A Mommy Story

It’s been six months now since we took Mira to a Help Me Grow screening for her speech issues. At that point, they ordered a full evaluation, which was done in December. While thankfully Mira shows no signs of autism, she was diagnosed with a speech delay, and recommended for speech therapy right away.

We had a few choices for therapy, including taking her to center for speech therapy, having someone come to the house for therapy, or enrolling her in the early intervention school. Our case worker advised us that the first option was likely to take the least amount of time, with the average waiting period being six to eight weeks. Wanting to get Mira started as soon as possible, we chose the first option.

Fast forward to April.

We still haven’t received a call about a spot for her in therapy. Well, that’s not quite true – we did receive a message in February about a spot, but when we called back they told us there was no spot and seemed puzzled as to why we thought there was a spot for her. Hmmm…

Mid-April, our case worker checked in, and we told her we were still waiting. She made some calls, and soon we had a spot for the end of the month. We took the appointment without argument – the good thing about being unemployed at the moment is we can rearrange our schedules if needed.

Aaron took Mira to the appointment that day, and later in the evening told me about how it went. The therapist evaluated her to figure out a starting point, gave Aaron some exercises to do at home, and sent them on their way. No follow up appointment, because they had none available. Turns out, they fit her into a single empty space, with no chance at further appointments in the near future. The therapist also seemed unconcerned with Mira’s speech.

The exercises we were given are things we already do. We name any item we give to her, we encourage her to repeat words back to us, and of course we talk to her. (Seriously, “talk to her more” was one of the handwritten helpful hints. Like we’re locking her in a closet all day by herself.)

I make the poor kid talk to me all day. I try over-enunciating words, exaggerating my face to show her how to make sounds. She has to try to say a word before I’ll give her the object. And all that comes out of her mouth are vowel sounds and the occasional n sound.

(She showed me she could count for the first time today, too. As she handed me cups, she solemnly pronounced “oooon, ooooo, eeee, ooouh, iiiiieh.” Good thing I’m learning to speak Mira-ese, or in her language, Iiiaaah-eee.)

I understand the system is likely overworked and understaffed. But I feel like Mira is falling through the cracks. When Cordy went to her early intervention screenings, she was immediately transferred to the school system because she was almost three. And the school system has done an excellent job. At her recent evaluation, I was praised for getting Cordy help at an early age, and told it was evident how well she’s responding to therapy.

Mira will be two soon – she has another year to go before the school system could pick up her case. Six months is already a long time to go with no progress – another year could now go down the drain. Mira is supposed to get speech therapy three days a month. We’ve been told May is completely full, and June isn’t looking good, either.

I know I’m showing my neurotic, overprotective mama bear side of me. Her pediatrician said that the medical community doesn’t even care about speech delays until a child is four. But knowing that the sooner you intervene, the better the result, I’d rather be proactive. I’d rather not risk her hitting three or four years old and hearing a doctor or speech therapist say, “Oh, she really has a speech problem – why didn’t you get her help earlier?” Because then they would have to listen to the primal scream I would let loose in response to keep my head from exploding. And no one wants that.