Why speech delays are hard on the heart...

We shared a lovely late-afternoon visit with friends the other day.
Enjoying the great outdoors, with all it's warm sunshine and springtime wonder.
When I looked around for K, she was nowhere to be found.
Hmmm, better go investigate.

I soon discovered she'd gone inside and was sitting on the step in the foyer.
I asked if she wanted to join us; she just darted back inside.
Hmmmm, perhaps she's hot...
A few minutes later I checked on her again.
Again, I asked if she wanted to join us; again she quickly turned back inside.
Hmmmm, maybe she's just not feeling socialable...
Sometimes she takes a few minutes to herself here and there, even with favorite company.
Our friends soon left and we were cleaning up and I looked inside.

Here K had been trying to get her shoes on all by herself.
When she couldn't, she simply sat. And waited.
She was distressed when she learned that our friends had left without a hug goodbye.

Why didn't you tell me!? I ask her. I lament to myself.
It's not like she physically can't tell me, but I know and I try to remember, there are times when so many building blocks of communication (even though they seem extremely simple to the rest of us) are hard to form into action. She could've put on her boots (she knows how, for the most part). She could've opened the door and said "help you." But when she gets overwhelmed, she gets stalled. And so she waits.

It's in times like these my heart simply aches to hear the words:
Mama, please help me.
Mama, this hurts.
Mama, I am happy or sad or mad or tired or hungry or WHATEVER!

I call her name - she doesn't usually answer me.
It's not like she's being rude or purposefully difficult - she simply doesn't realize that it is her turn for a response. We are teaching her, slowly but intentionally, and it takes time.

I repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat. And repeat. Annnnnd repeat.
And. Repeat.
And it's hard not to get frustrated or discouraged, and sometimes it's hard not to get short and snappy.

It's clear she's fallen down or bumped something --- but again, it's a guessing game. I go to the room where she's been in last to see if I can see a situation that has caused the stress. See if I can put the pieces together so that I know what has happened and what owie needs mending. Often times we can figure it out - other times I never know what hurts or why.

I see other kids, way younger than she is, conversing with their mamas, talking about their day, their experiences, their wants and needs. Speaking with great ease. And I am blown away. It never ceases to amaze me, this gift of communication. We don't always use it wisely :), but when we do - wow.

So many aspects of this life seem normal already, and we don't think twice about it.
Other times - it still hurts.

Hug-A-Munk!

This past winter we were able to spend some time in Florida.
While we were gone, I created a private blog to share some of our experiences with family and friends. This is a post that I wrote about one of our adventures....

---

Last Saturday, we were able to visit Epcot Centre.
It was our longest day yet. And the longest day we'll have.
Though it was long, the weather was nice and we had fun.

The biggest blessing, though, came through Sweet K and her sudden desire to hug a chipmunk!!

As I've mentioned, Sweet K just IS NOT into rides right now.
And she also is afraid of anything in a costume.
Pretty much sums up the "disney" experience :).

Anyway, Jon took Little M to some attractions while I went to go fetch my (forgotten) glasses from the van. I had the babies with me. When I got to the front gate, I realized that Jon still had my ticket, which meant walking ALLLLL the way across the park to fetch it before I could head out to the parking lot. We found Jon & Little M standing in line to say "hi" to Chip & Dale, those little disney chipmunks. Little M said "cheese," Jon took a picture, and voila. We were on our way.

Suddenly, I hear Sweet K talking.

Hug Munks. Peeease. Hug munk. Me. Hug Munk. HUUUUUGSS.

All this while she's squeezing her arms around herself as tight as possible.

She wanted to hug the chipmunks too!!

This was notable for a few reasons.

While her one-word vocabulary has been exploding since summer, we are waiting for her to start stringing two- and three-word combinations together (the next developmental step, typically seen around 18-24 months).

Here she was....

using her WORDS...

using them in PUBLIC....

using them in two and three word combos...

AND showing interest in doing something she DID NOT want to do before this.

My heart was full :).

To make a long story short, she repeated this over and over all the way to the van and back. When we returned to this spot, a staff person let us know that while C&D were still standing there, the line-up was closed. We could come back again tomorrow. Sweet K was disappointed and I was tempted to mow that lady over with my double stroller!! Don't mess with a Mama Bear!!

Well, this is as close as she got to hugging a "munk" that day. Thanks to Grandma & Grandpa, who were also moved by this story and in the park with us that day, Little M & Sweet K each got a little chipmunk to squeeze :).

A few days later we were able to visit Animal Kingdom.
Little M brought her travel journal and was able to collect a few autographs.

Sweet K wanted to hug Tigger.
But suddenly she wasn't sure it was such a good idea!



Sweet K was okay with Eeyore...



... as long as he didn't get too close!

By the time we found Winnie the Pooh, Sweet K was pretty much finished with
getting close to characters.
Enough was enough for one day.

Jon passed her to me here at the last minute.
You have no idea how NOT IMPRESSED she was that Goofy came
to stand beside her.
She was done. So was I.
No more costume characters for Sweet K that day!!

She is such a good sport about these things though.
When she's had enough, she'll say DONE DONE DONE DONE.
Okey dokey Sweet K.

