So. We are cochlear implants a go-go. For Harriet. In January.
I felt nothing when they confirmed it. I was having a good week, was feeling strong and happy. We had expected them to say that. So it wasn’t really news.
The worst bit was when the surgeon said “I want to use the somethingorother implant because the coil itself, that goes into the cochlear, is soft. That means there is less drilling on her skull.”
I wanted to vomit. I want to vomit now just thinking about it.
It’s so hard being a parent, when what’s best for your child conflicts with what’s best for your child.
She needs implants. I want her to have implants. It’s what’s best.
But drilling in to her effing skull.
How can that be what’s best?
I am having similar emotions with Will being at school. He’s so tired. And he cries so hard every morning when I put him on the bus. He holds on to both my hands so tight and begs me to stay at home.
My freaking heart starts every day in two.
But it’s what’s best. His language is coming on. I know that he loves it there, that he’s making friends, that he adores his teacher.
But he’s only 3. And he’s gone for 8 hours of the day. He’s my baby. And he has black bags under his eyes. He’s only 3.
Hopefully in 5, 10, 20 years I will know that I did what was best. That, although hard, in the choices between what’s best and what’s better, I made the right call.
But right now I’m being torn in two. And it hurts so bad.