SLP Mommy of Apraxia

Tag: Apraxia clients

  • A tale of two roles: navigating my role on both sides of apraxia.

    A tale of two roles: navigating my role on both sides of apraxia.

    I first met a fellow mommy of apraxia at the Denver Apraxia Walk.  She was pleasant with kind eyes, and said she felt her 5 year old son needed a change up in speech therapy services.

    The next week her son was scheduled for therapy at the private clinic in which I work.

    In most cases, I have my parents come with their child into my office.  I NEED them to see what I see.  I NEED them to do what I do.  They are with their child the most, and they are completely capable of carrying over what I am doing, as long as they know WHAT I am doing.

    Normally the child might be somewhat distracted by the parent; however, this day, I was the one distracted.  Not by my client, but by his mom.  There isn’t one word to describe her face, but there were multiple adjectives rolled into one: worry, anxiety, fear, hope.

    These are only a few, and honestly, they killed me.

    I understood more when she said she had successfully home schooled 4 other children, some even in college.  I admired her.  She not only stayed home and raised her kids, but she taught them school as well.  Their entire childhood development rested on her shoulders and she had done a good job.

    But her baby.  Her last child.  This one was different.

    I felt her pain.  I absorbed her worry.  I took responsibility for her hope.

    I knew I could help her son.  He wasn’t receiving the right therapy.  That was evident from his first session.

    I was so moved, I came home and told my husband.  I described her face and how it was hard for me to take because I kept absorbing all of her emotions.

    It’s hard to watch a mother visibly show almost every emotion I went through with Ashlynn’s dx, but then be able to turn that off and be the professional SLP I need to be.

    I recently watched an initial video I took when I saw him.  Again, though I was trying my hardest to focus on him, I couldn’t help but look at his mom in the background.  The worry on her face is tangible.  I just want to yell out, “I will help him mom.”  “Slow down.”  “Stop worrying.”  “He is going to be okay.”

    Unfortunately, I know saying all of those things is like telling the sun not to rise.  A mother’s worry cannot be extinguished.

    Last week though, something was different about her demeanor.  A softness was in her face. Upon further questioning, I discovered her oldest daughter came home from college and told her she saw a difference in her little brother’s speech.

    That’s all it took.  Outside validation from an inside source.

    I’m sure that doesn’t mean she’s still not worried, but I hope a small weight, even if ever so tiny, was taken off her shoulders.

  • They want to put her in a special classroom….what does that mean?

    They want to put her in a special classroom….what does that mean?

    I have a client who is usually brought in by her dad who drops her off and then waits in the truck.  Last night; however, he followed us back to the therapy room and asked to talk with me.
    This normally reserved, stoic man had fear and sadness in his eyes.  He told me had just seen his wife briefly and she was crying.  She had a meeting with the school and they told her their daughter is eligible for a special classroom.  I knew what this meant.  I knew she had been being re-evaluated in anticipation of her 6th birthday.  At that time, the district has to figure out a “label” for why she is having learning difficulties.  Aside from her global apraxia, I could only assume they found an intellectual disability as well.

    I was looking into his eyes.  This family trusts me.  They know I have Ashlynn, they know the struggles I have had and I know he thinks I understand.  Truth is, I’m just as terrified as him in that moment.  I was with him as a parent, not as the SLP I usually am.  I’ve been at IEP meetings where we recommend the “special classoom.”  We always try to be positive and explain to the parents that the smaller setting will allow them to work at their pace.  This is all true.  In fact, I am the SLP for two “special classrooms” during the day.  The kids are learning, they are happy, and we are all here to see them succeed.

    As a parent though, standing there with him, looking at his fear, sadness, trust, and just a glimmer of hope, my heart was breaking. I rambled and explained the process and the testing, and how a school usually gets to that decision.  A psychologist would have looked at her general cognitive abilities.  A score would be calculated and compared to national norms.  Scores below could indicate a cognitive disability; however, the social worker would be administering an adaptive/functioning assessment.  The parent and teacher would be interviewed and asked questions based on various adaptive skills she can do at home and at school.  If these came back below age expectations, a cognitive disability may be suspected.  However, in her case, the global apraxia would negatively affect the scores because a lot of the questions include daily living skills.  Finally, educational testing will look at her academic performance and compare it to her cognitive and adaptive scores.  If all the tests were low across the board, she most likely will be identified with a cognitive disability and be eligible for the special classroom.  If her cognitive and/or adaptive was high, but her educational scores are still low, she most likely will be labeled with a specific learning disability in the areas in which she struggles, and she may or may not be eligible for the special classroom.

    His eyes glazed over.  I stopped talking.  I told him that it doesn’t mean a thing.  It doesn’t mean a damn thing.  I’m not giving up on her, and neither are they, and neither is the school, and just because she needs it now doesn’t mean she’ll need it forever; and I really, truly, meant that.  She might have to work harder, but work she will, and work WE will.  I told him that Ashlynn started in a special classroom, but now she is in mainstream with a lot of support. 

    I thought of the Katy Perry song “Eye of the tiger.”  All of us parents have to have the eye of the tiger.  It’s hard, it’s tough, we will cry, but we will also smile.  There will be challenges, but there will be triumphs.
    “I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire, and I am a champion, and you’re gonna here me roar!”

    I love this definition of determination.  “The ability to see past challenges, rather than stare at them.”  I encourage you all to do the same!

  • First professional CAS presentation

    First professional CAS presentation

    I stood waiting 30 minutes early to enter the room.  The room where I would present information on my personal and professional experiences and knowledge about Childhood Apraxia of Speech for the first time at a professional conference.

    As the door opened, people started clammering for a seat.  I looked around thinking to myself, “are they sure they know they are coming to see me?”  I took my place at the front and started to set up my power point presentation.  My cousin, and SLP from a neighboring school district found me and gave me a much needed hug and wished me good luck.  It wasn’t long before the room was so full that the side door had to be opened.  People asked me if I could request more chairs.

    I started to feel sick and any hunger feeling I did have during this brief lunch break was long gone.

    Soon, people crowded in and just sat on the floor.  They sat in front and in back, and pulled up chairs in the back and side hallway.  I found my mentor in the hallway and leaned on her shoulder proclaiming I was about to be sick.   With a reassuring pat she sent me back in ordering I save her a chair in front.

    Soon the announcer came up to introduce me.  Nervously I chatted with him stalling for time.  As he said my name I experienced an almost out of body experience.  I heard him in the background, but I thought of Ashlynn.

    I thought of the two boys I had treated with apraxia before her, and how they came to me nonverbal in Kindergarten. I suddenly remembered that I’m giving this talk so that another child with apraxia doesn’t have to wait longer than they have to to find their voice.  To say their name.  To tell their parents they love them, or even call their parents by name.  I realized  I have an audience of well meaning, awesome professionals who wake up each morning and help children find their voice and I have first hand experience and professional experience on how to help them make that happen. It was clear from the number in attendance that they want to know more; so, with a big breath I began my presentation drawing strength from my little ones with apraxia who have to be braver than me in that moment,  EVERY moment of their young lives on their journey to find their voice.

    If the email inviting me back for next year is any indication, I hope I did them all proud.

    A link to my presentation is here: Importance of Differential Diagnosis and Treatment Approach in Childhood Apraxia of Speech