My Name is Zekers

Today is a day to celebrate!

Around April we noticed Zekers was getting lazy in his speech. "Please" became "plz" and "Zekers" became "Zkers"; basically, he wasn't pronouncing certain vowels. Several weeks later, it became apparent that some major regression had taken place. He spoke almost entirely through his nose and most of it sounded like jibberish. Even Rachel, his expert translator, couldn't understand him. (Of course, rather than admit defeat, she invented all kinds of interesting phrases, claiming that was what he meant to say.) His speech continued to worsen and was so bad during July that friends and family began really noticing the change and wondering what was going on.

We used to laugh at him because when he began talking at 18 months, it was always in complete sentences, and always with perfect enunciation. It was comical watching him try so hard to say every word clearly. Now, he'd cry, mumbling incoherently, so that we couldn't understand what it was that he needed.

I thought, it must be something simple like water in his ears or some kind of health issue impairing his hearing. A trip to the pediatrician, however, only revealed that we had a little boy in great health, with above average hearing, who couldn't talk anymore. The doctor himself was baffled, and referred us to a spech therapist at Children's. The appointment was scheduled for August 23.

I tried not to worry, but this nagging doubt kept tugging at my mind. What if something's wrong with him? What if this is irreparable? My dad suggested that maybe it was psychological - some kind of family dynamic thing. This really upset me, because it made sense. But it also made me feel incredibly guilty. Zekers has been the "neglected one" of the family. He's so low-maintainance: he entertains himself and doesn't demand a whole lot of attetion, unlike his sisters. Sometimes I realize he's still at the breakfast table, just sitting there talking to himself, when the rest of us have been in the living room playing for 30 minutes!

Anyway, all these fears were going through my head - making me think I'd somehow damaged him for life. And then yesterday he started talking.

We were out running errands and he told me he wanted something. I told him he needed to say please, and he said it. I grabbed his shoulders and almost screamed, WHAT DID YOU SAY?! And he said it again, clear as a bell. For the next five minutes, all the poor kid did was answer a litany of questions fired at him by his hysterical mother. What is your name?(Zekers) What comes after 2? (threeee) What does a cow say? (Moooooo) I couldn't believe it! I even called Danny and had Zekers say his name over the phone so Daddy could hear. His speech had been slowly improving for a couple of weeks, but this was the first time he'd pronounced some of these words clearly in months.

I guess the good thing that's come from all this has been a heightened awareness that my son needs my attention even though he doesn't demand it in obvious ways. We've made such a big deal over Karis, especially during the spring and summer when she's been hurdling so many major milestones like crawling and walking, that sometimes our sweet little Zekers goes unnoticed. I've been making sure to give him extra hugs, and snuggle with him a little longer at bedtime and sing to him more.

And now that his speech has pretty much cleared itself up, I can turn all my energy to fretting over the fact that he's still not potty trained!