As my son, Tyler, grows older, the differences between him and his peers become increasingly apparent. His inability to speak is particularly heartbreaking for us. We often find ourselves wondering if we will ever hear his sweet toddler voice and whether he will sound like his younger brother, Ethan, who is just two. Each time I hear Ethan call my name, my heart swells and aches simultaneously; it’s a bittersweet experience for our family. How can I fully appreciate these moments when I am still yearning for that connection with Tyler?
In addition to his autism, Tyler has childhood apraxia of speech (CAS). Many people are less familiar with apraxia than with autism. Tyler is eager to communicate, but CAS creates a motor planning challenge that hinders his ability to produce words or sounds consistently. His brain knows what he wants to express, but he struggles to coordinate the necessary mouth movements, resulting in a disconnect between thought and speech.
As parents, we opted to introduce some basic sign language to help Tyler communicate more effectively. He has learned two signs: “more” and “all done.” Mastering these signs was transformative for us. Tyler doesn’t even know how to nod or shake his head, making it a guessing game about his needs and wants. However, with “more” and “all done,” we gained a glimpse into his desires.
Recently, Tyler has started using “more” to mean “I want.” If he’s eating a cookie and signs for “more,” I know he’s asking for another cookie. But when he points to the bathtub and signs “more,” it indicates he wants a bath. These nuances highlight the need for a more comprehensive communication method.
The options available can be overwhelming. As parents, we constantly question our decisions: What birth plan should we follow? Will we breastfeed or use formula? What school will our child attend? The worries and decisions never cease. As a parent of a child with special needs, I often feel that our choices carry even greater weight. What happens if we delay too long? What if we rush? Time feels like an adversary in this journey.
After much reflection, my husband and I decided to create a communication book with Tyler’s teacher. We hesitated at first, holding onto hope that he might begin speaking on his own. But how long should we wait before providing him with a better means of communication? It wouldn’t be right to deny him this opportunity while clinging to unfulfilled hopes.
We compiled real photographs of items Tyler interacts with daily—his favorite cookie, the specific juice brand we use, beloved toys, and even images of our backyard and bathroom. The book contains around 20 pages of small laminated pictures attached with Velcro. Initially, he could only focus on six pictures at a time, so just flipping through the book was a victory in itself. Now, Tyler can navigate through the pages, select what he wants, and bring the chosen picture to me.
Watching him catch on so quickly is bittersweet; it makes me sad to think about the time he spent in silence, unable to express his needs. Like all parents, my husband and I have done our best to understand what Tyler needs over the past three years. However, now that he can indicate what he wants to eat, play with, or where he wants to go, I realize that I likely wouldn’t have chosen half of what he presents to me each day.
During a recent therapy session at home, my husband and I were in another room when we heard Tyler crying with his ABA therapist. It was late afternoon, and the day had been long. Typically, my husband wakes Tyler up before sunrise for school, which is packed with various therapies and activities. After a long bus ride and more therapy at home, some days, he simply needs to rest.
But today was different. Tyler now had his communication book. He flipped through it and reached the last page, which features pictures of his family—his dad, me, his brother, and his aunt. To my astonishment, he removed my husband’s picture and then my own, handing them to his therapist. In that moment, Tyler used his communication book to ask for his parents for the very first time.
At three years old, he could have requested anything—ice cream, a trip to the park, or playtime. Instead, he chose to ask for us. This experience serves as a reminder that he shares the same needs and desires as any other child. Sometimes, all a child wants is the comfort of their mom or dad. It’s a moment of validation for us as parents. Even though Tyler approaches us when he needs support, it’s different when I know he is trying to communicate like everyone else. So for now, we will embrace this bittersweet reality and cherish our time together.
For more insights on parenting and communication strategies, check out our other posts like this one about home insemination kits, or explore resources on intrauterine insemination from the NHS.
In Summary
My journey as a parent of a nonverbal child has been filled with challenges and triumphs. Through the use of a communication book, Tyler is finally able to express his needs and desires, allowing our family to connect in ways we once thought impossible.
Keyphrase: nonverbal child communication
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