Decisions, decisions

I talked to my bestie yesterday for fifty two minutes on the phone. We both found an open window of time, which is rare, and were able to just talk without interruptions. That hasn't happened in a long time. Feeling no time constraints, I found out exactly what was on my mind because I just couldn't shut up. It all came pouring out. All the thoughts, concerns, fears, and expectations of Baby A's upcoming appointments with the specialists at Vanderbilt have flooded my head. I can try to distract myself, but when I attempt it I find myself gravitating toward books or social media which doesn't always help because I am drawn to information about Cochlear Implants (CIs). I end up reading the good and the bad during the little free time I have. The bottom line is that this is a huge decision, one I almost don't feel is mine, but it has to be.

Ultimately, I want God to just sit beside me and tell me what to do. I wish I had step by step instructions from Him. Instead, I hear nothing. Maybe it's because I'm not listening. Maybe it's because I'm not praying enough for His will. My prayers have been full of tearful hope that Cochlear Implants will be the route we take and that he will thrive with them. But should I not be asking that? I don't know. I start thinking about how his sweet, perfect head will be opened up to have something foreign inserted and all I feel is that this should be a personal decision. I am his mother, though. His dad and I will have to make the decision for him and it's so scary.

These CIs are modern miracles. I truly believe that. It's incredible really. Even if they work and Baby A is able to hear with them, there are x number of things that could go wrong. They could stop working. Get infected. Annoy him. Et cetera. The thing is- he will always be deaf. At night, he will take the processors off and it will be silent. When he gets in the pool (unless he has specialized equipment), he won't hear. He'll always be deaf. There's nothing I can do to change that. It's with that knowledge that I want to equip him in any way I can now. The time is just ticking away for oral language learning and sign language and I can't tell you how frustrated that makes me. Professionals will likely tell me not to teach him to sign and to encourage him to focus on the sound (he will hopefully one day hear). But he'll always be deaf. I feel lead to give him something. I might feel differently if he was young, but before I know it he will be two. TWO years behind his peers.Two of the most important years in development. I look at his older brother and how much he has progressed with language and cognition and it makes me so happy for him and just so frustrated for my second born who will have to work doubly as hard as many of his hearing peers.

Yesterday someone with the early intervention program told me to just breathe and to take time to absorb everything. I feel like I can't. I don't want to stop looking for different avenues that could help him. I want to move forward. I don't know which way is forward, though. I'm feeling so lost with all the different appointments and therapies and programs that have been suggested. Needless to say, I'm counting down the days until we can make the trip to Nashville again and find out more about what we might expect down the road. I'm trying to relax and breathe. 

He's alive. He's happy. Thanks be to God.