About the Author: Stacey MacDonald was born and raised in Seattle, Washington. She enjoys all things that the Pacific Northwest has to offer.  She lives with her daughter, who is starting college this year.  They have a cat, who likes to look out the living room window and chirp at the birds. They see Stacey’s mom almost daily.

My daughter had a piano recital at noon that day. 

An 8:30 a.m. voice mail from my mom: “Got up early.  The handyman will be here soon to fix my awnings.  He should be done by the time you pick me up for the recital.”   

The phone rang at approx. 9:03 a.m.  No message.  Then again.  Must be important if they are calling back.  “Hello?”  A man mumbled something.  Connection lost. Then my cell phone rings.  Message: “Hi, I’m calling for Stacey.  There is something wrong with your mom.”  The handyman had found my number on her refrigerator.  

I knew in my heart my mom had had a stroke.  It was a fear of hers, since her own father passed away at the age of 50.  Beating the fire truck to my mom’s, my daughter and I walk in to find my mom in her favorite chair.  She was speaking, but it was incoherent to anyone, except for me. She was trying to “pay” the handyman.  I reassured her I would take care of it, as the medics worked their magic to stabilize her.  Diagnosis:  STROKE.

After a few days, speech, physical, and occupational therapies began.  My mom made great strides in her recovery. But aphasia was prevalent, making her speech choppy and hard to understand for most.  But I knew what my mom was trying to say.

How could I possibly know what she was saying?

 I stutter.  

It has made me a great listener and very in tune to people’s speech patterns.  Stuttering since the age of 3, I’ve been in countless speech therapies, around people who stutter and who have other speaking difficulties.  I didn’t need a master’s degree to help my mom.  My life experiences were my education.  Things that weren’t found in a textbook were key to my mom’s recovery.  In my ongoing quest for managed speech, I was able to help my mom find her own voice again.

I modeled speech techniques and went to appointments with my mom.   She has said the most useful modeling has been when I’m in a full-on stuttering block.  Frozen for mere seconds, it provided a clear picture on forming a word.

 I have shared the importance of “advertising”. It is important for both of us to be upfront that our speech is not what people expect.  Being transparent helps avoid a lot of hassle and confusion!  

Fast forward:

It has been over 7 years since that day.  

Looking back at my mom’s own recovery, I saw so many parallels to my own stuttering.  One glaring reality is there is no cookie cutter way to speech therapy.  The ways to help my mom had to be tailored to her, just as speech/stuttering therapy cannot be streamlined.  No two people stutter the exact same way. As we visited the rehabilitation floor, the varying degrees of stroke aftermath was wide.  There were no “cookie cutter” answers there, either. 

I have witnessed my mom’s desire to be seen. To be heard.  To be included.  I have had to advocate more than once when people are cruel, impatient, or just unkind.  Just as with my own stuttering, we have no choice but to be open and hope for understanding.  We cannot control how people react, but we can give them opportunities to be patient and better listeners. I would like to think my mom and I have provided countless teachable moments!

Today, my mom is at about 95% in her mobility and her speech.  She knows what she wants to say, but sometimes the words just don’t come out.  Out of this entire ordeal, my relationship with my mom has grown stronger.  She now truly “gets” what I’ve dealt with since I was three.  We share stories of trying to order at a restaurant or make a phone call.  We help each other.  We support each other.  We laugh about our struggles. Sometimes we cry.  But we keep going. With hard work, a little luck and the unwavering love of a daughter and granddaughter, my mom is doing better than we could have ever hoped.  Just as my mom had helped me find my own voice, it has been an honor to help her find her way back to hers. 

Author and professor Brene’ Brown says: “To see and be seen.  That is the truest nature of love.”

May all of us who have no choice but to be vulnerable, continue to be brave enough to be seen, make noise and keep talking.  May they see and hear us as we are.  May we all experience the truest nature of love.