You know how whenever you book a hair cut your hair goes all awesome and easy and you start doubting whether or not you actually want it cut?
It’s like that. Except it’s not my hair, it’s my daughter.
Harriet’s cochlear implants are scheduled for January 31st. We found out just before Christmas and I thought I could put it to one side for the fortnight we were away getting married. I managed the first week. But as soon as the wedding was over it crept in, every day. And since we’ve been home it’s consumed me more and more. I am horrible to be around. I am crabby, short tempered, shouty and mean.
Harriet, however, is awesome. She is so very clever. And so very funny. And so very sweet. And cute. And fun to be around. She’s awesome and she’s easy.
And I am almost certainly certain that we are doing the right thing. Giving her the choice. Giving her the option to hear and to talk. Maximising her chances of a happy, successful, fulfilling life.
But she’s so happy right now. And so perfect. And I’m changing her forever.
And, unlike my hair, her natural hearing (minimal as it is) will never grow back.