Speech therapy

I'm starting Mosey in speech therapy. I took him in last week for an assessment, and today we went in to talk with the therapist after she had completed his evaluation. She told me that he is showing moderate stuttering (10% is normal for kids his age, he is showing 24%), but since it has only been going on for about 8 weeks, they normally wouldn't recommend therapy yet.

However, due to his strong family history of stuttering (me and my mom), she thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to bring him in weekly for a while to see if we can get right on top of this if it is going to be a problem. I was glad to hear this since it was what I had been thinking myself. Probably everything is going to be ok, but I don't want to take any chances.

This has been difficult for me because I will be absolutely heartbroken if Mosey has to endure a childhood of stuttering like I did. I feel very optimistic because his stuttering is much less severe than mine was at his age. He is not blocking or showing any tension or substituting words or anything, which is GOOD NEWS. He never stutters when reading or saying prayers or in other situations which for me were nearly impossible at his age. He’s experiencing "normal" disfluency, just a little more frequently than normal. My gut tells me he will outgrow this, but I also want to make sure I do everything I can possibly do to minimize any risk he may have.

Mosey is such a talkative little guy (he scored quite above average in his vocabulary and overall language development, which was no surprise to me), and it makes my heart ache to think that anything might dampen his enthusiastic little spirit.

Growing up as a stutterer was really miserable. Not only was the mockery of other kids pretty devastating, stuttering was also terrible for my self-perception. My stuttering isolated me from other kids and even from my family. My family members were certainly kind and accepting and wonderful, but when a kid can't express herself even under the best of circumstances, let alone in competition with a bunch of other siblings, isolation is pretty inescapable. It was so lonely having all these words in my head, which I could not share with anyone-- all my deepest feelings and strong opinions, funny stories, interesting facts, beautiful, well-crafted words all crammed in my head, and being unable to share them with anyone.

I experienced nearly constant anxiety about my speech, especially at school. The absolute dread and fear of being called on in class or in church to read aloud, or to say prayers, or even having someone ask your name is something only a stutterer can really understand. And many kids are not nice, not understanding, and all too willing to single other kids out for nearly any difference. I was made fun of a lot and wow, it really hurt.

Stuttering is completely humiliating to the stutterer. It still is to me, even though I'm almost completely fluent now. Nothing can bring back that shame and embarrassment as quickly as stumbling over my name, which continues to happen every now and then.

Growing up, I went to extremes to avoid situations where I would have to use the phone or read aloud or say my name. I love my name. I would prefer to go by my full name, Gabrielle, except that I can't say it. Not even now, at least, not easily or consistently. So I go by Gabby, which is cute and fine, but really, can you imagine being forced to change your very name because of a speech problem?

Even as an adult, I know at times I've developed a reputation for irresponsibility because I dislike returning phone calls, and sometimes I just can't take talking on the phone at all. I feared and hated the phone with every particle of my being growing up. I'm still not comfortable with phones. I hated being a part of a new group where each person had to introduce him or herself. I knew that everyone's first impression of me would be of me stumbling and struggling to say my name, and that it would inevitably color how everyone thought of me. People would undoubtedly think of me as stupid or a freakshow. Even the nicest kids (and adults) can rarely overcome the societal stereotype of the bumbling, stuttering idiot. It's just a sad fact of stuttering. Even stutterers are not immune.

I'm sure the experience was good for me in some ways. My stuttering improved my writing, I am certain, because writing was my one outlet for unencumbered communication (also I'm sure the reason I tend to go on and on and on in my writing...). I also tried to excel in other ways to compensate for my stuttering, which undoubtedly helped my GPA, and padded my resume. :-)

But overall, stuttering was a miserable experience, and not one I would wish on any child. Especially my own.

So for the next 8 weeks Mosey will go in every week for a half hour and hopefully have fun and learn better control of his speech. I know that speech therapy, especially for stuttering, has come a long way in the last 30 years, and even if he does end up struggling with stuttering on a long-term basis, he has a much rosier outlook than I did. But I still can’t help but feel some guilt over possibly passing this hated trait on to him. Mosey is my most outgoing, friendly, unself-conscious child. He loves to talk to other people-- adults and kids. He is never shy to go and join a new group of kids. He has a lot to say and a great little sense of humor that is emerging. Stuttering will make all of that go away and it would be a tragedy. No, not the worst tragedy a child can suffer, but still one I desperately hope will pass him by.