A few home truths

7am

'Quick Mammy, get up and bake a cake!'

'Mmmf what??!'

'For if Daddy and Little One come home from hospital today, we need to have a party. We need a lemon cake and some crisps! Crisps are Little One's favourites.'

Now, I love dawn baking as much as the next person, but I politely declined the request. There's dishes to be washed, floors to be swept and lunches to be made. And if I'm honest, I also don't want to jinx Little One's chances of getting home.

I told two disappointed faces not to worry. After I brought 'the boys' home, I would simply pop to the shops while they rested, under the pretence of getting bread and milk. While there, I would get some crisps and perhaps even buy a cake if I didn't have time to bake one. Then I waited for the smiles, cheers and possibly even hugs.

Silence.

The conspirators looked at each other. They communicated silently for a moment, then looked back at me. Little Man went first.

'Well, you'll have to be REALLY careful to keep it a surprise Mammy.'

Little Lady chimed in.

'Yes. You see, sometimes you say "Oh goodness, I don't know why the kitchen smells like chocolate chip cookies, there certainly aren't any in your lunchboxes!" and we actually realise that there ARE cookies in our lunchbox.'

Little Man wanted to clarify.

'Sometimes your voice is how we know, and sometimes it's because you're smiling. You need to practice tricking without smiling I think.'

I kept my face VERY straight as I expressed my shock and disappointment at having spoiled so many surprises in the past. They had me practice a couple of times.

'I'm just popping to the shops for milk.
We need milk, I'm just popping to the shops.
I'm off to get milk now, back in a minute.'

I nailed it.
Operation Surprise Party is a go.
Sssshhhh ;)

The good days

The good days. Ah, the good days. When we marvel at your ability to use your whole body, your face and surely some kind of magic to communicate with us.

You are full of mischief, but of such a cheery mischief that it's impossible to scold you. On those good days, the ones filled with engagement, I imagine the cheekiness of your inner monologue.

'Hello mother. Oh you've seen that I am wearing my coat and wellies? Perhaps we should take advantage of this fortuitous turn of events and go Outside together?'

'Walk with me, won't you? Oh look! We have happened upon the front door. Did you know that it leads to the aforementioned Outside?'

'I'd like to have something to eat please. I really don't mind what it is, so long as it comes from the press we keep the Fish Crackers in'

'Mammy, come quick! Something Terrible has happened! Look!! Someone - and there's really no way of knowing who - has spilled my Shreddies all over the floor. Who could do such a thing, on this, the day of my sister's play date?'

'Look Mammy, we've had fun together. It's been great. But, Daddy's here now and, well, this is awkward...'

'I've taken the liberty of bringing you the baby's coat. Perhaps a walk Outside is in order? You may notice that it's the coat he only wears in the stroller. Because I won't be needing the stroller, I shall be extremely busy picking up sticks and posting pebbles through railings'

'Here's the remote control. If you'd like to point it over there please, until Curious George comes on? Not this one. Not this one. Oh I like this one! You shall have a round of applause for a job well done'

'What's that you have there? ANOTHER hot coffee? Hold on, let me put down this toy so I can blow it cool for you. Honestly, I don't know why you make it so hot every morning...'

Your charming face, your disarming smile, your sometimes alarming can-do attitude would be assets for any child but for you, my darling Little One, they are invaluable. You know what? I think you'll be just fine.

The tough days

I knew what you wanted.
Of course I did. I knew even before you did that you'd want to go with Daddy. I don't blame you, he's kinda cool! But you didn't know that I knew. How could you, when you hadn't been able to tell me what you wanted? When I was stopping you from going out the door with him?
You were so upset. You held my hands, gently tried to squeeze your thoughts into them. I was trying to tell you something, but you were too sad to pay attention. Frustrated, you started to hit my outstretched arms, but gently so that it wouldn't hurt. Those soft, tiny fists striking out with less than half your strength.

I asked you to choose a coat. Aha! We WERE going outside! You calmed, wiped the tears decisively from your face. The blue one, because it's fluffy. Excited, you carried your toy car to the door and climbed on.
'No' I signed, 'I'm sorry'
I showed you the stroller.
'No' you signed, deflated. I could see you thinking about getting angry, wondering if those little fists could make me understand. I smiled and nodded, pointing to the front door and you climbed in my arms. You held on tight for a few moments, with your still-damp cheek pressed to mine. Satisfied somehow, you climbed down and got into the stroller.

I'd love to know what went through your head. Were you remembering Wednesday? I'm still so sorry about Wednesday. I wanted you to get into the stroller at the wrong time of day. Despite what your body clock was telling you, it was time to collect Little Man.
'No' you signed. Ran away.
I followed. Picked you up. Put you in the stroller.
'No' you signed, arching your back so I couldn't strap you in.
'Yes' I signed, while my elbow prevented your escape. 'Get brother at school'
'NONONONONO' you shouted, signed and squirmed simultaneously. I was so damn proud! You were doing exactly what we've worked so hard at. Communicating clearly, orally. But I would have to ignore your wishes, without being able to tell you why. I grabbed you and ran to the kitchen press, your tears and mine mixing. A treat. Part-bribe, part-celebration of your achievement. You got into the stroller willingly then. It was only when your brother came over in the schoolyard and high-fived you that you realised I had been planning this all along. Mammy knew best.

Some days are hard. But Daddy and I have a plan. There will be more hard days, but I promise you sweetie that we are working hard on making things easier. We may not always be able to make ourselves understood, but just trust us. Together, with our arms around you, we will figure it out.

