When my son Mason reached all his developmental milestones except for speech, the news from the speech therapist hit hard. I’ll never forget that day—it felt like a punch to the gut. As the therapist spoke, I was lost in my thoughts, feeling my heart sink. It took a few days to regain my composure because I had a three-year-old son and a one-year-old daughter who both needed me. I knew I had to pull myself together and create a plan for the parent I aspired to be. So, I made a note in my planner:
Problem and Solution
Problem: Mason isn’t speaking.
Solution:
- Engage him constantly. Talk to him at every opportunity, even in the car. Count the streetlights—he was fascinated by them.
- Educate myself. Ensure that no doctor or therapist could suggest I wasn’t doing enough. I would become the most informed parent they had ever met.
- Take control of our journey. I would be the captain of Mason’s ship, not the therapists or teachers.
I vividly recall when a local diagnostician suggested that Mason might have Asperger’s. She then implied that I wasn’t playing with him enough. “Do you get on the floor and play with him?” she asked. Did I? I thought I did, but now I was unsure. It felt like a heavy load had been dropped on me. Why was the mother always under scrutiny? I was furious.
After she left, I researched Asperger’s syndrome, and it didn’t fit Mason at all. Children with Asperger’s typically have better verbal skills, while Mason had a limited vocabulary of about 15 words—many of which were made-up. Did I not play enough with him? It was hard to shake off that feeling of inadequacy, even though I knew I was doing my best.
To cope, I treated myself to a little retail therapy at a local store and bought a new pair of jeans. These jeans symbolized my commitment to Mason’s progress. I decided to wear them every time I played with him on the floor. They became a reminder of my determination to help him overcome his Developmental Language Disorder (DLD), which left him in the 2nd percentile for his age. Yet, I could see his eagerness to learn and communicate.
Our journey began at the train table, playing with Thomas the Train daily. We practiced taking turns and I modeled questions and responses. My ultimate goal was for him to express basic needs, like asking for water or food. We spent countless hours in the kitchen, using sign language alongside spoken words like water, eat, and more.
Instead of allowing speech goals to overwhelm me, I focused on creating personalized targets based on Mason’s interests and frustrations. I informed the speech therapist of my approach: “For the next month, we’ll concentrate on personal exchanges. We’ll model requests for items without causing any frustration. Just model and repeat, and then give him the item.”
We started with water, then moved to food, toys, and things that genuinely interested him. I also incorporated reading, shapes, colors, and the alphabet. One of his first words was “smoothie.” I confess, Starbucks helped me through some challenging days.
On our drives to speech therapy, I would count streetlight poles, and one day, out of nowhere, Mason joined in. I was overwhelmed with emotion—I had been longing for that moment. It validated all the times I talked to myself in the car like a quirky parent. Initially, it took about two months to achieve a goal, but as time went on, we hit milestones every two weeks.
Six months after purchasing my jeans, I noticed they were fading at the knees. A couple of months later, they ripped. I wore those torn jeans proudly until Mason’s next speech evaluation. As his speech therapist reviewed his progress, I reflected on my own journey and the significance of the holes in my jeans. They represented hard-earned milestones!
Soon after, I bought another pair of jeans and repeated this pattern six more times. I’ve kept the majority of my holey jeans as trophies for each achievement. I often advise other parents navigating Developmental Language Disorder to invest in a new pair of jeans, get on the floor, and enjoy time with their child. While the outcomes of therapy and play can’t be predicted, you can cherish the moments spent creating happy memories—and yes, putting holes in those jeans.
Further Reading
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Summary
Navigating a child’s speech delay can be overwhelming, but with dedication, creativity, and a bit of symbolism—like a pair of jeans—you can foster growth and communication. By creating personalized goals and engaging in play, parents can support their children through challenges while building lasting memories.