By “Everyone, everyone, we got a job over here, 50 miles away. There’s a big hole that has to be filled. C’mon!” my son proclaimed to the entire gathering of parents and children at a 5-year-old friends’ birthday party. He was holding a pretend cellphone while straddling a big wheel atop the hill in their backyard. The parents and kids within earshot turned and chuckled, captivated by his imagination influenced by many episodes of Bob the Builder.
I marveled. He stuttered through it all. And no one laughed at how he said his words. It is hard not to notice the significance of such a moment—he felt comfortable to express something that passionately ran through his endearing personality to a crowd of about 20 strangers. He took up space when and how he wanted, saying what he wanted, without hesitation.
Let’s rewind several months because there has been a progression.
“Um-um-um-um-um”
“But-but-but-but-but”
For several weeks, he would hold his place in conversation, on Facetime or in whatever space he was in, with filler words. I could always tell he didn’t want to cede the floor even though he wasn’t necessarily stuttering on a word. I didn’t see it then, but this was how he was figuring out how to participate in a communicative interaction.
Around this same time, an explosion occurred in both his imagination and storytelling skills. Everything became a story. From imagined, to devised from real life, and finally his desires to be a delivery man or a farmer when he grows up. And, eventually, he wouldn’t shut up as if it was impossible for him to run out of words to keep the stories going. Endless and wondrous, in excitement and procrastination, there was no space left for us!
We give him the floor for as long as he wants it. But as he learns and we understand when interruptions have no link to his stuttering, we have set some boundaries that allow for a healthy communicative environment. “It’s mama’s turn to talk, can you wait until she’s done?” we say, and follow up with, “what were you going to say, buddy?” He sees the flow, listens attentively to the back and forth, and interjects when his turn comes around.
It is not strict or overdone and is letting him see firsthand the boundaries of respectful, considerate communication. If we break the rules, he calls us out, and says “Mama, it’s daddy’s turn to talk.”
What if we interrupted him and said “say that again” or “hang on, start over and take your time.” Well, we would be stifling his budding imagination and zest for communicating his inner reality. When the joy is taken or not curated, children who stutter will begin to slink back into themselves, especially while they’re internalizing the various forms of feedback from the world around them.
There are some nights after bath time when he doesn’t want to brush his teeth, and it’s already been a long day, yet his stories run on and on, with his free-flowing stuttering giving them character. He doesn’t lose his train of thought between the bumps and keeps you on your toes. Now imagine if that time was silent, he willingly brushed his teeth, and suppressed his gregarious personality because he felt we weren’t accepting of his voice? This is what runs through my mind.
His young, impressionable mind is developing his public persona with his stutter as he engages with others. And the reality is the time may come when he hesitates, but, then again, it also might not. Always taking the floor without the risk of exposing what is not actually a vulnerability, rather his strength and never without his stutter.
As I wrote this post, he gave the world a glimpse of the kind of space every parent wishes their kid would take. His teacher pulled my wife aside and told her a funny story.
“I have to tell you the funniest thing. The other day after naptime the girls were making fun of their classmate for not being able to fold her blanket. She ran to the bathroom crying. Your son came to her aid, stepped into the scene, put his hands on his hips, and proclaimed—with all his charm—’what did you do to my girl!’”
Glimpses like these reassure me that he is keeping his stutter above the surface where it is being woven into fabric of who he is becoming. He is not creating a version of himself that he will yearn to become. He is taking space, when and how he wants, without ever knowing that it could be anything other than the thing he should be doing. And in doing so, he lights up every moment just by being in it and softens my bated breath.
For more on my experiences of being a parent who stutters of a son who stutters, see the following posts I have written since onset two years ago.
Sailboat, Cross, American Flag, Heart, Little Moon
Why Don’t You Ever Say My Name?
The Freakout: How We React is How They React
Thank You For Sharing A Wonderful Day
Day One: He Noticed His Difference
The Wince: ‘Holding Space’ For Our Son
Letting Go of Control: My Reaction to His Stutter in Public
I Have A Son Who Stutters: Acceptance as a Parent Who Stutters
Every Waking Moment 