This morning we are off to the hospital. The same hospital we’ve been to countless times. The familiar journey, familiar play room, familiar faces on reception and in the cafe.
But this morning is different. This morning we aren’t going to the audiology department. This morning we are going to the COCHLEAR IMPLANT department.
This is huge. And this is scary.
I’m trying to go about the morning’s usual chores of laundry and dishes and I keep randomly bursting into tears.
These are my babies. I don’t want people drilling into their heads. I don’t want them to have big magnets on the side of their heads. Mostly, I don’t want them to be scared.
But I want them to hear. And I want them to talk.
Even now, 3 years later, I am still surprised by all this. Deaf kids? Me? Now? What? Deaf kids? Genes? Syndrome? What?
This isn’t what I envisioned having children would be like – endless hospital appointments, endless heartache, endless surprises and endless, endless guilt.