Why I Wrote This Booklet
In February of 1914, my great grandmother, six months pregnant with twins, was hosting a wake in her living room. Her beloved son, Sammy, had tragically died at the tender age of two. The shock, grief and stress she was feeling caused her to go into premature labor. She gave birth to my maternal grandmother Alice, who weighed in at a scrawny 15 ounces, and my great aunt Katherine, who weighed just over a pound.
The doctor attending the home birth informed my Nana that her daughters were born with no sucking reflex, and were too weak to survive. Medical science hadn't yet invented the incubator. The prognosis of her tiny daughters was indeed grim. Not willing to bury two more children along with Sammy, my determined great grandmother wrapped her babies in cotton, and put them in a bread box near the wood burning stove to keep warm. Patiently, she fed her struggling daughters her breast milk, using a tiny eye dropper.
Alice and Kitty survived, but they were afflicted with epilepsy, and they stuttered horribly. In school they were teased mercilessly and ostracized, because no one understood their physical struggles or cared to show them any compassion. Finally, at age 14, they dropped out of school and went to work full time. Eventually those plucky girls grew into savvy, successful businesswomen and self-made millionaires. But my grandmother was married three times, and my great aunt stayed in a life-long relationship that was horribly abusive. I firmly believe that the emotional turmoil of their adult lives was a direct result of their painful and traumatic childhoods. Their battered self-esteem as stuttering epileptics caused them to be battered women as adults.
In high school, I had two male friends that stuttered. Recently I had the opportunity to become reacquainted with one of them, after not seeing or hearing from him in 27 years. My friend never married, but like my great aunt and grandmother, he did grow into a super-achiever and a very successful adult. And like my kin, he too had a life experience of emotional pain and ostracism from people who didn't understand his stuttering.
In the 89 years since my grandmother was born and sturggled to survive, mankind has walked on the moon, mapped the human genome, and has made huge strides in understanding and curing a variety of diseases. But not much progress has been made in understanding stuttering, and curing the pain, isolation, and frustration it causes those who live with it.
In my profound sadness, I determined to do my part in raising public awareness about this affliction, and how it profoundly affects those who struggle with it.
It is my deepest wish that your compassion increases along with your knowledge.
To people that stutter, and to those of you that love them, I dedicate this little booklet, with my undying respect and affection.
Irene Helen Zundel
December 2003
