The cone of silence

If I said that I haven't blogged often because I have a newborn, most of you would understand. If I mentioned that said newborn has colic, all of you would understand. And although I am busy tending to her needs 99% of the time, I have also been avoiding blogging because there is one particular thing on my mind and I want to be very careful how I write about it, because as we all know: once something is on the Internet, it is always there.

Brooke is hearing impaired.

At this point we don't know if she's profoundly deaf or if she just has moderate hearing loss. We don't know if it is conductive or sensorineural, neither of which mean a whole lot to people who don't have hearing problems. But, the fact remains that we have taken seven hearing tests and she has failed all seven. She has been seen by an audiology tech, a pediatrician, a otolaryngologist, and finally an audiologist, and all of them gently place probes in her tiny ears, press some buttons, and look at us with a soft smile and shake of their heads.

When she first failed her newborn screening in the hospital we were sure it was just residual fluid in her ears due to the fact that I was only pushing for a few minutes. When she failed again the next day we were a touch more concerned, but thought that the fluid must just need a little more time to dry up. By the time she failed numbers three through seven we progressed to somewhere between horrified and quiet acceptance, and that is where I remain.

The pediatrician says that she is healthy. She was never jaundiced despite exclusive breastfeeding, she is gaining weight like a champ, and there is absolutely no way that anything is wrong with her very powerful lungs. But the fact remains that my little girl may never hear me tell her that I love her and that breaks my heart.

We are hopeful that no matter what the extent of her hearing damage that there will be at least something to work with - even if she has as little as ten percent hearing capabilities they can amplify it with hearing aids and she may be a candidate for cochlear implants later in life. And hearing aids have progressed far beyond the huge, tan-colored appendages that we all used to see on our grandpas. They can even fit them on a child as young as one month old.

But despite the hope that I have been given through my late-night research, I still can't help but cry thinking about the possible hardships my baby will have to go through. Will she learn to speak the same time as other babies? Will she learn to speak at all? Will she get teased in school, or will she have to go to a special school for deaf children? Will she ever hear the lullabies I sing softly to her despite knowing that she probably can't hear me? And will she be able to dance to the first song at her wedding?

I wonder what I may have done (or not done) during my pregnancy to result in her hearing loss. We have no family history, and I had no infections during her incubation time, so did I forget to take my prenatal vitamin on the day her ear canals were forming? Did I listen to music too loudly in the car on the way to obstetrical appointments? Did I not pray enough? And why are the babies born to the idiots on "Sixteen and Pregnant" just fine and my poor baby has to suffer? It is easy to tell other people that God isn't vengeful and He does not punish until you are in a situation where you feel that He is punishing someone you love for something that you did. Or maybe He just doesn't care.

I am so thankful that my husband is here with me to go through the same thing I am and although our emotional journey isn't exactly the same he is the only person that knows exactly what I am feeling when I look at our little miracle. He reassures me when I need it, and holds me at three in the morning when I am crying even though he has to get up for work in two hours and she has already kept us up half the night.

I would gladly give my eyes, ears, hands and legs to save Brooke from suffering for one minute from this condition but unfortunately there is no bartering system for God or the senses. All I can do at this point is wait, research, and continue to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star at night in her glider while the optimist inside me defies her not to hear it.