 Any time Sweet K moves into a new developmental phase, I get so excited! It's quite the journey with her, though I know it could be far more challenging. We are grateful things are going so well. However, it makes these moments even sweeter.

Way to Hug-A-Munk, Sweet K!!

A Particular Kind Of Joy

I have to admit - when we wrestled with the decision of whether or not to go on and have a third baby, there was one aspect I didn't really worry fret obsess think about too much -- that stage when the younger would surpass the older in terms of developmental milestones. We knew it would happen, we accepted it from a distance, and left it at that.

I just didn't think we've enter into that stage so soon.

It is a particular kind of joy, watching our youngest daughter, now 15 months, starting to explode in her learning. Her words are accumulating on a weekly basis. Her fine motor skills are already so refined and graceful. She is in constant motion, a force to be reckoned with. It takes some getting used too!!! It is beautiful, and we celebrate each and every thing she does.

And yet, there is a tug on the heart strings. 

I recall, vividly, trying to coax these same milestones along with Sweet K. Playing with the developmental toys (there are some toys, that, if I ever see them again, it'll be too soon!!!). Repeating repeating repeating repeating.  Hand-over-hand learning, guiding her body until what came so naturally to myself, to others, came naturally to her too. Some days were ... are ... hard.

In all honesty, I wouldn't change the journey. We are head-over-heels in love with each of our three daughters as they are. However, that doesn't change the fact that sometimes there is still an ache that runs deep when I observe how the natural process of learning is effortless for some, laborious for others. 

I have often thought of learning like filling a cup with water --- 

For some, it is like turning on a tap, almost instantaneous. 

For others, it is like drawing water from a well, and it can take a lot of effort before that sweet reward is enjoyed. 

Both, however, are miracles unfolding, to be savored and enjoyed.

It still surprises me that we are beginning to wrestle through this stage already, and yet it also just seems normal for us, and adds to our sense of family adventure! But, admittedly, it is a particular kind of joy that I grapple with from time to time.

From here to there

After finding this quote, I knew I had to have it in my home.
So, I bought a cheap canvas and spent a few delightful hours with my paint and brushes :).

Sometimes I still get too focused on the skills we need to practice.
And still, sometimes I get frustrated by the process.
And sometimes it feels like we'll never get "there" from "here."

And truthfully, some skills we'll master, others will take a bit more time, and still others -- maybe not. We'll see. However, life is not about the achievements, it's about how the time is spent along the way.

"Jack"

We'll call him, "Jack." The little fellow that has captured my daughter's attention.

With a mild-moderate speech delay, our little one is not a gal of many words. Short and sweet is best, in her books :). However, even after a morning at preschool, I never fail to ask her how her day was, what things she took interest in, what the kids were doing.

You'll never know what'll come out, some day!

One particular lunch time, after a morning at preschool, I was trying to encourage her to say, "I love you." Three simple words. For those who are familiar with language delays and challenges, three words in a row is a lot! However, these particular three are delightful and encouraging, and when we hear them it'll be music to my ears!

Anyway, I was encouraging her to repeat after me.
"I. Love. You."
Smile. "Jack."
Jack!? JACK!!? Yes, I've heard this name before. He's a sweet-hearted little fellow who likes to play cars (the one-on-one worker has informed me). He's gentle and inclusive and was delighted one morning when he heard our sweet little girl say his name.
"Do you love Jack?" I ask, in a sing-song kinda voice!
"Mine." More smiles.
"Is Jack your friend?" The grin she gave was enormous. Friendship, in all it's shapes and sorts, is a beautiful thing. My heart soared.

Often often often, we pray for the friendships our children will have. Special people to enjoy life with, to swap secrets and stories, to have fun (but stay outta trouble!!!). However, for our Sweet K, I also ask that there is always someone in her corner who is willing to take life at her pace. A little slower, a little sweeter. It has blessed me time and again to see God honor that request. I know that there will likely be struggles ahead, but so far, she has always had someone who was willing to play at a level that she is comfortable with.

Evidently, Jack is one of those fine folks!! So he has a special place in our hearts, indeed!!

First steps

I'll never forget the moment where the reality of diagnosis began to sink in. Through the fog of disbelief a thousand questions began clamoring for attention. Among the few that rose to the surface:

What does all this mean?
What does the future look like?
Will we be able to handle all this?
Where do we go from here?


Through the weeks and months that followed, I wrestled with these questions and fear of what the future would be like. My highly creative and active imagination provided much fuel for the fire and it was not an easy time. Through this, however, a phrase began to take hold and grounded me in the moment:

While a diagnosis provides a framework for dealing with a particular set of circumstances, it does not define who we are or what we are capable of.


It is helpful to have a framework in order to understand, and effectively manage, the things that life brings our way.
It is not helpful to be limited by a definition or a label.

This brought a tremendous sense of freedom as we began to seek out a balance in our circumstances. Each of us has potential, and it is a joy to share in each other's journey. Milestones became celebrations rather than looming goals to attain. Laughter returned, a healthier perspective set in. The diagnosis became a tool rather than the rule. It was a big step toward acceptance and an abundant life.