When my son Cooper was diagnosed with autism at age three they told me he was nonverbal.
I didn’t even know that was a thing.
At age five they told me he might never speak.
I didn’t know that was a possibility.
At age six the silence was deafening. So we dove into alternate forms of communication.
And I learned in a painful beautiful way that communication was the goal. Not words.
It took time though. Time for my mind and heart to accept. To settle in.
This morning, before his siblings woke up, he tapped me on the shoulder.
It was early. My coffee was hot. My brain was fuzzy.
‘M – AW – M’ (mom)
He touched my arm gently. Then my cheek, turning my head to look at his iPad.
Airplane, said the iPad.
I looked to him. His eyes were full of joy.
He covered his mouth, giggling!
‘Do you want to fly in an airplane Cooper?’
The most joyous yes accompanied by a hand up in the air.
‘Do you want to ride in an airplane and go see the whales Cooper?’
Another yes. This one with clapping!
Then he tapped my chest and his. Back and forth.
‘M – AW – M’ (mom)
I repeated it back to him.
‘Do you want to ride in an airplane and go see the whales with mom and brother?’
That got me a hug. And the sign for thank you.
Communication. It’s a glimpse inside his world.
It’s his needs and hopes and dreams and his joy.
It’s the most beautiful thing.
This is our nonspeaking autism at age 12.
Airplanes and whales and a trip with his brother.
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