December 4, 2022
Communication Does Not Have to Be Verbal
My son Cooper is nonspeaking.
I know that’s a confusing classification. I even sometimes struggle to explain it.
See when it comes to autism, and the spectrum you hear about, the waters are often muddy.
He said his first word at age 8. It was mom. Now he says it no less than 50 times a day. But he couldn’t tell you his name under pressure or if he is in pain.
He can’t use the phone but he can type the name of his favorite movie into YouTube.
He loves using his hands to communicate. When he’s hungry he often plays a scene from Sid the Science kid that says…I’m so hungry.
On my birthday he finds the birthday episode of Dora and dances to it while holding my hands.
Sometimes he uses a computer to speak. He presses buttons and an automated voice will say zoo or Santa or Grandma.
He’s taught me that communication does not have to be verbal.
He’s taught me to listen with more than my ears.
This morning my son laughed. It was deep from his belly. He threw his head back and his eyes sparked and his hands danced.
I asked him if he was happy or sad.
HHH-A-PPP-EEE.
He’s had a tough few weeks. Changes with school. A pretty rough case of the flu.
And then on Thursday, I noticed his eye was swollen.
But he didn’t complain. Not once.
He never told me it hurt. He never asked for help or a hug.
I noticed he seemed tired. Quieter. Staying close to my side.
Suddenly an episode of Daniel Tiger going to the doctor was on repeat on his iPad.
And his laughter. I couldn’t remember hearing it.
We went to the doctor immediately.
Cellulitis in his eye. A dangerous diagnosis for anyone. For a nonspeaking individual who isn’t able to share pain…it’s very dangerous.
He spent the day near me. Exactly where I needed him to be.
And then this morning, at 4:45 am, he touched my face ever so gently.
And giggles. In the dark.
Laughter. Joy. Communication without words.
He was back. The antibiotics doing their job.
When I think about autism, and its mysteries, I think about how much I have learned from this boy.
Belonging to him. Being his person. It’s a gift I tell ya.
To hear with one’s heart.
Three sleeps until his birthday. 7 until his party.
10 presents and 5 balloons and 1 cake.
What a beautiful life it is.
This piece was written by Kate of Finding Cooper’s Voice and author of Forever Boy.
Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook.
