INTRODUCTION: Lost Words
It's been seventeen years, and my son, Kolton, has never spoken one word to me. All I've ever wanted to hear him say is "Daddy" and "I love you." I surround him with conversation every day, desperately waiting for him to speak or even babble words back to me. His mother, Angie, is always playing music in the house and singing to him. Kolton loves music, and I can see that they both love every second of listening to a song together.
I vocalize my strengths into my son. Sometimes I whisper things in his ear like "I love you," "You're Daddy's boy," and "I'm so proud of you." I wonder if he really understands me, or if he is able to absorb and remember my words. We have our own way of communicating, mostly through facial expressions, emotions, and other nonverbal communication that I like to call "Kolton's way." Our normal isn't like other families' normal, but I think my son understands me. Even if he doesn't verbally answer me, when I communicate with him, he gets a great big, amazing smile on his face, and he will look at me, his mom, brothers, teachers, friends and family. When their names are called or during conversation, he makes eye contact and just stares at us, smiling and listening to everything we say.
If Kolton could talk like the rest of us—if we could just find a way for him to get the words out—I know he would have a lot to say. It would change his life and ours if we were able to really talk or communicate with him, in a real conversation.
