PrAACtical AAC, a popular blog for speech therapists working in augmented communication, shared a post this morning that hit me hard. "No matter what the age or type of disability," it said, "almost all AAC learners face the challenge of communicating effectively during encounters with healthcare professionals. People with AAC needs are among those who are considered to be communication vulnerable and do best when there are planned supports in place."

Communication vulnerable.

Augmented communication is hard. Nothing about it is easy or normal. 

Take last Saturday morning.

Rich, Joe and Nathaniel were outside working on Josiah's bike. When I walked into the situation, Nathaniel was upset and on the verge of a big melt down tantrum. Rich filled me in that it was regarding a tool that Nathaniel had confiscated as his own, but Josiah needed periodically. I asked where the talker was, hoping to offer everyone another tool to work through the situation. The talker was not outside.

Ben, Nathaniel and I went to Lowe's this week. Nathaniel had his talker in the cart and when the cashier started talking to him, I reached over and used the talker to say HI on his behalf. It is the easiest way to let someone know he is not going to respond verbally. Most often, hearing the talker catches people off guard and I can quickly sense the individual's familiarity and comfort with special needs children. The cashier came alive when she heard the device. She had questions. By the end of our transaction, she had shared that her own son has Down's Syndrome and was given a Speech Generating Device (SGD). He does not use it because he was teased and told it was for babies. She wanted more information. We wrote down the name of the app, name of my website, and the name of Nathaniel's new Facebook page.

Two years ago this morning we met Nathaniel.

When these days come up, I realize how new I still am to adoption. Which day is suppose to be the most significant? The day we learned he was our son? The day we met him? The day he came home? The day his adoption was finalized? This one, the first time we met and held him, feels so important.

I am amazed how many people follow Nathaniel's and our family's story. Almost weekly at church someone we don't know will approach and want an update. Last night I realized I have this "other" category for Facebook messages. I am not sure why some messages go to my inbox and some to other. (If you know why, please tell me in the comment section below!) There were over twenty messages waiting in that other folder, some dated back to April in Nathaniel had hand surgery; all of them notes of encouragement, prayer, and kind words about sharing Nathaniel's story through this blog. They made me cry. You are all so genuine and so faithful to show support. Thank you for reading. Thank you for liking Facebook posts. For letting us know you are praying. It makes a difference.

I have enjoyed watching Nathaniel adapt to having his right hand in a cast. He is very creative. Like in the way he decided to look at a book today. He carried his Daniel Tiger book around all day and refused to go outside unless I let him take it along. I am not sure about that cast pillow, but he seemed comfortable and happy in moment. Pretty happy playing with big brother in "bean dirt" earlier this week too.

There were three places I wanted to be on Saturday night: my sister-in-law's surprise fortieth birthday party in Wisconsin, our church's annual fundraiser to support outreach to the marginalized in St. Louis City, and an Eagle Scout ceremony for a young man Rich has encouraged for years.

Instead I spent Saturday evening standing outside a chicken coop with Nathaniel.

It has been awhile since I have compiled thoughts on Nathaniel's communication skills and use of augmented communication. We are headed to St. Louis Children's Hospital today to check in with the Aug-Comm team; I am excited to share Nathaniel's progress with them and thought I would use my preparation for the meeting to pull together a blog post on communication.