A Letter to my Daughter, You’ve Come So Far

Dear Emma, my beautiful daughter.

You just turned three and a half and I still wait to hear a word…any word… from your sweet little mouth.

You will be four soon and I can’t help but think back to that day. The day I was told you were autistic and ‘that you might never learn to speak.’

I have heard that sentence so many times now you’d think I would be able to just brush it off. Be over it. But every time I hear it, it flaws me. I pretend to be composed. I go silent. I just use my energy to stand still and breathe.

And then I breathe deeply, purse my lips and remember. I remember how far you have come since ‘that day.’

How far we have come.

We have had more early intervention then I could imagine was possible. Days in and out of solid interaction.

When you lined things up I was there…interrupting and extending your play. Pulling you into my world and out of yours.

You would avoid me and start lining up play dough containers… I would follow you…you would leave me to line up your picnic seat… I would follow you.

You would hand lead me to doors, the fridge, a cupboard. I would wait patiently for that very single split second of eye contact before instantly opening them.

You didn’t want to eat at the table. I redirected you through your tantrums, those chaotic tantrums, and rewarded you for sitting for only seconds…then minutes.

You were relentless. You tested me. You tested me to my absolute breaking point and then one day I noticed.

I noticed how far you have come my daughter.

You have some imaginative play now. You put your dolls in a high chair or pram. You feed them.

You use PECs now to communicate. I cried when you gave me that card for the first time. The look in your eye that you figured it out. That smile. You smile now!

Today, you stopped playing and looked up at me. You looked me in the eyes for probably 15 seconds. I had to force myself to keep smiling back at you because all I wanted to do was cry. I was so happy. I saw you. I saw your beautiful crystal clear blue eyes.

I saw you last week in your speech therapists arms. You were pointing. Pointing! At photos on a wall.

You know your name now Emma. That beautiful name.

And although deep down I know that I may never get to hear your beautiful voice and that this pains me too much to bear some days… most days… I’m learning that things change, things become different and that I can not give up. We can not give up!

Keep going beautiful girl.

Your Mum

Written by Erica May

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