A New Little Ear to Whisper Into

Must fold wash, practice chords on my hopelessly out-of-tune guitar, read The Cat Who Cried for Help, and watch American gymnasts and swimmers win medals. Have a lot to post about though. Went to Southwick's Zoo today and Summer and Charlie rode a camel AND an elephant. Went to committee meeting for the nature boardwalk behind Summer's school; am in charge of creating zesty slogan for fundraising to rebuild.

Most importantly, went to see a mom in the next town over who has a six-week-old baby with microtia. She got my name from Early Intervention. Oddly, we had met before--her daughter, who does not have hearing loss, received speech services from EI with Charlie.

I had a feeling she wanted to see that Charlie is a typical three-year-old, not bothered by his little ear in terms of hearing or appearance. I was right.

Charlie played with trucks while we moms talked about surgery. I described the journey we'd taken, meeting with our doctors, with Dr. Brent, Dr. Kesser, and Dr. Reinisch, and talking with prosthetic ear specialists. I explained that while we were currently favoring the Medpor route--fewer, and less physically invasive, surgeries; more attractive results; but less time-tested--she would have to figure out what was best for her baby and her family.

I advocated for atresia repair surgery for her baby, though Charlie is not a candidate. "Jeff met someone at work who has microtia and atresia," I told her. "He said he never cared about how his ear looked, but he really wished he could hear better on that side." She wasn't too excited about the prospect. She said her father knew someone in college who had the little ear, and he got by without any trouble. "I think they'll be just fine," she said, gesturing towards Charlie and then her own baby. This was a surprise to me. I was pleased to meet someone who was not in a total panic to "fix" the situation. But I do think atresia repair surgery is a good idea, if Dr. Kesser says your kid is a good candidate.

Just as we were getting ready to leave, the other mom started talking about how she felt when her adorable baby was born--about wanting to turn back time, do a do-over, go back to the moment before she went into labor. All the same things I felt three-plus years ago. We talked about how our husbands handled things differently than we did, and that's OK. I realized that even though this mom seemed so calm about everything, she was just six-weeks post-partum, and even under banal circumstances, that's a really wretched time in one's life. Hormonal crashes, no sleep. Add a completely unexpected, unexplained birth defect and you've got crazy times ten.

We've come a long way. I wanted to show this other mom that we were fine, and I did. I told her I'd felt all those feelings, and I don't feel them anymore, and I can't remember when I stopped, but the important thing is that you do stop. What she did was remind me how it feels when you're not quite fine. I made a mental note to call her soon, not to play the part of the veteran or the expert, but just to listen.

Comments

[cate]

Thank you for calling her. Talking to another mom who'd been through something similar was the only thing that made any sense at all, to me. And crazy times ten is right. Crazy times ten, squared.

I can't wait to hear the slogan! how 'bout "don't tread on me"? Or maybe just "tread on me".

Jill, you are so compassionate, I'm glad you were able to share that with someone who needed it.