Remembering

Olivia used to say her alphabet backwards.  She used to sign "more" and she used to know the hand motions for itsy, bitsy spider. 

Now she tries to put her fingertips together to sign "more", but she does it in such a way that she seems to recognize she doesn't quite have it right.  It's as if she has lost her memory, and I'm trying to help her fill in the gaps.  Like this, baby girl.  You used to do it like this.  Remember?

We've tried to sing itsy, bitsy spider again.  She used to hold one hand still while twisting the other, making the spider climb the water spout.  Now, she clasps her hands for moment, then releases them, shakes them a little, then moves on to "down came the rain".  I literally feel the thoughts she's having.  Is this it?  No, that's not right.  Maybe this?  It seems like I should know this.  I feel like her brain is cheating her, stealing away what she has already worked hard to accomplish, making her trade in the old for the new.  Hold your hands this way, sweet girl.  Twist one into the other.  Remember?

She has a pattern of sounds she likes to say, and she often waits for you to repeat each one before moving on.  It's our conversation, and I crave the times when she wants to talk.  She pulls on my chin, asking me to speak.  Her old pattern was:  "Ma-MA, Ma-MA.  Pa.  Yiiiie- toe.  (some other sound I could never get right.)  Da-da."

Her new pattern is: "La. Dane-dane. Ah-too."  For a while, we couldn't get her to repeat her old pattern.  It was as if her mind had erased it, moving on to something else.  But then, suddenly, she brought the old sounds back.  Who knows how long they might stay.

She said her alphabet backwards for a couple of months when she was three.  Then it disappeared.  I heard her a few months ago say a small string of letters backwards, but that's all we've heard of that amazing skill in the last two years.  Is it still hiding in her mind, filed away for safe keeping?  Or is it like an Alzheimer's patient, the memories mysteriously disappearing forever?  There seem to be so many things she used to do, used to say.  Sometimes we are able to coax an old memory back to the surface, but it doesn't happen as often as I wish.

Recently, Olivia saw a picture of us from the Autism Speaks walk on my computer desktop.  She said, "Mama, dada" and some sound that was obviously her attempt at Jacob ("day", maybe?).  Brian and I both heard it and we were over the moon excited about it.  Of course, getting  her to say it again has proved to be a tough task.

We hold our breath and anxiously wait for her to sing, to say a word, to name us.  To communicate.  To allow us in.  To share herself with us.  When she does, we drink it in, we savor the moment, never knowing how truly fleeting it may be.

And just like her, we try so hard to remember.