A mother’s journey!
The Day I Realized Something Was Different
It was Rohan’s third birthday party. The house was decorated with his favourite cartoon characters, a chocolate cake waited on the table, and a small group of family members gathered around singing “Happy Birthday.” But while other children his age would have been bouncing with excitement, Rohan seemed in his own world. He didn’t look up when we called his name, showed no interest in blowing out candles, and became upset with all the attention.
My sister-in-law’s son, just six months younger, was already speaking in short sentences and eagerly pointing at gifts. The contrast was impossible to ignore. That night, after everyone left, I sat on Rohan’s bed watching him stack blocks with intense focus, and I finally admitted to myself what I had been avoiding for months.
“Just a Late Bloomer” – What Everyone Kept Telling Me
“Ladke thoda der se bolne shuru karte hain,” my mother-in-law assured me. “Mere bhaiya ne 4 saal der se bolna shuru kiya, aaj dekho engineer ban gaya!” my husband would say. Our pediatrician initially suggested we wait and watch, saying, “Some children develop at their own pace.”
These reassurances were comforting but delayed our search for answers. In our community, developmental delays often carry stigma, so family members preferred optimistic explanations. I wanted to believe them. But as Rohan approached his third birthday without calling me “Mama” while his cousins chatted away, those reassurances felt increasingly hollow.
Our Obsession with Words
Like many Indian parents, I valued academic achievement. I bought flashcards, downloaded educational apps, and spent hours pointing at objects, repeating their names: “Ball. Say ball, Rohan. Ball.” I enrolled him in a play group where teachers focused on ABCs and counting.
When he didn’t respond, I tried harder. I scheduled “speech practice” sessions twice daily. I recorded videos of children singing rhymes and played them constantly. I was convinced that with enough exposure and practice, the words would come.
The Turning Point: A Chance Conversation
At the playground one evening, I watched Rohan spinning in circles, ignoring the other children. A mother sat down beside me and gently asked about Rohan. Something in her understanding eyes made me open up about my struggles.
“Before my daughter started talking,” she said, “we had to build her social foundation. Speech is like a house – you can’t build the roof before laying the foundation.”
She explained her daughter’s autism diagnosis and the early intervention that helped. Unlike the overwhelming medical explanations I’d encountered online, her perspective made simple, practical sense.
What the Experts Never Explained About Communication
That conversation led me to research and eventually to a developmental pediatrician who explained what no one had before: communication isn’t just words. It’s a complex pyramid with fundamental social skills at the base.
The doctor showed me a developmental chart. “Before children speak, they typically make eye contact, smile socially, point to share interest, and respond to their names. These preverbal skills are the building blocks for meaningful speech.”
Rohan could memorize and echo words but struggled with these foundational skills. I had been focusing on the top of the pyramid while the base needed strengthening.
Eye Contact: The Gateway I Never Knew Existed
Following guidance from our new therapy program, I began simple games focused solely on eye contact. I held Rohan’s favourite toy near my eyes before giving it to him. I played peek-a-boo, waiting for eye contact before revealing my face. I sat on the floor at his level, joining his play rather than directing it.
Initially, progress was subtle. A fleeting glance. A momentary connection. But those brief moments were more meaningful than hours of repeating words had ever been.
Finding Joy in the Small Victories
After three weeks of consistent eye-contact games, it happened. I called “Rohan!” from across the room, and he looked up, directly at me, with recognition. It wasn’t speech, but tears filled my eyes because it was actual communication – the first time I truly felt he connected his name with himself and me.
We celebrated these small moments. When he brought me a toy to show me (not to request help, but to share interest), it was a breakthrough. When he began imitating my facial expressions during our mirror games, my husband and I exchanged glances of hope.
Our New Daily Rhythm: Connection Over Curriculum
We established routines that prioritized connection. Mornings began with “special time” where I followed Rohan’s lead in play. Mealtimes became opportunities for shared attention rather than distracted feeding. Bedtime included sensory-rich stories with animated expressions.
I learned to pause, wait, and create communication opportunities rather than filling silence with my own words. I discovered that by talking less, I gave Rohan more chances to communicate in his own way.
The Ripple Effect on Our Family
As Rohan began engaging more, our entire family dynamic shifted. His grandparents learned to play with him differently. His father, initially skeptical of the new approach, became a believer after Rohan began seeking him out to do masti and play.
The stress that had pervaded our home lessened. We laughed more. We connected more deeply not just with Rohan but with each other.
Post-Pandemic Parenting: What COVID Took From Our Children
Rohan was barely a year old when the pandemic began. Social gatherings ceased, masks covered faces, and interactions became limited. Our pediatrician explained that the pandemic created a “social deprivation experiment,” particularly impacting children with predispositions to social challenges.
Understanding this helped me let go of guilt and focus on providing Rohan with the social experiences he missed during those crucial early years.
The First Words That Finally Came
Six months into our new approach, Rohan said “Mama” while looking directly into my eyes. Unlike his previous scripted echoing, this was intentional communication. Soon after came “Papa,” “car,” and “Ka” (The Crow) – not many words by typical standards, but each was used meaningfully to connect with us.
These words were different from the rote repetitions I had pushed for earlier. They emerged naturally from our connection, carrying genuine intent to share and communicate.
What I Wish I Had Known from the Beginning
If I could go back in time, I would tell my worried self: “Focus on connection, not collection of words. Meet your child where they are instead of where milestones say they should be. Celebrate social engagement as the true foundation of communication.”
I would explain that in our rush to have our children achieve academically, we sometimes miss the fundamental human connections that make learning meaningful. A child who can recite the alphabet without looking at you is missing the essence of what communication is about.
Finding Support That Actually Works
The guidance we received through NHCDC’s E-nable program transformed our approach. Instead of feeling helpless, we became empowered as Rohan’s most important therapists. The weekly online coaching sessions taught us practical strategies tailored to Rohan’s specific needs, while monthly evaluations helped us celebrate progress and adjust our approach as needed.
Having professional support that respected our family’s routines and cultural context made all the difference. We weren’t implementing Western approaches that felt foreign to our lifestyle – we were learning techniques adapted for our Indian home and values.
Your child doesn’t only need you to be their teacher – they also need you to be their connection to the world. Imagine where they could be one month from now with the right guidance behind you. NHCDC’s E-nable program helped us find our way home to each other. The journey to connection is waiting for you too, just one call away.
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