different, not less

Last night Blake and I watched Temple Grandin, an HBO film about the life of an autistic woman who lived at a time when autism was not well understood and who used her disability to her advantage to not only advocate the disorder but also to ultimately become an expert in the field of animal husbandry. It was a very well-done movie, and I highly recommend it.

One of the overriding messages of the film was that even though a person might be different, it doesn't make them a lesser individual. "Different, not less," Temple's mother, a devoted and incredibly patient woman, would remind those who taught and worked with her daughter during her formative years. That idea really hit me: different, not less.

Throughout the movie I found myself frequently empathizing with the challenges Mrs. Grandin faced while raising her special needs daughter and sympathizing with the frustration Temple dealt with when people didn't understand her.

And I thought of Garrett, who, while he isn't autistic, does have special needs of his own in the form of the language delay we're currently trying to correct. Speech therapy, of course, is helping him learn to be able to express himself, and he is making unbelievable strides of progress in this area. As he does so I'm realizing more and more just how far below the norm his receptive language has been, and, in some cases, still is. I watch Caleb, whose language skills, both receptive and expressive, are starting to manifest themselves in a variety of ways, and it stings a little to realize just how far behind Garrett is when compared to his peers. It's like I told my mom on the phone the other day as I described Caleb's budding ability to talk: "I know he's developing normally, but when I compare him to Garrett he almost seems gifted!"

I know it's generally not a good idea to compare the abilities of siblings, but sometimes it's hard to help. And like I said, Garrett is making tremendous progress, both expressively and receptively, and I have no doubt that he will eventually catch up to where he should be. But it isn't a quick fix. While I don't know how long he will remain in speech therapy, I do have a haunting suspicion that he will be dealing with the repercussions of the delay well into his school years.

I can't really explain it, because even I can't quite put my finger on it, but sometimes it seems as if language isn't the only developmental area Garrett is experiencing delays in. He reached most milestones at a much slower pace than the charts tell me is normal, and while I know that every child develops at a different rate, something just seems a little too slow overall for him and not quite right. There is also the sensory issue that is still being looked into. Whether or not the language problems are a cause of some other, perhaps larger, problem or the result of it, I don't know. And of course, there is the fact that because he's my first child -- my guinea pig in the world of parenting -- I could just be a little clueless as far as what's normal is concerned. But there is still that something in my gut that hints at the idea that Garrett's time in speech therapy won't solve all of the problems he may eventually face.

And this isn't to say that Garrett is completely off-kilter because he isn't. He is creative and imaginative and kind. He connects the dots in the world around him and surprises me sometimes with how quickly he can get things right. He's growing more and more independent and he's generally an incredibly happy child. Oh, and, of course, he is completely adorable. Just because some things don't seem to be quite right with him, it doesn't mean that things are all wrong.

At any rate, this is just something I occasionally wonder and think about as I watch my son grow and play and interact with others, and we'll see eventually how things turn out. But one thing is absolutely certain: Garrett might be a little different, but he is certainly not any less.