“The Power of the Village”

My two year old son, Logan, was a healthy baby who just loved being happy. From an early age our guy’s personality was one loaded with a charm (and a dimple) that just lit up the room. He was a content and happy guy and we were none the wiser that anything was ever wrong. As I lovingly look back at old “before diagnosis” video clips today, it is glaringly obvious to see that the only thing missing from these precious memories was my Logan’s sweet voice.

At 2.5 years old, we began our journey and learned about the power of “the village”. We exhausted every lead, every outlet, every human in our path who had any knowledge to maybe give us direction as to why our Logan wasn’t talking. Leaving no stone unturned we finally connected with a complete stranger placed in our path who said the word that would change our lives. Apraxia.

I scribbled the misspelled word on a piece of paper and a couple google searches later brought me to the Apraxia Kids website. I recall the distinct feeling of relief because after a year of relentlessly searching and researching, we finally put the pieces of our puzzle together and we had our answer; however, waves of grief followed shortly after realizing what was ahead for our 3.5 year old.

My fun loving guy was about to embark on a perilous journey full of speech therapy and frustration. I am happy to report, though, that after 2 years of unrelenting hard work, my little guy is now 3 weeks in to Kindergarten, AAC programmed iPad in tow, and is successfully integrating with peers his own age, all with that dimpled smile still on his face.

It was a humbling experience to come to terms with the fact that my Logan needed much more than a loving mom and dad in order to get him through his apraxia. Once we realized that Logan’s quality of life actually improved with the more people we included on his journey, the more we saw him grow.

One of the more beautiful parts of this journey for us has been to watch family, friends, teachers and strangers come forward and move mountains for one of the most important people in your life, simply because they want to.

We discovered that once we let people in on the secret that is “childhood apraxia of speech,” people wanted to be involved and they wanted to make life better for Logan. We formed a team for the Walk for Apraxia in Houston because we wanted to let Logan know that while his world may feel small or lonely in his head – he absolutely is not alone. His world is full of love and support and with each person who learns about apraxia, it grows by one more, and that is priceless.

I walk on team Logansaurus Rex for the Houston Walk for Apraxia because I walk the apraxia walk every second of every single day. I walk because some days my Logan will have to dig deep for some courage and he will know he has his family and an army of strength cheering him on. Selfishly, I walk the Houston Walk for Apraxia because my heart needs support on the tough days and this army who unconditionally supports my son is the same army who sees me through it. When we both are wary and tired of the fight (which happens more often than you would think), we turn to Logan’s team and find the strength to keep on keeping on.

Lastly, I walk because somewhere out there is an unknowing mom innocently videoing the moments with her happy dimple cheeked little baby who laughs as his voice escapes him. If apraxia awareness will have touched even one person in that baby’s life then his world has grown by one, and that may end up being the most important person in that baby’s (and mom’s) little life.

 

Logan and his family attended the 2018 Houston Walk for Apraxia, and fundraised over $1,000 to be a member of the Champions Club. Apraxia Kids is grateful to “Logansaurus Rex” for helping to continue our mission of strengthening the support systems in the lives of children with apraxia of speech. Thank you to Logan and his family for sharing their story of hope.

Find a local walk near you and help give a voice to children with apraxia of speech.

My two year old son, Logan, was a healthy baby who just loved being happy. From an early age our guy’s personality was one loaded with a charm (and a dimple) that just lit up the room. He was a content and happy guy and we were none the wiser that anything was ever wrong. As I lovingly look back at old “before diagnosis” video clips today, it is glaringly obvious to see that the only thing missing from these precious memories was my Logan’s sweet voice.

At 2.5 years old, we began our journey and learned about the power of “the village”. We exhausted every lead, every outlet, every human in our path who had any knowledge to maybe give us direction as to why our Logan wasn’t talking. Leaving no stone unturned we finally connected with a complete stranger placed in our path who said the word that would change our lives. Apraxia.

I scribbled the misspelled word on a piece of paper and a couple google searches later brought me to the Apraxia Kids website. I recall the distinct feeling of relief because after a year of relentlessly searching and researching, we finally put the pieces of our puzzle together and we had our answer; however, waves of grief followed shortly after realizing what was ahead for our 3.5 year old.

My fun loving guy was about to embark on a perilous journey full of speech therapy and frustration. I am happy to report, though, that after 2 years of unrelenting hard work, my little guy is now 3 weeks in to Kindergarten, AAC programmed iPad in tow, and is successfully integrating with peers his own age, all with that dimpled smile still on his face.

It was a humbling experience to come to terms with the fact that my Logan needed much more than a loving mom and dad in order to get him through his apraxia. Once we realized that Logan’s quality of life actually improved with the more people we included on his journey, the more we saw him grow.

One of the more beautiful parts of this journey for us has been to watch family, friends, teachers and strangers come forward and move mountains for one of the most important people in your life, simply because they want to.

We discovered that once we let people in on the secret that is “childhood apraxia of speech,” people wanted to be involved and they wanted to make life better for Logan. We formed a team for the Walk for Apraxia in Houston because we wanted to let Logan know that while his world may feel small or lonely in his head – he absolutely is not alone. His world is full of love and support and with each person who learns about apraxia, it grows by one more, and that is priceless.

I walk on team Logansaurus Rex for the Houston Walk for Apraxia because I walk the apraxia walk every second of every single day. I walk because some days my Logan will have to dig deep for some courage and he will know he has his family and an army of strength cheering him on. Selfishly, I walk the Houston Walk for Apraxia because my heart needs support on the tough days and this army who unconditionally supports my son is the same army who sees me through it. When we both are wary and tired of the fight (which happens more often than you would think), we turn to Logan’s team and find the strength to keep on keeping on.

Lastly, I walk because somewhere out there is an unknowing mom innocently videoing the moments with her happy dimple cheeked little baby who laughs as his voice escapes him. If apraxia awareness will have touched even one person in that baby’s life then his world has grown by one, and that may end up being the most important person in that baby’s (and mom’s) little life.

 

Logan and his family attended the 2018 Houston Walk for Apraxia, and fundraised over $1,000 to be a member of the Champions Club. Apraxia Kids is grateful to “Logansaurus Rex” for helping to continue our mission of strengthening the support systems in the lives of children with apraxia of speech. Thank you to Logan and his family for sharing their story of hope.

Find a local walk near you and help give a voice to children with apraxia of speech.



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