Flashback Friday: She is deaf.

I knew what the results of the ABR would be before the test began. The preliminary tests all showed the same thing. Monkey was not responding to any sound at any decibel level. Still, despite the previous tests, an ABR was necessary to definitively prove that Monkey had hearing loss.

For the test, Monkey was sedated and hooked up to leads.

When the test concluded, the leads were disconnected. Monkey and I sat together in the darkened, quiet room waiting, while Monkey slept on still groggy from from the sedation.

After what felt like hours, but was in reality only moments, the Audiologist returned with the results.

The Audiologist nodded, solemnly confirming that Monkey could, in fact, not hear anything at all.

So, So Big.

Children speak the truth. Even when the truth is not all that nice to hear. As parents, we try to instill the knowledge of appropriateness. Knowledge such as, it is inappropriate to loudly point out how "fat and unhealthy" someone is with them sitting one table over at the restaurant you frequent. After the "fat and unhealthy" incident, I thought we had adequately covered when to shut up in public.

I thought wrong.

Billy the Pinecone.

The Stupid Student.

Monkey has had cochlear implants for four years now. She speaks well. She hears very well. But sometimes, word discrimination can be an issue. Some words sound like other words. And sometimes that leads to big problems.

This is Monkey and Bean.

Hi. Welcome. Glad you came. Hope you brought coffee. We like coffee. We need coffee. Our kids never seem to sleep at the same time.


Moving on.


Let's start with the basics. We are The Mom and The Dad. We have two kids.

Bean.

And Monkey.

Both of our kids have disabilities, disorders, things, quirks, whatever-you-would-like-call-its of varying degrees. It makes our lives a bit hectic. To say the least. Years ago, when Monkey was first diagnosed, I, The Mom, turned to caringbridge. Later, I found blogging. Here was this instant community. This bond. These people. I was in love. I have made friends through blogging. I have celebrated as children across the country reached milestones. I have cheered parents on as they tried out new strategies. I have received parenting advice through blogging. I have learned to troubleshoot a cochlear implant through blogging. Any bit of information I needed was right there.


But the one thing I noticed? Nobody, nobody, talked about the other stuff. Their failures. The times they tried everything, and their SID kid still ended up knocking over an entire rack of nail polish at CVS. Or the times when they called every single member of the implant team they could reach, ranting and raving like a lunatic about the craptastic equipment their child received, only to be informed by their oldest child that their mother-in-law accidentally got the cochlear implants wet. Nope. Nobody mentions these moments. We all just disappear for awhile, reemerging later with some vagueness such as,

"Timmy has had a rough few days. Pardon my absence."

Their loyal readers, their friends, are quick to jump in with condolences, advice, and whisperings of their own rough days. But nobody is quite willing to say,

"I just couldn't quite get it right."

Or even worse.

"Today was a big, fat FAIL."

Why? Because we are scared of being judged? Because we are scared of people judging our children? Because we are scared if we say one negative thing about our children, people will assume we don't love them fiercely enough?

Well, we love our kids. Our kids do a lot of really cool things. They have overcome obstacles that I never imagined they would. On top of that, they are smart. And funny. And pretty. And I am not just saying that because I am The Mom. It's true. These kids of mine? They rock.

But some days we struggle. Some days are messy. Some days we are overwhelmed. Some days is it is just plain hard to figure out the best way to raise these two kids. We do the best we can. We laugh at the rest.


This blog? This is the rest. These are our failures. Our moments. Our life.

This is Monkey and Bean.