I will not be her limiting factor

At the risk of becoming a one trick pony, I'm going to hesitantly start another post on communication.

Exactly a month ago, I posted about finally making the leap and learning how to use BoardMaker.  The timing wasn't accidental.  Maya had been toying with the iPad for the past 8 months or so during her therapies.   I had made a few picture cards here and there, but without much direction.  As the summer rolled on I told myself "When school starts, we will get a system in place".  It didn't seem to make much sense to create a system on my own when preschool (filled with lots of people-who-know-how-to-communicate-with-nonverbal-little-kids) was right around the corner.

School started.  I waited for her to find her footing.  I spent a few hours learning BoardMaker.  I met with Maya's teacher and speech therapist and saw the types of boards they were using at school.  I made some boards at home.

I puzzled over the fact that having a finite number of words available meant that I was chosing everything that Maya was able to say.  I hated that.  It didn't seem fair.

I made keep making the Word Book.  With it, Maya will flip through the pages, pulling off words and handing them to me, eyes lighting up with delight when I say "alligator?" or whatever word she's thinking.  She understands that the book lets her get her thoughts out.  She plays with the PECs (picture cards).  She's starting to learn how to point her way through "I want" sentences.  It's exciting-beyond-words that she's able to tell us stuff.

But it's killing me.

Something about seeing her latch onto this book so quickly (and I really mean "latch on"--literally and figuratively---she's taking the thing in her crib at night . . . don't take my words away, mommy, I might need them tonight) is simulatenously delighting me and breaking my heart.  She's so young and teachable and interested, and I've realized that the limiting factor is her communication isn't her . . . it's me.

Sure . . . it's her mouth's fault that she can't speak words, but it's my fault that she can't communicate.

She doesn't sign much . . . because I haven't followed through with continuing to teach ASL, since her signs are garbled and while I understand them, others won't.  So I just kind of gave up on signing, I guess.  It wasn't a conscious decision, it just  . . . happened.  She started making sounds and gesturing and taking my hand to lead me to things and most of the time, I understood her.  So it was easy not to use PECs regularly, or any real system----she understood me and I understood her and it led to kind of a lazy complacency. 

Now she's starting to use the PECs, and starting to use the iPad more (it's taking me time to upload pictures and format the program, but we're using it in baby steps) and she's learning.  She's interested.  The learning is slow, but it will come.

I give her something new, and she tries to learn it. 
 
  
I'm the limiting factor. 



If I don't make-it-for-her/give-it-to-her/customize-it/set-it-up then her communication is limited.  And it's limited because of me.


This line of thinking . . . well, it's not so good.  I've been throw into a kind of emotional spiral over this . . . whatever I'm doing, I don't feel like it's enough.  But it's certainly enough to keep me in front of the computer day and night, googling and searching and emailing.  It's enough to cut into my sleep.  It's enough to obsess over.  It's an unhealthy place to be.

And then I realized that I can turn some of this negative energy from self-loathing into just plain old loathing (and not that any loathing is ideal . . . but of those two, I'd take the latter).  I am angry at "the system" again. 

I want Maya to get a communication device.  A real one, a big one, one that she can gently be exposed to now and grow into and use for years to come.  I want it soon. 

I want it because Maya deserves it.

But, somehow, it's not my choice.  I can refer her for evaluations (done).  The evaluators will recommend the product that they think is best for her (which I've found to be a gross misrepresentation of her ability).  I can protest . . . but, well, you know . . . I'm "just a parent".  I'm not the professional.  How could I possibly know more about this stuff than the professional?  The device that she receives from the Board of Ed will most likely just be the one that the professional recommends, and then we wait while a year goes by.  A year!  In a year I think she could make some very nice slow and steady progress with a device.

I am educating myself.  I am emailing people-who-know-things about augmentative communication*.  I am leaving messages with representatives from the big companies*. 

I am thinking that we will likely try to pursue getting a device privately, because why-should-Maya-have-to-wait-for-the-Board-of-Ed-to-believe-that-she's-ready?   I believe that's she ready.  Or at least approaching ready at a speed of faster-than-a-year-from-now.


   

I will not be her limiting factor.




And I won't let the professionals** be her limiting factor, either.


 


And, just because I can't resist sharing the cutenes:

Roar!!!!  This little dragon can't wait for Halloween.

*To this end, if you know anyone who knows about augcomm, has a child with a device, works in assitive technology, etc, please email me: uncommonfeedback@gmail.com 

**Just to be clear, "the professionals" are not the people at Maya's preschool.  We love the people at Maya's preschool.  "The professionals" are the city evaluator people/BOE.