My husband John and I had no clue our son had any sort of developmental problems until he began a part-time Mother's Day Out program. Walton attended the program only twice before I began getting calls from the staff regarding his major temper tantrums. Over the course of his three-week stint there, the calls to pick him up gradually went from 1 p.m., to noon, to 11 a.m.

"Something's wrong with him, and we don't know how to make it better," they said. At that point, I was scared to death.

Around the same time, when Walton was 15 to 18 months old, I reviewed an online autism warning signs checklist to see whether he might be displaying early symptoms, but his only sign was a complete lack of words. I then visited with his pediatrician, because I was concerned that he was 2 years old and did not say one single word.

The doctor (who I trust and love) thought everything was fine. He reminded me that Walton had pressure equalization tubes (ear tubes) inserted a few months prior, and we just needed to be patient.

One night when Walton was having a temper tantrum at home, I called my neighbor, a dear friend with connections to ACCESS Schools, and asked her to come observe him. She was there for 20 minutes, made some calls and put the ACCESS contact information in my hand.

Steps Toward A Solution

The next day, I scheduled an evaluation with Cheri Stevenson, M.S., CCC-SLP, the ACCESS director of therapy. Cheri is a licensed speech-language pathologist and specializes in diagnostics, and for every question she asked us during the process, she seemed to already know what our answer would be.

She diagnosed Walton with childhood apraxia of speech (CAS), a neurological speech disorder characterized by the incapacity to program the positioning of speech muscles for making sounds and speaking. We had no idea what it was. We were advised to start Walton in speech-language therapy and also had his hearing and sight tested to rule out other possible problems.

Then I began doing Internet research. I was even more overwhelmed when I read about the cognitive delays associated with apraxia and its spectrum of severity. I spent countless hours pouring through research, articles and stories about apraxia before, ultimately, just closing it down and putting my faith in the therapy.

Walton started outpatient therapy three times a week in late 2007. He went from saying nothing to saying something. He went from being frustrated and irritable and not-so-fun to a laughing, talking, cooperative communicator, even using a bit of sign language while he worked on his speech skills. It was an unbelievable change.

He also was assessed and treated for feeding issues and a sensory integration disorder. I was not aware that children with oral motor processing delays typically have associated feeding and sensory problems.

When he started therapy, Walton would only eat crunchy foods like Cheerios and Oreos, as well as chicken nuggets and tater tots (but only nuggets that were cut into small pieces and were placed in his mouth. He would eat the tater tots whole to avoid the feeling of them breaking apart in his mouth). There is no question that he established a large portion of his poor eating habits from me, because I gave him what he wanted to eat, which was easier than fighting him. I just thought he was a picky eater; I didn't know his eating habits were directly related to his disability. Through intensive feeding and sensory integration therapy, he has learned to eat a balanced meal, although we often still struggle with eating habits at home.

Walton started full-time education at ACCESS the next summer. It was a scary thing for us. He was 2, and he had never been in any kind of formal program for more than three weeks. But he never once cried about going to school. I think he knew it was where he was supposed to be and felt successful.

Taking a Team Approach

Walton is now almost 5, and his treatments have literally changed his life and ours. John and I still get emotional about the drastic change in Walton. What a miracle!

We are not without challenges, though. Walton's early speech problems have evolved into behavior issues. He has boundless energy and doesn't seem to know what to do with it. Speech is no longer a problem; now it's his strong-willed behavior. I sometimes wonder if it's the result of handling him with kid gloves when he was younger and his disability seemed more severe. It was often easier to give in to him than battle it out.

His teachers and therapists have been using behavior modification techniques with him during class and therapy sessions. He seeks attention and needs to learn appropriate ways to behave, so they use positive behavior reinforcement, modeling and coping mechanisms to help him learn. They also teach John and me by giving us precise behavior plans, and when we follow them, they work.

I don't think people understand when I try to explain it: we have a team at ACCESS. We literally had a meeting once where we sat with four or five other professionals who work with Walton throughout the day on to determine how we were going to get him to eat meatballs. How could he not succeed with that kind of help? By the way, meatballs are now one of his favorite foods!

My hope is that we can mainstream Walton in the near future. Until that day, John and I are so pleased with the level of academic work he's doing at ACCESS. His environment is truly customized to meet his needs. I think that's why it's worked so well for him. He brought home a traced version of "triceratops" as an art project the other day. I have a typically developing daughter who could barely write her name at this age, let alone trace large words with skill!

We also treasure the fact that Walton doesn't see disabilities. He doesn't know his school friends have special needs. This also rubs off on his older sister. A kid is a kid to him, no matter what their challenges are. He is truly where he belongs.

My philosophy is: there's not a child out there that doesn't have some type of issue that needs attention. Some kids struggle with math. Maybe others struggle with learning language or reading. Figuring out what it is and getting him or her help is what matters. As parents, that's what we're here for: to help our kids reach their maximum potential. It's not something we can do by ourselves.

Someone told me that children will meet whatever expectations are set for them. It's how high (or low) you set the bar that counts. I believe children who have disabilities or delays, no matter how severe or mild, need to be pushed and challenged just like other children.

All parents want the best for their children, and many times that means putting your personal fears or plans aside. The odds that everything is going to go as you planned are not good, are they? So, as a parent, you set the bar high, work hard and pray for the best.

Click here for Vicky's advice to parents who suspect their child may have a speech disorder.