Bachelor of Arts.
I attended Texas A&M University for my bachelor’s degree. TAMU is broadly known as an engineering school, with equally strong veterinarian and agricultural programs. In fact, the “A” in Texas A&M originally stood for agriculture.
I didn’t (still don’t) want to be an engineer. Or a lawyer. Or teacher. Or anything easily explained at a dinner party. I opted for a Communications degree and tacked on a Business minor to make sure it counted. Yep, I got a liberal arts degree from an engineering school. Smart, right?
My reasoning for focusing on Communications still stands - no matter what relationship you are in or what job you perform, communication is crucial for success. You can win wife-of-the-year but if you can’t effectively tell your husband to put the toilet seat down because this isn’t a frat house…you’re gonna fall in. You can be top of your class in med school, but if you can’t explain the ailment and course of treatment to your patients… you’re not getting that word of mouth referral.
Communication matters tremendously to me. How we send a message can change the course of someone’s day and I take that very seriously. You can have a difficult message to convey; communicate it in the right way.. tone.. word selection..etc. and you can change the course of that person’s mindset for the better. The same stands for the opposite - convey it poorly, ruin their day. Week. Month. If you’ve ever admired a leader or public figure, I’m willing to bet s/he honed their communication skills.
Ellie says one word verbally - “mama.” We worked on this word for a year and a half, maybe two. I lost count. If she only ever says one word, I guess I should be thrilled it’s “mama”. Even though she can say it, she doesn’t do so without prompting. She doesn’t say it to get my attention, ask for help, or anything. She only says it when I ask her to, and even then it’s not always because.. well, three year old. Hearing her say it makes me hopeful that she will one day verbally communicate and simultaneously.. it affirms the idea that she likely won’t… <writer pauses to wipe tear from cheek>
So, yeah, I have this sinking feeling Elliott will never communicate orally and I don’t yet know how to handle this feeling.
It destroys me to think my daughter’s thoughts, feelings, choices, anything may never be understood. She posses all of these things - she has thoughts, feelings, preferences, and much more. I know this. Her Dad knows this. Will others?
We’ve been heavily focused on sign language for a couple years now, but lately I have been throwing myself into learning to sign with a far greater sense of urgency than before. Every time the alphabet is blared from one of the thousand electronic toys thrown amidst our living space, I sign the letters. When any kid song plays from Spotify (no doubt confusing the algorithm that creates my “based on your recent listening” feed…), I sign as many words as I know - and am left with the realization that I don’t know very many. I sign with Calvin just as much as I do with Elliott. One, it’s an easy way for babies to first communicate and two, if no one else in the world will understand Elliott, I will at the very least ensure her brother does.
But let’s play this out. We’re in a restaurant, the waiter steps up to our table and asks “may I take your order?” Let’s say Ellie is 15 and Cal is 12. Cal looks at the waiter and tells him he would like the grilled salmon with broccolini (yeah, in my script this restaurant is fancy and Cal is an extraordinarily healthy pre-teen. Roll with it.) The waiter says “excellent choice young man” and then turns to Elliott - “and for you miss?” She begins signing that she would like the turkey meatballs on a bed of zoodles with the spicy marinara. The waiter gives her a perplexed look, then glances at Brad and I for guidance…
This exact script could play out in any given scenario that calls for a public interaction; though perhaps with less salmon and zoodles. Only in an interaction with someone who knows ASL would this scenario play out any differently… and not many people know ASL.
Elliott has completed her transformation into a full blown “Threenager'“ and is acting out much more frequently. She has the typical three year old acts of limit testing and rebellion but I’m noticing much more acting out as a result of frustration - her not being able to communicate her wants. Her needs. Her thoughts. She can sign about 50 words but that isn’t enough to convey all her mind has to share. If her own mother can’t understand her; how can I expect that of the world?
What’s worse than this is my reaction. I share her frustration and I know she can sense it. I often wonder {worry} if my frustration translates, to her, as disappointment. All I want is for her to communicate with me, and all she wants is to do just that.
That sentence is worth writing twice - All I want is for her to communicate with me, and all she wants is to do just that. <writer lets out a sorrowful sigh>
I’ve never known two people who want the very same thing yet cannot accomplish it. Except Romeo and Juliet, which was a devastating result of their feuding families and it was.not.real.life - so there’s that.
Every time I get Elliott up in the morning, I ask her how she slept and what she dreamed about. Then I list off suggestions - rainbows, doggies, mama and daddy and brother Cal, going back to school to see her friends and teachers, etc. She stares at me intently as I list off each dream topic. I pause after each suggestion looking for reaction; hoping she will sign “rainbow” or “school” or anything. She doesn’t.
At night, getting ready for bed, I will brush her hair as she brushes her teeth and I will talk to her. Asking her if she had fun, and referencing specifics from the day. Does she reply? She doesn’t.
So, do I stop asking her? Do I not talk to my daughter because she can’t talk to me? NO. I know she hears me! I know she understands what I’m saying to her, whether she responds or not. I have to and will keep communicating to her no matter if the lack of a reply cracks my heart a little more each time. I’m still hopeful that one day she will listen to my dream question for the #### time and clap her hands twice signing “school”. I’m still hopeful that one day she will look up at me with a mouthful of toothpaste and say “I had fun today”.
She has a tendency of surprising me; of surprising everyone.
I not so secretly wish she was inundating me with questions, requests and generalized toddler statements about dolls and the sky and cats and everything in between.
I want to hear her sing “Wheels on the Bus”.
I want her to ask me to braid her hair.
I want her to tell me she’d like to go outside to swing.
I want to hear her tattle on Calvin for taking her toy.
I dream of hearing her unfiltered, three-and-a-half year old stream of consciousness; shadowing me around the house telling me anything and everything that pops into her mind.
Above all else, I want to hear my daughter say “I love you, Mama”.
But, I’m not sure that I will. And I need to find a way to be OK with that.
So, we will work on signing it. And until her finger dexterity is top notch, my communication loving heart will continue to melt every time I hear her mighty and angelic voice speak “mama”.
Until the nexT21,
Aubrey
