech. He is a little boy trapped in his own mind, yearning to express his thoughts and feelings but unable to call out even my name. Instead, he resorts to gestures, pointing, and occasional grunts, which can lead to frustration and tears. Watching him give up on expressing his needs breaks my heart a little more each time.
The outlook for Oliver remains unclear. We’ve consulted numerous specialists, from pediatric neurologists to speech language pathologists, all of whom confirm that his cognitive abilities are above average and that he is not on the autism spectrum—a concern I initially had, as apraxia is often mistaken for ASD. However, the unanswered questions loom large: Will he ever speak? When will that happen? How can we assist his communication? Should we incorporate sign language? (We do!). Is it beneficial to use a communication app on an iPad? How do we approach potty training with a nonverbal child? Will he fit into a regular school, or do we need to explore special education options?
As I ponder these challenges, I can’t help but worry for my daughter, Lily, who often tags along to Oliver’s appointments. I fear she’ll have to advocate for him in the future, interpreting his needs to the world as he struggles to communicate. There are days when I feel sorrow for both my children, as they navigate this journey together.
Nevertheless, our family is filled with joy. I’ve discovered a newfound resilience within myself. On many nights, you’ll find me researching potential therapies or schools, driven by a fierce determination to provide the best for my kids. Yet, there are also dark moments when the weight of uncertainty overwhelms me, and I find myself on the bathroom floor, crying in solitude. Those nights, I relate to Oliver’s struggle for understanding, feeling the same profound isolation that comes with being misunderstood.
In the aftermath of those tough days, I pull myself together, shower, and embrace my children, showering them with kisses until they giggle and squirm away. I remind myself to stay hopeful and that I am a fighter; I will find pathways for Oliver.
Several things offer me hope. I am fortunate to have an incredible support network of friends who uplift our family with love and laughter. My husband, a beacon of likability, has passed that trait on to Oliver, who has a delightful grin and an affinity for babies. A special mention goes to our neighbor, Sarah, who shares her own son, Max, with us. Max, a verbal dynamo, has become a dear friend to Oliver, bridging the gap between their communication styles. Their friendship warms my heart, and I hope it lasts a lifetime.
I take pride in my parenting abilities—be it breastfeeding, cooking elaborate meals, or juggling two children effortlessly. My background as a teacher and my experience with various kids have prepared me well for this role. My dad once told me I was destined to be a mother, and I wholeheartedly believed him. Now, as Oliver’s mom, I feel that every moment in my life has led me to this mission of advocating for him.
As we continue this journey, I remain resolute to find the right path for Oliver. For more insights on family planning, you can check out our post on the at-home insemination kit. Resources like this guide on IUI are invaluable as we navigate parenthood.
In the end, I know that I will always fight for Oliver’s voice to be heard, come what may.