A doctor's visit, a meeting with an educator, a chat with the neighbors... parents find countless occasions to talk with others about their child: "Eight days after he was born, the doctor told us there was nothing to be done."
"How much worry he's caused us! Sleepless nights... Meals during which I thought I was losing my mind..."
"Look at him: he doesn't react, he doesn't speak. And yet you think he might be intelligent. There seems to have been some kind of setback when he was two years old, the day when..."
The child is present. We tell ourselves: "it doesn't matter, he doesn't understand," or if he might grasp what we're saying, we can always use some words a bit more complicated and learned. It's true that the exact meaning of the words escapes him, but many things he does understand.
First of all, he knows we're talking about him. Without meaning to, we've looked at him. Our voice has changed tone, and he senses a tenderness that wraps around him. In short... he knows.
And he understands, too, that we are sad because of him. His intelligence may be limited, but his heart grasps more than others ever could. He doesn't know our reasoning or our plans, but he feels our joy and our sorrow, our hope and our bitterness. In this, he never goes wrong.
That's all of it, but it's devastating!
What, then, are we to do?
First, avoid as much as possible situations where you're tempted to talk about him while he's present.
If you need to recount Maria's history, for instance, or tell the doctor, psychologist, or educator about her difficulties, arrange for her to be somewhere else. Ask that she stay in the next room, coloring with markers you've brought along, or tearing up old newspapers.
If Maria won't stay alone, without someone familiar, have your mother or a friend accompany her and sit with her while you speak with the doctor or others.
When neighbors or relatives ask for news or want to know the origin of his illness, don't talk in front of the child—neither about the negative aspects nor the painful ones that would only trap him deeper in his disability. Perhaps you could do what Paolo's mother does. In such moments, she always takes her precautions. She speaks on behalf of her son, to be sure she finds the right words and the right tone.
"Paolo would tell you that he was sick when he was little and that he struggled a lot to learn to walk, but now he can move around if someone holds his hand and he can do so many things on his own; hold a spoon, wash his hands, climb the front steps on all fours..."
The mouth speaks what is in the heart. If we work to cultivate love and respect for these children entrusted to us, if we nurture the desire to see them grow, and trust in what they can become, the words we speak will reflect that. They will be words that create.
Every day we bring our children into the world with what we say about them.
M. H. M - 1975