The Wonder of Spoken Words
Read Time: 4 Minutes
Words by Kimberly Knowle-Zeller
I don’t remember the first time I worried about my daughter’s speech, or lack thereof. Like many of my experiences with motherhood, the worry lodged itself in my brain lying just below the surface. When I heard other children her age speaking words, I worried when she didn’t say any. When I talked with other mother’s sharing their laughter at the phrases their children were saying, I didn’t have anything to add. When I read websites and google searched speech delays, I felt the anxiety rising as I could check a number of characteristics that fit my daughter.
Anytime a friend or family member told me, “Oh, she’ll talk when she’s ready,” I simultaneously felt relief and concern. Sure, there were plenty of children who were late bloomers and once they started talking, they never stopped. But my daughter, Charlotte, wasn’t talking at all. All I could think about was that fact.
Some days the shortage of words wore heavier than others. A weight found in the lacking, like the season of a drought. Yet this shortage of words didn’t translate to quiet. We heard plenty of sounds from Charlotte. Her voice consisted of a mix of screams, cheers, squawks, attempts at words, made up words, and laughter. Quiet was not our reality. Our reality, in actuality, was much more chaotic, messy, and frustrating.
At 18 months, we took our daughter for her well visit check-up. When the doctor asked about speech and how many words Charlotte spoke, we were silenced. There were some sounds that could be considered words, but I knew that in reality, she had none.
“I’d like to refer her for a speech consult,'' she told us. “She should have some words by now.”
My husband and I hemmed and hawed about making the appointment. My internal monologue vacillated between: She’s only a year and a half. We’ve heard from so many others that their child didn’t talk till two. She’s got time so many said. I hesitated to make the appointment and at the same time wished she was receiving help already. I feared what a speech evaluation would show.
Eventually, we did get a consult. Looking back now I see this was a turning point. There was a season of appointments and evaluations until we found the place that began to help Charlotte find her voice. Next, there’s another season of weekly and sometimes two or three times a week appointments for speech therapy. We drove 45 minutes one way for a 45 minute session to then return home. Yet, I knew there’s no drive too far for getting the help my daughter needed.
At three years old, Charlotte spoke no discernable words.
At four, she was able to say sounds and repeat words.
At five, she could speak in sentences.
For two years we practiced sounds and words at home. We were delighted at new words. I stopped Googling speech disorders and took the time to give thanks for the daughter in front of me. The daughter who was finding her voice thanks to the help and work of speech therapists. Some days I lamented the fact that it felt like all we did was speech and practicing words over and over. While other days I worried we weren’t doing enough. In the day to day moments, I still worried about whether Charlotte would talk like other children her age. But over and over again, Charlotte showed me the importance of giving thanks for what’s right in front of me.
A few months before she turned six, Charlotte started kindergarten.
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At 3:05, the sun shines as I wait for Charlotte to run through the cafeteria doors at the end of the school day. I see her pink coat first and watch her hands snatch her mask from her face. Soon all I see is her smile. She barrels into me with her arms around my waist and slips her backpack from her shoulders.
“Did you have a good day?” I ask, as she balances the bag on her knee and unzips the zipper.
“Look what’s in my folder today.” She tells me with a grin, her hair falling into her eyes. I take the folder from her hands and scan through the site words to practice, the December kindergarten newsletter, and a sheet with her name in red marker followed with the words: Please memorize. My daughter had a speaking part in the Christmas pageant. My heart sank with worry.
The one sheet contains the lines for the upcoming virtual Christmas program. Charlotte’s been singing Rudolph and showing us her dance moves each night, and now we have an added layer to the program.
Charlotte please memorize: “Candy canes, bowls of punch, and of course, Rudolph’s nose.”
Over dinner that night sitting across from each other, I tell Charlotte we’re going to practice her line. Earlier I felt nervous thinking about Charlotte having a speaking role. My mind raced with questions: will she be able to pronounce all the words? Can she say all the sounds? My first response is to remember when she had no words while other kids her age were already speaking in sentences.
“I’ll go first,” I tell her. “Candy canes…” I lean forward and nod my head to encourage her to speak.
“Bowls of punch, and of course, Rudolph’s nose.” Charlotte speeds through her entire line. She laughs and covers her face with her hands.
I can’t believe I doubted and worried about this one line. Haven’t I been watching Charlotte bring her voice into the world since the age of three? Haven’t I been the one at every speech therapy session witnessing her determination and hard work? Hasn’t Charlotte taught me that it takes one sound at a time? Step by step.
I know my daughter still has a journey to finding her full voice. There’s much work to be done to connect her brain and mouth muscles. Some sounds are more difficult to say than others. There are muscles that need to be strengthened. There is syntax and structure to work on. But she’ll get there. And so will I. Together.
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About the Author:
Kimberly Knowle-Zeller is a pastor in the Lutheran church, writer, and mother living in Central Missouri with her husband and two children under 6. Her stories on faith and motherhood have appeared in Coffee + Crumbs, Living Lutheran, Her View From Home, The Christian Century, and more.
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