200 days to go!

Shaun and I are getting married at the end of December. In Scotland. On the banks of a Loch. I have a big dress. Harriet has a big dress. The boys all have kilts. There will be flowers and candles and fancy wine and amazing food. It’s going to be a frigging fairytale.

Every hospital appointment ends with “do you have any questions?” Every time I ask the same thing “when will the operation be?” “What’s our time scale?” “Can you give me an idea of scheduling?”

Because you see, we’re getting married at the end of December.

And I want our kids to be there, in body and mind and sound.

I don’t want them to be recovering from a major operation. I don’t want them to still be at risk of infection. I don’t want them to be scared and unsure because they are still getting used to the new and different sounds they get with an implant.

I want them to be there. I want them to be happy. I don’t need them to be quiet, or still, or well behaved. But I need them to be there.

Because this wedding isn’t about me and Shaun. It isn’t about dresses and kilts and flowers and food and wine. It’s about me and Shaun and William and Harriet. It’s about being deaf and it’s about being hearing. It’s about surviving cancer. It’s about the baby we never got to know. It’s about broken bones and fallen ceilings.

It’s about survival.

It’s about strength.

It’s about family.

And it’s about love.

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