A rhyme for morning time

I do not like thee, 8am
'I do not like thee!' shouts this femme.
I did not like 2, 4 or 6
Nor 1am, thrown in the mix.
I do not like your dull grey light,
I'd much prefer the dark of night.
Under my feet, the tiles are cold
My aching back makes me feel old.
Last night's 'sleep' has left me weary
My eyes make all the world seem bleary.
The house is still, and quiet too
But soon it will resemble a zoo,
The older kids will start to stir
The heating will begin to whirr,
The sound of breakfast cereal's pour,
The crunch of it upon my floor.
The smiled requests for one more drink
While dishes pile up in my sink.
Yes, this is just a simple day,
I would not have another way,
But couldn't its beginning wait?
At least 'till maybe half past eight?

Another step on Little One's journey

Little One is a toddler. He is cheeky and cuddly, handsome and helpful. He is also deaf.

He won't always be a toddler, I hope he'll always be helpful, but he will always be deaf.

Having had hearing aids since he was three months old, our clever boy was doing great up until last Spring. Then we noticed he wasn't talking anymore. Or responding to his name.  Further hearing tests were inconclusive, but we had a good idea what was going on.

To help ease frustration, we all learned a couple of signs while we waited for conclusive testing. He still couldn't hear us, but he could ask for food or a drink. He figured out that we could be led to the things he wanted; the press where we keep crackers, the stairs when he wanted to take a nap. He started smiling again. A lot.

More hearing tests, more questions. We asked for a referral to the cochlear implant team and our audiologist worked late that night to get the letter out straight away.

We worked for weeks to get a vocal 'no' and celebrated like it was a Nobel. We learned more and more signs and Little One figured out how to use these with gestures and facial expressions to 'talk' to us.

The cochlear implant team told us what we already knew. He is now profoundly deaf. As profoundly deaf as can be. Hope that we hadn't realised we still held was extinguished, but mostly the news was a relief. We're not crazy, he's not stupid. And he's a candidate for cochlear implantation.

There is no cure for deafness. But cochlear implants, if successful, can give our gorgeous boy access to sound.* When he takes off his processors at night, when he needs a rest after a particularly hard day of listening, he will be deaf. When he has his processors on, he will be a deaf boy who is listening carefully to digital sounds.

It's an exciting time in our house. We're all learning more and more sign language, which is essential for his developing brain as well as providing a foundation for communication and speech. We're playing important games and reading books and making plans.

And yesterday, we got the call. The Call.

Little One will receive his implants in a matter of weeks. A few weeks after that the processors will be switched on and then the real work will begin. Tuning and adjusting the 22 electrode arrays to provide sound without discomfort, learning how to listen again, building listening stamina and, hopefully, using all of that to develop speech.

It's been a tough few months for our little guy. And he's got a long journey ahead. But he's happy and engaged and just a little bit of a show-off, and that will serve him well. He is, as we have always known, simply perfect.


*For anyone wondering what the difference is between 'hearing' and 'access to sound', this video gives a good approximation
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SpKKYBkJ9Hw

Bored? Not this mother.

I was asked recently if I was 'very bored staying at home all day?'
It was (I think) meant in the true spirit of curiosity. Having been in full-time employment since the age of 18, how could I possibly stand to do nothing? If I'm completely honest with myself, I have to acknowledge the days when I feel 'wasted', or underemployed. But there simply is no space for boredom, and goodness knows I've had paid jobs where my value was wilfully under-utilised.

I think that for many, the value of work done by a parent at home isn't recognised. What can there REALLY be to do all day? Well, quite a bit actually. The early years of a child's life are of huge importance and lay the foundations for later life from academia to social skills and self-esteem. An average day in my boring little house includes the following activities and lessons.

Object permanence: The ball was under the blanket the whole time!

Cause and effect: Your voice can turn on the lights.

Physical therapy: Blowing out candles.

Building neural pathways and secure emotional bonds: Cuddling for all ages.

Independent play: The importance of self-discovery, risk-taking and letting Mammy have her coffee.

Gross motor skills: Mammy Tiger's going to catch you!

Vocabulary and memory work: Object matching/Songs with actions/Constant chatter while walking around Lidl.

All of this is to say nothing of three daily trips to 'big school', homework supervision, the constant influx and egress of bodily fluids, meal preparation, laundry and the Sisyphean task of sweeping floors.

So yes, it's worlds away from high heels, deadlines and meetings but preparing four children for life in the great wide world is certainly no less important and is never boring.

It can be difficult to do work that never seems to get finished and can't be submitted for award or promotion, but despite the first lesson of the day, nothing is permanent. One day, as I try to motivate an office full of people to take pride in their work I'll think fondly of the days of reading Roald Dahl down by the river, and accepting heaping praise for making beans on toast as a treat.

Life as a modern woman means that I can have it all, just not all at once. That, and I'll never be bored.

Precious moments

You smell of softness,
I inhale the sweet milkiness of your head.
Your tiny breaths warm my neck
while my arms do their best to encompass your growing body.
I taste the roundness of your cheeks
for the hundredth time (today)
And I count my blessings on your gorgeous fingers and those adorable extra toes.
Your eyes make mine smile,
Even your possets on my shoulder feel like a precious gift.
Your laugh stills my heart, just for a moment,
As I think of the moments gone too soon
When I held you in one arm, when I held you in my womb.
I'm trying to keep those moments in my mind and in my heart,
As I will the many moments to come.
First steps, first spills, freezing cold sidelines and bleary-eyed Christmas mornings will all be ours to share.
But not today.
Today I'll just hold you close, wearing you next to my heart. Because the best moment is this one, right now.