I Hope You Dance

Almost 10 years ago when I was pregnant with my twin boys, the song “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womack was popular. I used to listen to it and it entered into my consciousness when I was trying to envision what these children may become. I could not envision, at that time, that one son would have cerebral palsy.

Andreas is what I now call alter-verbal since the term nonverbal does not seem to apply. He does communicate nonverbally better than most but he also makes sounds that are clearly verbalizations. He also can take steps with assistance so I cannot call him non-ambulatory.

I teach undergraduate communication courses and I frequently stress that what we all most seek is someone who “gets us”. Once someone gets us, we can relax and feel less alone in the world. In raising Andreas, we have tried to bring him to those who can speak his language. The longer I parent Andreas, the more empathy I feel for people with disabilities. I witness so often that people with disabilities are rarely “gotten”. They, to my astonishment, do not seem to lose their good humor and patience with us. I see this in Andreas everyday.

The search for those who speak Andreas’s language, has taken us to music therapy, equine therapy, and swimming with dolphins. In each case, there is a communication that takes place between Andreas and the therapist or Andreas and the animal. In some cases, such as music, it may be communication using a language that his mother does not know.

Our search recently took us to a dance therapist named Suzi Tortora who has developed a technique called Dancing Dialogue. I took Andreas to the first meeting and with little conversation between us I put Andreas down on the floor of her studio. Suzie asked me what kind of music Andreas likes. I answered that Andreas likes early rock and roll. He has shown an interest in Elvis Presley. Suzi put on some Elvis and for the next hour, I watched Suzi and Andreas dance. Suzi let Andreas take the lead and she mimicked his movement. As I watched, I was taken by both of them. On Andreas’ part, he seemed to accept and trust Suzi immediately. I know that this is partly Andreas but I think also that he was picking up “something” from Suzi. He knew that she got him and he knew that he could trust her. Her one comment was: “There is some spirit in there.” There was an immediate intimacy present that most people would be fearful of during a first meeting. The encounter was stripped down to essential elements and my husband and I had the privilege of witnessing it.

After the dance, Andreas seemed tired and content. I hope that he had the experience that he was seen, rather than looked down upon, as is so often done with people with disabilities. Suzi engaged with him as a complete, perfect being. It must feel good to receive this message when so many others try to fix him. I think that we all need messages that tell us that we are perfect just the way we are. As Andreas’ music therapist, Billy Ayres, says, “it is only when we are fed those messages that we can change”. Therapies, then, such as this one, when looked at through this lens become essential rather than something seen more as a pastime.

There are those who say that I drag Andreas around to different therapies in the hope that someone will offer a magic bullet. I don’t think that I am looking for magic.. but, in a way, maybe I am. I do think that when others get us, it is always magical and rare. I also think that others would never say that comment about typical children. We would not say that typically developing children are being dragged around to music, art, sports, etc.. Parents bring children to different activities when they are small because we never know what their potential is. Why are children with disabilities any different? As parents, more than anything, we want our children to meet those with whom they can dance.