Wow... it has been a long time since I touched this poor neglected blog! I'm not making an excuse but so much has happened over the last nine months.
In amongst the usual craziness that comes with work and three children, I ran myself a bit thin. And... I started to doubt myself as a mother. I really got myself into a place where I started to doubt my ability to cope, to judge, to understand my own children.
I felt something was wrong with my youngest but listened to everyone who told me, "He's fine. He'll talk when he's ready." I started going to seminars on autism when people told me that his reluctance to talk may be behavioural. But I couldn't quiet this small voice in my heart that told me what I knew.
The signs were there. Not responding to his name. Communicating with his hands and with a series of grunts. Slow reaction time. Siblings who just stopped talking to him. Thank God for a GP who didn't treat me like a hysterical mother and who sent me for another hearing test - this time one that used technology to measure hearing rather than the behavioural tests I was sure the Small Boy was fluking.
I knew it. I knew it. Now I was mad at myself for not making more noise, for not making someone listen to the truth I already knew. My son was deaf.
I saw was because when we were told (two and a half years into his little life) that he was hearing practically nothing, a crazy medical machine was put in action. Suddenly, after being told on a Tuesday that he was impaired, we were booked in for a Thursday exploratory op with surgeon I'd just met in the hospital where every elderly family member seemed to go at the end. At end of term, no less. And with Miss Piggy's birthday on the Wednesday.
I felt like I was being sucked into a tornado - the very same people who told me his mutism was selective were now saying there was a very real and medical reason for his not talking. I started worrying about the affects of anaesthetic, of staph infections, of doctor error. I started trying to convince myself it wasn't his ears. I cried and I cried and I howled hysterically. I rang our GP at home to ask a billion questions. But in the end, what choice did I have? I knew they were right. I'd known before they'd known.
So... my Small Boy is no longer deaf. Thanks to the miracle of modern medicine we have a temporary 'fix' that means he now hears in excess of 95% of the world around him. We have spent the last few months teaching him about the hearing world (along with dealing with floods and tornados, but that's another story). Is anyone out there interested in hearing about our journey? Is there anyone out there with tips on teaching a now three year old to talk? Has anyone got a similar story to share?
I'm doing OK - really I am! I'm feeling positive about my Small Boy and his ability to cope in the big world. He's learned that people talk with their mouths open, that hand dryers (despite their ugly growling sound) won't hurt you and that saying, "Maa," is bound to make his mother cry.
So far to go... yet we've come so far already. Thank you for listening :)