There’s an essay that floats around the Internet about how having a child with special needs is like taking a trip to Holland. To sum it up, when you get pregnant, it’s like planning a trip to Italy. You get all excited about Italy, you buy all the books, you plan out all the places you want to visit, you get on the plain with eager anticipation. Then you land, and you step out to find yourself in Holland, basically having a “what the heck?” moment as you look around at your unexpected surroundings. But of course, at the end of the essay, you decide you love Holland and that it rocks, just not in the way you were planning.

I’m still in Italy.

Seriously, I feel like we’re in a constant limbo. I knew this would probably be the case, but it’s still … strange. It doesn’t bother me most days; I’ve long since come to terms with everything in this crazy whirlwind that has been Daniel’s life. But I feel like we’re still in Italy, despite everyone treating us like we’re in Holland. That’s just life with a deaf CMV baby: there’s all sorts of things for the future, but right now, you wouldn’t know to see him that there is anything wrong. I’ll admit to forgetting, sometimes, about the CMV and major risks involved with it. Maybe that’s horrible. Maybe it’s denial. But he’s just so normal that it doesn’t really click.

We can only hope it stays that way!

Life as a CMV mom though leaves me feeling a little out of sync pretty much everywhere. In groups with completely healthy, uncomplicated babies I’m a little tentative because I do know and recognize that Danny may have all sorts of issues in the future. Preemie groups aren’t quite a right fit either, because he doesn’t have the typical premature concerns. Hearing loss groups I will eventually fit a little better with, but until we truly get moving on that aspect I feel a little off to the side – we don’t have hearing aids or hearing yet, aren’t officially working toward implants, it’s all just a maybe. Special needs groups defintiely aren’t a good fit either, because he’s just at risk – no firm diagnosis. (Well, other than the hearing loss, obviously.)

So I remain in Italy, to return to the metaphor, and enjoy however many days I have left here. While it’s odd, being so out of sync, I have to admit that it’s a beautiful place to be. I’d much rather be in limbo that certain, already, that there are serious problems to be faced. I treat Daniel no differently from how I did Eric; I feel a little silly, sometimes, as I make crazy noises during games or shush him to try to soothe him … but there’s no way around that. I could retrain myself, but why? I’d just feel awkward, and would just have to retrain myself again once we finally have his hearing solutions figured out and in place.

Some people – not many, but a couple – have told me that I need to just up and move to Holland and accept my place. To them, I challenge: why? Why write my son off before he has a chance to prove everyone wrong? That would be pretty atrocious of me to sit back and expect the worst of him.

I prefer Italian food anyway.