I Kept Talking to My Nonverbal Son Even When I Didn’t Know It Mattered

When Lucas was small, I didn’t think he understood anything I said. The signs that he was tuned out were all around me.

Telling my son something not only brought no response but it often brought no glance in my direction. He was in his own world most of the time, and dragging him away from a stimming activity was nearly impossible.

It was a painful reality that I struggled to deal with.

And, in many ways, I’m grateful for that struggle.

If I had accepted it right away, I might never have kept doing what I still do today. I talk to him. Always.

Lucas is my sounding board. I talk to him about everything from our time frame to get ready for school to the people who annoyed me yesterday. I tell him stories of my youth on long car rides and ask his opinion on world events. It’s just what we do. It’s what we’ve always done.

Today, he gives me those glances. He’s not as closed off as he was when he was a toddler, and I credit this constant stream of words on my part for some of that change. He sees me as his father, but also as his friend. I love nothing more than to feel a tap on my arm and look up to see him smiling at me, usually for no reason other than wanting to connect.

So does he offer his take on the geopolitical landscape when asked? Does he talk about WrestleMania, literature, or the price of salmon? No. Those conversations are mostly just for me.

He does, however, understand things that I never dreamed he would.

That’s because, mixed in with my verbal stream of nonsense, are real things he needs for life. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he pieces some of them together. We find understanding not through pressure, repetition, or rewards, but simply by being together and talking, day after day, in our own way.

When did Lucas first learn what “wash your hands” means? I have no idea. There was no test or moment of verification. One early morning, I simply mumbled, “We need to wash your hands before we go downstairs to eat.”

As he darted from the room, I assumed he was off to find food. I rolled my eyes, gathered his shoes, and went to look for him.

There he was, standing at the bathroom sink, glancing over his shoulder with an expression that said, “Okay… are we doing this?”

My son doesn’t understand every word that comes out of my mouth. Hell, I don’t understand every word that comes out of my mouth. It’s not about understanding every word.

It’s about creating an environment where he feels safe and seen. He knows that when his dad talks, it’s for him. He listens for what he can understand and holds onto the things that matter.

In many ways, Lucas’s way of seeing the world remains a mystery. I love that about him, and I find him to be the most fascinating person I have ever known. Seeing sparks of comprehension in moments when I think he’s not even paying attention is one of the most amazing things you can imagine. No one surprises me, for better or worse, like he does.

That surprise cuts both ways. There are days when I am positive he knows what to do, only to find that he doesn’t. It can be jarring, at times.

The silver lining? It pales in comparison to the feeling I feel when I know that he has “gotten it” about something else. Telling him to “go find me your cup” and having him return from the den holding it gives me a sense of pride comparable to a sports-obsessed Little League dad. That cup is our trophy.

I say that I read to him when I thought he didn’t care. I talked to him when I didn’t think he was listening. I showed him love when I didn’t think he noticed.

Spoiler alert: He did. He was. He knows he’s loved.

This isn’t always an easy approach to take. Raising a boy like mine often felt thankless. I’d pour my heart and soul into a situation that I would question, at times. I’d look at the little boy, barely raising his head to make eye contact, and wonder if I was wasting my time.

I wasn’t. The relationship we have today is a testament to that.

I keep talking, I keep showing up, and I keep loving. I didn’t do it because I know what he understands, but because I trust who he is.

And in that trust, I’ve found him, and myself, again and again.

If this story resonated with you, I talk more about what changed after my son realized I was really listening on this week’s episode of
Hi Pod! I’m Dad.