For the first 32 years of my life, I thrived as a perfectionist. I strived for top grades, maintained a flawless driving record, and climbed the ranks in every game I played—even managing to reach the highest levels in Candy Crush. As my daughter’s due date approached, I dreamt of raising a prodigious child who would know all her colors before turning one and be reading complex chapter books by age four—okay, maybe five; I was willing to compromise.
During her first year, I eagerly tracked each developmental milestone, celebrating when she surpassed the expectations set by child development experts. By 17 months, she had her complete set of baby teeth. Clearly, she was destined for greatness! I was already envisioning flights to Stockholm for her Nobel Prize as she mastered rolling over, sitting up, and walking.
However, everything shifted a few weeks before her first birthday. We spent time with a friend’s son, who was a few months older and already beginning to recognize letters. My competitive nature ignited—if he could do it, so could my daughter! But as she turned 15 months old, the reality set in: she hadn’t even attempted to say the alphabet.
By 18 months, while other toddlers proudly showcased their expanding vocabularies, my daughter struggled to articulate simple words. “Momma” came out as a jumbled “Mamamamamama.” I was left wondering, why was she not speaking? Medical professionals reassured me, “She’s just a late bloomer. Many children don’t talk until they’re two. Just give her time.” But I didn’t want to wait. I envisioned her impressing our friends at her second birthday party by reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.
After she turned two, we began to seek answers. We encountered terms like “autism” and “hearing impairment.” We consulted various specialists, from audiologists to therapists, until we finally received a diagnosis that made sense: apraxia. I had to confront the reality that my daughter might not be the youngest child in her Sunday school class to recite the alphabet backward. In fact, she wouldn’t utter any recognizable words until after her third birthday. It took six months of speech therapy just for her to grasp the letter “B.”
Apraxia tested my inner overachiever. It felt as though all my aspirations for her had come to a halt. How could I teach her 200 sight words before kindergarten if I couldn’t understand her? How would I know if she could count to 100 when her speech was limited? Would she ever be able to give a valedictorian speech if she struggled to communicate?
Now, eight months post-diagnosis, this vibrant little girl has shown me the beauty of embracing her unique path. The accolades I once craved for her might never materialize, and that’s okay. Apraxia does not provide a clear milestone roadmap; it’s a vast unknown. This uncertainty frustrates me because I am goal-oriented, longing for tangible milestones to check off our list. I often find myself wanting to know if she will ever catch up to her peers—though I know she may not.
Yet, I’ve come to realize that true progress is not defined by her ability to form consonant sounds. In my eyes, she is already an overachiever. Each day, she navigates life with a challenge that makes one of the most fundamental human abilities incredibly tough. While she could easily feel embarrassed, she chooses not to. She’s aware of her condition but remains a lively social butterfly, enjoying singing, immersing herself in books, and making friends wherever she goes.
My daughter’s journey with apraxia has taught me the importance of savoring each moment as her life unfolds. I’ve learned to release my expectations and embrace who she truly is. Instead of wishing for a childhood shaped by my ideals, I want to accompany her at her own pace and on her timeline.
The road with apraxia may be lengthy, but who knows? There might still be that valedictorian speech waiting for her at the end.
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Summary
In this reflection, I discuss my journey as a parent of a child with apraxia, transitioning from hopes of perfectionism to embracing my daughter’s individual timeline. While challenges arise, I have learned to celebrate her unique achievements and enjoy the path we walk together.