Archive for July, 2011

Baby Fever. Or not.

Something that’s new for me over the past year is that unmistakeable longing for another child. It’s weird. Don’t get me wrong, having babies is great, but my first child was only five months old when my husband and I found that we were pregnant with my daughter.

Not exactly planned.

I love my little girl, and I can’t imagine our world without her, but because she came so soon after my son, I never got to that point where I thought I really want another child now.

On top of that, after my daughter was born, I knew without doubt that I’d never have another baby because I was deaf. It was an emotional thing as a mother, feeling that I put her in danger every time I couldn’t hear her cry. I didn’t want to put another child through that. Even more, I didn’t know if I could emotionally stumble through the baby and toddler phase.

But now?


I was browsing through some old pictures and found this photo of her. Cuteness!

Over the past few months I’ve known friends who have had babies, family members who have become pregnant, and I kept thinking it’s all just a phase for me, to want another one. Babies are cute and cuddly, sure, but raise your hand if you know how much work is involved?!

The other day I held a friend’s baby for a long time while the baby slept, and I just kept thinking how much I wished I could go through this again.  What must it be like to hear a baby? Not just any baby, but my own baby…

And last night, laying in bed, talking about it with my husband, it kinda smacked me in the head. My own longing for a child isn’t really what I thought it was. It’s not that I feel like our life is incomplete without another child. It isn’t that at all. It’s that I’d love to experience what I never got with my first two kids.

I remember hearing my son laugh loudly the first few times. I remember hearing him cry through a monitor from another room, only if the monitor was at full blast.

But beyond that?

What must it be like for a mother to hear her infant cry from another room and know you can reach him safely? To hear the gentle sound of cooing, or the soft whispers of slumber? I can’t imagine. I really can’t.

Is that a reason to have another baby? No. Not for me it isn’t.

It was nice to see the situation for what it is though. It was refreshing to be honest with myself, smack myself out of the pity party, and continue forward. These things happen in life. We miss out on something that’s so dear to us, want to turn back the clock, but it’s so important that we focus on the good things ahead of us. I could easily mourn what I feel is lost.

Or I could celebrate what’s ahead of me.

Have I said how much I love hearing my kids now? My 3yr old girl was pretending to talk on her toy phone earlier and in a much-too-teenage voice said, “Oh, no way!”

While my son doesn’t always say the silly things anymore (he’s much too cool for that), we have very lengthy conversations about why I think it would be a bad thing for fighter jets to “pow” each other while flying over our house, or what exactly a branch of the military is and how each one is different. And what they do. In detail.

I just love hearing my children each and every day. Even being the 3yr and 5yr olds that they are now. And I’m reminded of a quote Winston Churchill wrote.

“If we open a quarrel between past and present, we shall find we have lost the future.”

I’m inspired by that. And I know that while I will always remember where I came from, I will choose every day not to lose the beautiful future I have before me. Will you?

The Big Decision Part 4

Hearing aids did change my life. For the first month I had them I was blown away at how many little sounds I heard that I didn’t realize I wasn’t hearing anymore. After that stark realization for me, just one year later I realized I stopped hearing those same sounds.

More than anything else, I think that hearing aids prepared me mentally to taking a bigger step. I had finally understood the fact that I needed to do everything in within my own power to get as much hearing back as I could so that I could find a happier balance for my life. So after a lot of thought, I came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t hurt anything to just look into CI. Because, really, should I be writing the whole thing off if I didn’t know all there was to know about it?

My first step was to see a counselor. I met with a lady, named Karen, and she knew about all there is to know about technology devices available to assist a deaf or hard of hearing person.

And guess what?

She is a CI recipient too.

When I met with her, we talked a lot about the CI process. She told me her story, and although it was so much different than my own, I absorbed every word, especially how much CI had changes her life.

She challenged me with this:
If you have already lost all your hearing, what is there to lose by choosing to receive a cochlear implant?


What can you gain?

And I knew. Whether she knows it or not, that question, that day, was what challenged me to really research CI and make my final decision. It was true. I had nothing left to lose. I had lost it all once, regained some with a hearing aid, only to lose it all over again. There were no other options available. If I chose to not have CI, I’d live the rest of my life as I was. If I chose CI, it might not work, but if it did, and if it helped at all, it would be more than I had at that moment.

As I sit here today, I’m in a McDonald’s play area. There is so much noise around me, kids screaming and laughing, banging against plastic and munching on food. If I listen closely, pay attention to the noise, I can distinguish my little girl’s too loud voice and undeniably adorable laughter.

And I know I made a good choice.