A few weeks ago, my nieces visited our home for their annual week of "Camp Rankin." We meet their family at the same park, halfway between our homes, each year to pick up and drop off the girls. Visiting a playground only once a year provides amazing insight into the changes in Nathaniel's physical abilities. In 2015, he kept his feet on solid ground. Walking on the uneven park surface carrying his tube feed in a backpack was challenging enough. In 2016, he was comfortable walking up a ramp to the lowest play area. His aunt and cousin were watchful spotters to his emerging climbing skills in 2017. This year it was hard for any of us to keep up.

Nathaniel pinched play dough bits off the ball I held out to him. He poked each piece into the Fun Factory press.  Diligently and silently, he worked at the task. Once the press was full, he pushed down on the lever. He watched the play dough ooze through the three holes moving blue snakes across the table. For the twenty minutes that he worked, I modeled language on his communication device.

Two years ago today we gave Nathaniel an iPad mini with an augmented communication app. He was twenty months old. There was much we did not know at the time. We knew very little about augmented communication or Nathaniel's long term communication needs. We did not know about key guards or child friendly cases or stands or modular tubing to hold the device at an easy access point. In some ways this might have worked in our benefit. In all our not knowing, we did not know how unusual it was to give a twenty-month old a high-tech, voice output device. We wanted to give our son access to words. Lots of words. All the words he would need to be fully twenty months old

I realized something new in our quarterly AAC consultation earlier this month. We were discussing Nathaniel's ownership of his device and the need for him to have it with him at all times. I've been honest with the team and on my blog that I struggle with this idea. He is three, little for his size, and his device is a full size iPad. It is cumbersome even in the lightest case. I know he needs his words available. I dislike putting the responsibility on him to carry them or wear them at all times.

I brought up messy play. "Nathaniel shouldn't have to give up messy play because he is wearing his words..." I said. We use our water table daily three seasons of the year. On warm summer days, it is my son's "afternoon at the pool" experience. His words and device are exchanged for water, sand, shaving cream, cooked and dyed spaghetti noodles, mud, and rocks.

Nathaniel is taking a college class! Well, not really. Nathaniel is a college class. He has been accepted into a preschool level Developmental Language Group (DLG) at a local university. This summer he attends for two hours two mornings a week. The program is offered through a hands-on clinic where students enrolled in a Masters of Science in Speech-Language Pathology program work with patients under the supervision of university faculty members. For the summer session, three clinicians and an instructor are working with six children. Nathaniel is the only AAC user. He is learning to navigate play and preschool programing alongside peers capable of speaking.

POOP
PEE
POTTY
UH OH!
I NEED TO GO POTTY!

We started potty training a few weeks ago. Day one my focus was just on the task. Running to the potty, resetting the timer, running to the potty again fifteen minutes later. I signed TOILET to represent this process and I suspect this will be Nathaniel's first way to communicate the need. But I quickly realized we need potty language on the talker. Speak for Yourself (SFY), the speech generating app that Nathaniel uses, had TOILET pre-programmed. That will be helpful in years to come, so I made the word available. We may use it from time to time in modeling. But TOILET is not age appropriate language for all the stuff little ones learn about through potty training.

At our last augmented communication team session, one of the therapists asked me how Nathaniel does with books. "Oh," I thought to myself, "we're doing great here. They will be so impressed!" Out loud I said, "Really well! We read ten to fifteen books a day. We get books from the library. We have set times through out the day when we read. And we use the talker while reading too!" They asked for further explanation on my last point.

I have read to Nathaniel since his first day home. Shared moments of reading between parent and child is foundational to my understanding of child rearing. My mother read to me. My Aunt Beccy kept stacks of books in her car for her children and other young riders. My mother's cousin was an elementary school teacher and gave me most of her classroom library when she retired. I was nineteen. I had children's books before I had children. Through our years of homeschooling, reading books aloud has been a pivotal aspect of our curriculum and our family's day.

Last May our daughter suggested that I put together an list or index for blog posts about Nathaniel. When she tells people that she has seven brothers, that the youngest is three years old and the oldest is thirty-three years old, she gets a lot of questions. She likes to send the curious to my blog for information about Nathaniel.

"But where should they start to read, Mom? And how do they find specific posts?"

I have been working on this list since that conversation. The process of compiling and specifically having it completed today, the second anniversary of Nathaniel's adoption, has been a special gift to myself.  It was good to reflect on where we have been, what life has been like for Nathaniel and our family,  and how God has been faithful through it all. After spending hours rereading these old posts I must add my AMEN to Jason Johnson's words tucked in a recent blog post, "foster care and adoption are not just the process by which we may change a child’s life but also the means through which God will radically transform ours." 

Three years ago tonight another woman held Nathaniel warm and secure in her body sheltered from the encroaching world. I don't know when her labor pains started or who drove her to the hospital. I don't know how many needle sticks it took to start her IV or what type of pain reliever she had. I do know that three years ago tomorrow morning, the doctors delivered a baby boy from her womb and she heard no cry.