The sign for “more” was one of the first signs learned when my daughter was young. Starting speech therapy at a few months old and my extra experience in the education for infants and toddlers (yes, it is a thing!) means I knew how important it was to use words and signs often to help little minds absorb how to communicate.
Having a daughter with Down Syndrome also meant language, among other things, would be tougher to learn. So I slowed my speech with her. I labeled everything-mama, dada, dog, cat, shoes, juice, milk. Even as a baby I learned food is a big motivator and where most of her communication started. Hey, food is an important need. And it’s delicious.
She signed and made noises. Soon those noises turned into word-like sounds. By Kindergarten she had a few words. And she would sing along to her favorite songs. If I put Lady Gaga on my playlist in the minivan, there would be a little voice going “Just dance!!!” as she rocked back and forth.
It was so exciting. I was very active on Facebook informing the world of our little successes. My daily “memories” is full of moments like the following where I’m ecstatic over any words I heard. Even if it was a “no!” (The most popular word she has learned) Some days my memories had moments I told the Facebook world I was doing laundry. If you still follow me there I thank you for putting up with that.
It continued. Her words were slow. But they were there. Her progress reports from school or therapy showed her communication skills continuing to improve. Sure, she was behind. And the fact that my girl has a stubborn streak in her that can’t be fought-only matched, still showed she was learning her basic words. We would read Biscuit the Dog books and she would say “woof, woof” with Biscuit.
But then. She stopped. She’d still dance to music. Occasionally she’d throw in a “please” or “cup,” but as she grew and learned how to get her wants and needs met, she stopped asking. She refused to sit with me and read a book out loud. Still, I had faith.
I repeated everything in slower words again, enunciating the sounds. I’d sign “I love you” and “more, please” encouraging her to use whatever form of communication she wanted. Through speech therapy and state assistance we opted to match her with a talking device. Again, I’m open to whatever form of communication she wants to use.
But I miss her voice. I’ve cried over these stupid Facebook memories. While I’m celebrating the many, many things she can do I’m still missing one thing in her life: her thoughts.
I love using her device to try to talk with her. Asking her how her day went. She will use it to tell me she does not want the apple juice I poured, but instead a Mountain Dew I don’t have in the house. She will tell me she wants mashed potatoes with her chicken nuggets. She will tell me Lotso and Mom are in the room.
It’s coming. Her words are coming back. She can request Taylor Swift songs (though, come on, you never really need to ask for me to turn those songs on!) At school one day she was able to use her talker to say she was sick, her head hurt and with my permission and the medication I keep in her school health office she was able to take Ibuprofen and then had a great afternoon.
I don’t know if I’ll hear her counting by song to Britney’s inappropriate, but very fun “Three” again. Or if I’ll hear her say “I luh ooo” like I used to. But she smiles back when I say it. She sometimes returns the sign. And she uses her device to ask “Do you want to take a selfie with me?”
The answer is yes. I’d like to take more, please.