Mother's First Words

Original Print Date: May 10, 1992

"Mommy loves you."

Those are Tammy Willett's first words. Tapped in Morse code, the words travel through new computer software to a voice box that unlocks a mother's silent world.

"Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you." The words are programmed into the computer so that by pressing six times — dot-dot-dot-dot-dot-dot — on a switch attached to her right wheelchair arm, Tammy "says" the words over and over again in a soft, female voice.

Rebeka smiles, tentatively, at the sound of the first words, a gift that came a few weeks early for her second birthday but just in time for Mother's Day.

"Mommy loves you."

Tammy, 31, has cerebral palsy, a disorder of the central nervous system caused by brain damage. She has been unable to walk or talk, dress or feed herself ever since she was a 10-year-old with a flu bug that developed into encephalitis — inflammation of the brain.

Before today, she communicated through a rudimentary kind of sign language that only a few people could understand.

While Tammy has above-average intelligence, her husband, Clarence Willett, is developmentally disabled. Growing up, he took special education classes and graduated from high school.

They met in a class at the United Cerebral Palsy Association and got married in June of 1989.

Less than a year later, they had Rebeka.

Doctors give the baby a clean bill of health. A team of social workers and educational specialists says she is normal, physically AND mentally.

They also say Rebeka is getting the stimulation she needs.

Leanne Rhodes, a developmental / educational consultant, is contracted by Valley Mountain Regional Center to monitor Rebeka's progress twice a month. She works with the family, then leaves behind lists of activities. Read books. Play blocks. Color pictures.

"Rebeka's developmental skills are age-appropriate," Rhodes says. "She has a wide vocabulary of single words. She readily names objects and pictures and combines words into simple sentences."

She credits Clarence and Tammy for their teamwork.

"They offer a good example to anyone who wants to have children, in terms of their ability to successfully, lovingly parent."

Their caseworker with the regional center also says their efforts complement each other.

"If you see Clarence and Tammy from a distance, you might think, oh my God, how can they manage with a child?" says Shelli Margarite-Martinez. "But you're not getting the whole picture. The relationship is orchestrated through Tammy's cognitive abilities and Clarence's physical abilities. They are really on top of everything."

On the day the computer installers arrive, Tammy signs to Clarence: DRAW. He writes down each letter on a piece of paper and pauses a moment before he recognizes the word.

Draw. She wants him to give Rebeka some drawing paper and pens. He sets her up at the coffee table, then he helps the installers at the kitchen table.

Rebeka scribbles away happily, entertaining herself for an hour. Then Clarence takes her to her bedroom for naptime.

Chubby in her size 4T dresses, Rebeka has brilliant-brown eyes, strawberry hair and a wide, toothy grin.

She walks, she climbs, she turns on the VCR and puts her fingerprints all over the TV screen.

She feeds herself spaghetti — and covers everything within a 3-foot diameter with a coat of tomato sauce.

She disappears from the living room and emerges minutes later from the kitchen with a bottle of generic window cleaner. (She's outmaneuvered the child-proof lock under the sink.)