I see you. You’re the mom in the grocery store nervously trying to explain to the nice old lady why your son isn’t telling her his name. You’re the dad over by the jungle gym watching other kids call out to your son, but he just looks back at them silently, missing out on the opportunity to make a new friend. You’re the one holding back tears in the library when a seemingly innocent older child loudly asks you, “Can she even talk?” You’re the one giving an Emmy Award-winning performance of pretending to have thick skin as other moms at the playgroup give you the side eye while you try to love your frustrated child through their meltdown because all they really want is a snack, but can’t get the words out to ask you. I see you.
Let me offer you a hug, a tissue, and my support. I’ve been there. I’m still there. But thanks to a few years of experience, an awesomely supportive husband, a stellar therapist (for me), and a dream team of therapists to support my little one, I can honestly tell you that it can and it will get better. It seems this Apraxia journey is a never-ending tale with twists, turns, surprises, and even a few sprinkles of excitement. Here are some things I’ve learned along the way: