photo by Kiljander |
Einstein didn’t
talk until he was four.
He’ll talk when he
has something to say.
Can he hear?
All were remarks from our relatives
and friends intending to be supportive, but I mostly ignored them. My child was
not Einstein, and it seemed to me that if he could whine and cry he could toss
out a word or two.
By age two, at Chase’s physical
exam, the doctor asked how his vocabulary was developing. I listed what I knew:
da for Dad, dō for dog, ba for bottle, but they were sounds not words. I
explained he had never babbled like other babies. Sometimes he gestured for
things, a cup, a cookie, but mostly he yelled.
“He should be putting two words
together by now,” the doctor had said. “Make a list of his words and see me
again in two months.”
Chase had been born six weeks premature
so I expected delays in his development, but when he sat up at eight months,
and walked at thirteen months, I stopped worrying. Did he need more time? Was I
doing the mom thing right? Did this happen in other families? Chase was my
oldest child. I hadn’t been around enough children to know for sure that
something was wrong.
One day, feeling desperate, I decided
to not let him out of his high chair until he said “down.” Any similar sound
would do: dow, deh, doo. Nothing.
“Just sit there then,” I told
him, and ignored the consequences. His vocal chords were fine.
“Say ‘down’,” I said.
He stretched out his arms.
“DOWN,” I demanded.
He kicked and his highchair
wobbled.
“DOWN,” I yelled. (Not a good
strategy, but I was feeling it.)
Afraid that his rocking might
land him on the floor, I finally helped him. “Want a cookie?” Perfect. Now I
was rewarding him for not talking. He snatched it out of my hand and ran from
the room.
Two months later in the doctor’s
office, I didn’t need a list. There were no words. Instead, there had been noises,
silly noises, elongated vowel sounds, or tuneless humming, endless noise. “Quiet!”
I yelled. We were the perfect pair, unable to communicate; there weren’t enough
cookies in the world to fix us.
The doctor handed me a slip of
paper with the phone number of North Bay Regional Center. He explained it was a
state agency that offered free psychiatric testing for families in need of
services. He also ordered a hearing test.
The results came back normal.
To be continued…
4 comments:
Barb, you've really captured the worry and exasperation you went through during that period of time with your usual sense of humor. Love the picture of Einstein . Can't wait to read part 2.
Thanks, Amber. Part 2 is in the works.
In an email comment from Lenore Wilson:
Barbara! Your writing soars! Chase is your muse! I was close to tears reading your words. Impeccable words! You have a book here that is wondrous and going to get published-- I feel it in my bones!
Wow. Thanks, Lenore. Coming from you (an especially gifted poet) these words mean a lot.
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