Seizing What Could Be
Perhaps this is biased because I stutter. But maybe not because I have experienced both sides, even if my onset was over thirty years ago, I know how the story goes. Being a kid who starts to stutter and being a parent of a kid who starts to stutter can be a challenging reality to
It’s going to be one of the hardest conversations I will ever have. I already feel responsible for it without even knowing if it will come to fruition, but the likelihood is high. I have met many other people who stutter that have said, “oh, my uncle stutters” in response to the question as to
What’s his name? It has stopped me dead in my tracks. W hen I hear the question, I lose all ability to say anything. I can’t even open stutter. My voice goes silent and the first sound of his name gets trapped for what seems like ages in the depths of all the times I’ve struggled to
Why do you talk like that daddy? The anticipation of this question hangs ominously as I wait for my son to learn how to talk. While a toddler, his innocence extends to adults who often express the same uncertainty without saying the words. By accommodating his curiosity, I have the opportunity to describe stuttering as
My son has experienced my stutter every day of his life. He has heard, seen, and felt it in all its glory, whether he knows what it is or not. I have never hidden it from him. When he was born, I made a vow to myself that stuttering will never stand in the way
I suppose I’ve been numbing this fear. I have not stopped thinking about it since I found out I was going to be a father to a son. I sense its presence and feel how it influences my time with him, but I’m in denial when I tell my wife that I’m not afraid. Now,
Every Waking Moment 