Sometimes, life throws a curveball...

"I'm really not getting much response, which would indicate a profound hearing loss in that left ear, and it may be permanent." As I sat in the Pediatric Audiologist's office, hearing her speak these words with so much caring and gentleness in her voice, my heart sank. My first thought was, "No, this is just the first test, there has to be something that can be done." Then, my mind immediately raced to the what-ifs: What if this is somehow my fault? What if it IS permanent? What if it gets worse and then he can't hear out of the other ear, either? Will he still be able to carry a tune or play an instrument? What if it's hard for him to use a telephone, and so when he grows up and moves out he never calls home to talk to me anymore? Whoa. Suddenly my whole world felt upside down, and I wondered why I had thought I could breeze through this without my husband by my side.

I had just sat holding my sweet, sleeping 4 month old Micah for an hour while an audiologist at Children's Hospital ran a hearing test on his left ear. It drove me crazy watching her laptop graphing the test and not having a clue what it all meant, but I felt him twitch when the frequencies would change so I was holding on to hope that the test was going ok. Logically, I think I knew that it was entirely possible that the test results could show significant hearing loss, as he had already failed two prior screenings in that ear. But I guess I just hadn't allowed myself to believe that he might have anything more than a correctable problem.

As we sat there discussing the test results and what should happen next, Micah was now quite awake and was sitting in my lap hanging on her every word. Then it happened: that big, gummy-bear grin of his just lit up the whole room. He delighted in getting her attention, drew her in with his sweet smiles and baby babbles, and she couldn't even finish her sentence before responding to him! And that is just his sweet nature; even at 4 months old he just has a way of drawing people in to his little world. I think it was then that the first seed of determination was planted in my mind: whatever happens, whatever the problem may be, this little baby is perfect and he will be fine. And I, his worried and possibly overprotective mother, will be fine too. I know sometimes -maybe many times-as we travel this unfamiliar path, it will be a struggle to remember that, but in the grand scheme of things, we could be so much worse off! The reality is that we do have a perfect, joyful, healthy little baby with four siblings who all love him fiercely, and I would not trade that for anything, whether he can hear me with both ears or not.