In the speech therapist office

My son, Farouk, doesn't speak.

Not even a word.

Month after month I was waiting for the words to start flowing from his small lips, but nothing like that happened. I got my second son, Soulaymen, 2y younger, and wished that interaction with his brother and sister would help him to speak.

It didn't.

The speech delay

I started worrying when he reached his 3rd year. His father consulted a pedo psychiatrist who confirmed that Farouk has a simple speech delay, no autism, no ADHD, and will soon speak.

He didn't.

All the kids of the family by the same age, 3 years and a half back then, were singing. My son wasn't able to speak, to express what he wants, he couldn't find another way to tell about his feelings but violence and hyperactivity.

But the doctor said he will speak.

I had over 4 years of experience dealing with kids in kindergartens. I worked first as an animator then as a director of a kindergarten, created a number of programs, activities, syllabus, and organized a lot of parties and events. I had got a big number of courses and training in the field, even traveled to other cities to learn from the best on the field, and received a number of certificates and certifications. So I KNOW how to deal with kids, all types of kids, by theory and by practice. I was even teaching about the subject.

"You know how to help him to speak.", my husband kept saying.

He should be right.

But the point is that I failed.

I failed

I was unable to help my OWN son to start speaking. I have done all the activities that I learned in my past experience and those that I read about on the internet, but still, no word came out of his lips.

It was a huge emotional pain for me as a mother worried about her son's ability to speak and violence towards others, "unpolite" they perceive him. On the other side, all the family was blaming me for not taking him to a therapist: "what an uncaring mother!". Meanwhile, my husband was convinced I have all that it takes to help him with that. He has seen me in action, known my reputation in the field, and touched my excellence in dealing with kids.

But the point is that I failed.

I tried everything all and I failed.

In May 2017, I said enough is enough.

I took my son to the speech therapist.

After the consultation with Badr, the therapist, he told me about his opinion. Nothing dangerous, a simple speech delay. This sentence was enough for me to break into tears. I was hearing the same sentence for more than 2 years and couldn't help my son.

How can it be simple if I can do nothing about it?

"How can a bold woman like you break into tears like that for a simple speech delay? Anyone can see your confidence and bravery, how can you be so affected by the simplest disorder that a child may have.", he exclaimed eyes opened.

"Because I couldn't do anything about it alone", come out of my lips mixed with tears.

"Sure. Because you are not a speech therapist", he replied confidently, "let me take care of that, everything will be all right soon".

I didn't believe much. That was A PROBLEM for me, a life or death one. It couldn't be easy to solve. It shouldn't.

It was the month of Ramadan and we were, my son and I, visiting the speech therapist 3 times per week. As Badr was not only known for being very skilled, but also for being very bad with appointments, I was spending 3 to 4 hours in his waiting room basically praying for my son.

In the waiting room of the speech therapist

I saw kids with Down's syndrome, autism, swallowing problems, and a number of other problems that I have never heard about before. I met different types of mothers also, uncaring, over-caring, bold mothers, and emotional ones. Me I was the Islam advocate one. Yes in Islamic countries also, and especially, we need to advocate for Islam and faith in Allah SWT.

I was physically very tired. Fasting, homework, being outside for hours, returning to the home to take care of kids, 2 of them with diapers, preparing breakfast, and an endless list of activities... But I was hoping and praying all the time. I had a strong faith, a muscle that I developed back then and had since served me so powerfully in various ways.

Recovery

As a general rule, kids with speech delay, most of them boys, take at least 36 sessions to start speaking. After 12 sessions Farouk started repeating the words that I prompt to his mouth. I was dancing with happiness. At the age of 3 years and a half, he started speaking as an 18months toddler would do. I remember the day before Eid Fitr when Badr called me to say "Your son is ok now. Congratulations!"

It was the best Eid gift that I had ever received in my life. Mothers in the waiting room who were visiting him for years hadn't experienced the same results. I remember one of them was his client for 4 consecutive years with 0 results, but his mother kept coming. I was very sorry for them.

I couldn't visit him again after that because we were short of money. I wish we could afford it. But I kept teaching my son new words every day. I knew that a 3y kid should compose 3 words sentences, a 4y kid should be able to compose 4 words ones.

Do you believe that I was counting the words of his sentences and celebrating every time he can make a longer one?

Lessons learned

Only parents who had a kid with difficulties can understand what I felt in this experience. Being unable to help your kid wherever your partner believes you can. People accusing you of not being a good mother. Having all this mixture of guilt and "why is this happening to me?" feelings and taking solely a family decision was very uncomfortable for me.

I learned back then the importance of asking for help.

It is ok to ask for help.

I learned to follow my heart. To listen to my gut. To disagree with whom I love. To move on in the incertitude, in the guilt, in the dark, where my only light was my faith.

( وَلَمْ أَكُنْ بِدُعَائِكَ رَبِّ شَقِيًّا )

I learned that I don't need the consent of anyone to take action, that even short of money I can still afford things, and that standards aren't always accurate.

I learned a lot of stuff. Not only my son recovered from the speech delay, but I also recovered from people pleasing, affirmation and criticism. I no more care about what people think of me.

I learned, mostly, that bravery is a must. It is not a choice.