Since Ian had chronic ear infections, and wasn’t talking at one year, his doctor ordered tests — to have his ears checked by an ENT, and his hearing checked at the children’s hospital.  The ENT said Ian’s ears are fine, and he doesn’t need tubes (although he’s had at least 4 infections since that visit), and his hearing was excellent.  His comprehension was also excellent for his age.  I was happy with those results, and didn’t think Ian needed any more intervention, but the woman who runs the speech pathology department at Children’s Mercy insisted that Ian needed speech therapy, and his regular pediatrician was encouraging therapy, too.  But there was a wait list for ST, and our insurance didn’t cover it anyway, and I didn’t think he needed it, so I didn’t worry about it.  That was last November (yeah, his pediatrician wrote the referral for his hearing test last April, Children’s Mercy has a 6 month wait list).  In January, I got a call from the speech therapy coordinator, saying, “Hey we have 3 openings, this this and this time and day, pick one NOW or we put you back on the wait list.”  Wow, ok.  So I picked a day, because I didn’t want to lose the spot, but I knew we couldn’t pay without insurance.  The coordinator sent me paperwork for a grant, and we qualified before the first appointment, so it was all good.

Anyway, I took Ian to speech therapy, even though I didn’t think he needed it.  Ian and I spend so much time together that I always know what he wants, even if he can’t talk.  To me, that’s fine, because if I hold out for him to say a word, it leads to a tantrum, and I just really don’t want to deal with that.  The first thing the therapist did was show Ian really neat toys, and then force him to say a sound or use a sign to get the toy.  Leading to… tantrums.  Yeah.  Ian hated therapy.  I hated watching him go through it.  He wouldn’t cooperate, he’d grab for the toys, the therapist and I would tell him no, and it was just sad.  I didn’t care if he couldn’t talk, I knew he’d do it eventually if there was nothing physically or mentally wrong with him.  But then the therapist would ask what Ian calls me, and I’d have to admit that my toddler couldn’t say “mama,” and I’d get sad about that and consent to more therapy.

Ian didn’t make progress in therapy for the first few months.  He learned a few signs, mainly “want more” and “cookies,” (yeah, the SPEECH therapist started off by teaching him sign language), but Ian wouldn’t make sounds–except “kaboom.”    Of all the words he could have picked up in therapy, why kaboom?  I’ll never know.

Speaking of cookies… part of her process was to offer Ian either cookies or juice, and get him to say/sign for one or the other.  Ian always chose cookies, but then couldn’t talk while chewing.  Then he’d get thirsty, but couldn’t/wouldn’t ask for juice, and she wouldn’t just let him have it.  That drove me crazy, because I knew the poor kid really NEEDED a drink and couldn’t get one, and I was too uncomfortable to speak up for him.  I thought maybe it was just my reaction to therapy, but Justin and his mom both went to sessions and agreed that it wasn’t working for Ian.

By his second birthday, he knew maybe 5 signs and 5 words.  Then Leah was born, and I couldn’t give Ian my full attention, and I couldn’t follow him to see what he was pointing at.  Then Justin’s mom was here for a week, and she was very interested in Ian’s therapy.  She came with us to a session, and worked with him the rest of the week, trying to get sounds out of him.  The next two week’s after her visit, we didn’t have therapy.  Guess what?  Ian started talking.  Non-stop, like a parrot.  He’d repeat everything, and he started retaining sounds and words.  It was amazing. (more…)