The thought crosses my mind as I’m feeding Danny, talk practically non-stop in the process about more and yummy and sweet bananas: how often do you see a newborn turn to look at a sound when it’s presented?
You don’t even think about it, do you?
And if you did … you probably wouldn’t see it very often.
Too much focus on his hearing is unhealthy. If you build it, it will come. Let’s build. I think I may have just let go – not too much, but just enough.
So after the past 2 days, I’ve decided there is a reason that the people around us are trained professionals and I am not: short of the 2 minutes of video I posted, I saw next to nothing in the past two days’ appointments, each over an hour long. They say he can hear. They say he’s listening. He has 3 programs of sound. I see … nada.
They say he’s doing all these phenomenal things, he’s responding so well, and then I go home and see him do almost nothing and am left wondering what the catch is. He did respond once to Daddy clapping this morning (yay!). It’s a start on a long, slow road. I’m left trying to find patience to see something, anything to validate our decision to get cochlear implants. He goes to daycare, they play with tambourines, he doesn’t respond, and they all look at me apprehensively. Are they working? Does he do anything at home?
At home he sleeps, thanks. 6:30 last night he fell asleep, and he woke up at 5 the next morning. I guess that’s a sign he’s doing something, if he’s so exhausted, right?
Above all of that, though, it’s still pretty awesome. Those moments yesterday and today where I could see something were incredible. I feel so lucky to live in a time where this is possible. A coworker watches the video and comes out of his office with tears in his eyes because he is so amazed and thankful for the gift we’ve been given … it’s humbling, how many people are traveling this journey with us.
I just wish he’d give me some sign we aren’t doing something wrong! The weight of the responsibility we have gladly accepted is on me today, as he wears his implants and sits with Daddy on the floor. Every moment feels like a moment squandered, and yet I can only go on so long without him responding before I need a break. It is our job to make sound meaningful, so he doesn’t just tune it out. How can we do that?
What if we fail to make it meaningful enough, and he tunes it all out?
Can he DO that?
I’ve got a sleeping baby being dead weight on one arm, so please forgive any typos!
Keeping in mind that you can’t have huge expectations for an initial stim, today was beautiful. I’ve seen him react a small handful of times at home (OK … twice) but the first days with a implant you don’t see major things, his brain is still trying to figure out what is going on. I am amazed, though. He had definite reactions to some louder stuff, and got quite still and wide eyed, looking around a little, for speech. Speech! My deaf baby! (Granted, this was loud speech with them turned quite up – he is not hearing normal speech quite yet. That will come soon, but the last thing we want is to overdo it and scare him.) Unlike the hearing aids, while there still isn’t a lot, I could see it this time: the start of sound.
We also turned both on today! We will tweak the programs tomorrow. He has a harness that he wears them in, and he was great leaving them, and that, alone.
A huge day, with little signs. I am so glad, so thankful.
I don’t have a pic of him wearing them yet, we were busy talking and listening and playing. But here is the best part of our 1.25 hour video…