It’s All Connected

And I knew it was. 

What’s all connected, you may be asking.  Here’s the answer…it’s a long one, and while I will try to be funny, I can’t make any promises. 

My son, my three-year-old, has a fairly significant speech delay.  He talks, but not much and what he says is unintelligible.  The funny thing is, in spite of the fact that I’m the only one who ever has any clue what he’s saying (and even I guess quite frequently), he actually makes his point abundantly clear with gestures and grunts.  Whenever possible, my 4-year-old niece translates for him, or just tells us her version of what he wants (as in, “when I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you.”), but she’s not always available for hire.  Anyway, the running joke has been, “for a kid who can’t talk, he sure gets his point across.”

In addition to his speech delay, he snores like a jackhammer, breathes through his mouth and is chronically stuffed up.  Now in the grand scheme of “things that could be wrong with your children,” this is all quite minor.  I realize that I am very lucky to have not one but two happy, healthy children.  However, this is still a problem that affects his (and my) life on a daily basis.  He’s given to fits and tantrums, as all three-year-olds are, but I often wonder if he would have fewer if speech came easier to him. 

Plus, kids are funny and they say hilarious things.  They astound their parents with their observations and questions.  It kills me that part of him is locked away behind a mouth and tongue that won’t cooperate when his brain tells them to.

He was in Birth to Three for a while, then he turned 3 and aged out.  At that point, we enrolled him in a special education preschool class through the town.  He is definitely making progress, but it’s slow and tedious progress.  Every syllable that he utters clearly feels like a victory, but then he’ll go right back to adding the “d” sound to everything he says.

So why is he speech delayed?  I have been dying for this answer for quite some time.  Low tone was the official Birth to Three diagnosis.  It made sense to me because he always had this hang-dog open-mouth look, so the speech therapists kind of jumped on that and the fact that it wasn’t apraxia or hearing loss.  My family always seemed skeptical, but as there was no other clear cause, I went with it. 

Finally, my cousin, who also happens to be a speech therapist, suggested we take him to ENT (ear, nose and throat) doctor.

I took him to one through Connecticut Children’s Medical Center even though my husband and I had heard good things about a private practice ENT a few towns over.  I hated the CCMC doctor.  He was brusque and dismissive, didn’t seem interested in my kid or his issues and did nothing to make the exam easier on my child.

Husband and I decided a second opinion was in order.

So I scheduled an appointment with the recommended doctor and I could already tell over the phone that I liked their practice.  It was night and day.  The whole office was bright and colorful, with toys everywhere.  The doctor took an extensive history (in another toy-filled office).  Then he did the exam, employing more toys to distract my child while he looked in his ears, nose and throat.

He determined that my little guy has fluid in his ears, swollen adenoids and potential allergies. 

“It’s all connected,” he said.  The swollen adenoids cause fluid build-up, which means he’s not hearing properly; if he’s not hearing speech properly, he can’t recreate speech properly.  Plus he’s not moving air through his nose and throat properly because he’s so stuffed up from the swollen adenoids and chronic rhinitis (aka chronic stuffy nose).

In my heart of hearts, I knew there was more going on.  To hear someone say, “it’s all connected” felt like a validation. 

I started him on his meds that day.  That night when he went to bed, he was breathing so silently, I actually put my hand on his chest to make sure he was, in fact, breathing. 

Sunday night, his breathing was loud and ragged.  He sweated profusely at the effort to pass air though a nasal system that was

almost completely blocked.

Monday night, he breathed so freely and easily, I could barely hold back tears as I listened to him.

With any luck, the regimen of medications he’s on will clear up the swelling and fluid.  We’ll have to continue to give him nasal spray and use a humidifier at night.  If the medications don’t work, we may be looking at surgery for tube insertion and adenoid removal. 

Only time will tell.