Raising a Deaf Child is Transformative

My two-and-a-half-year-old stumbles and falls, instinctively signing “momma” in American Sign Language, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cries out for comfort. Onlookers are amused and amazed at his ease of communication amidst the chaos. Their fascination grows as they observe the remarkable clarity of my toddler’s verbal communication, despite his deafness and reliance on bilateral cochlear implants.

My son was born when my daughter was nearly two-and-a-half years old. I believed I had already grasped the challenges of parenting, thinking the arrival of the second child would be smoother. After a seamless delivery at the hospital, we eagerly awaited taking our newborn home and introducing him to his big sister. However, there was one final task: the newborn hearing screen, required in most states in the U.S. The nurse arrived with her testing equipment on a cart. Minutes later, she revealed that our son had not passed the hearing screen.

Six weeks later, he failed the test again, and finally, a detailed test by an audiologist confirmed that our son was profoundly deaf. The initial shock gave way to waves of grief and anger as the reality of the situation settled in. Deafness seemed like something confined to TV shows and books; how could it be a part of our lives?

Understanding that there was no medical cure to restore him to normal left me grappling with disbelief and helplessness. My mind was overwhelmed by a relentless barrage of questions: What did it mean for my son to be profoundly deaf? How would he navigate life without hearing? As others joyfully welcomed typical babies home from the hospital, why was our path marked by this unforeseen detour? My worries compounded as I contemplated never hearing him say “I love you” or “Momma.” How would he fit into our family? It felt like a nightmare from which I desperately wished to wake up. I felt lost, unsure of how to handle this new reality.

In a matter of months, still on maternity leave, I found myself on the way to the state school for the deaf, grappling with a sense of self-pity for both my son and myself. This wasn’t a part of the future I had imagined, and I never anticipated becoming part of this community. Yet, as I stepped through those doors for the first time, any notions of pity or sympathy were replaced with genuine acknowledgment and acceptance. I was met with congratulations on the arrival of my newborn, without any reservations about his deafness. Instead, the focus shifted towards ensuring full language access for him, recognizing its pivotal role in his growth and development. I was often reminded that my son was perfect just as he was.

From then to now, we have come a long way. We’ve forged meaningful connections within the deaf community, which have helped us embrace deafness as a natural part of life. These past two and a half years, we’ve not only raised a toddler and a newborn, we’ve done it while navigating the unknowns and learning a new language. Our son has also thrived with his cochlear implants, which have seamlessly integrated into his daily life. He is at par, if not ahead, in his spoken language with typical kids of his age.

As our perspectives have evolved, so too have our aspirations for his future. When one day all we badly wanted was for our son to be able to go to a mainstream school like any other child, today we are gearing up to advocate with the school district to place him in the state’s school for the deaf. We want him to develop a strong deaf identity and be proud of who he is, every bit of it.

My son’s arrival has been a transformative and deeply meaningful experience for me. I’ve become cognizant of the diversity that has always existed around me. Now, I notice people using sign language, children with cochlear implants or hearing aids, and I’ve abandoned the assumption that everyone fits a single mold. I’ve come to understand that differences don’t imply inferiority and have engaged with a community I had previously overlooked. I have been introduced to the concept of “ableism,” and have come to recognize my own past ignorance.

If I could speak to my worried self from two years ago, I would tell her how my son is absolutely thriving and how this journey through motherhood has been an extraordinary one. Through him, I’ve come to understand the true essence of “I love you” transcends language modality and brings equal joy whether spoken or signed. My son’s uniqueness isn’t something to be molded or fit into our family; rather, he was born to stand out. It’s incumbent upon us as his family to embrace and celebrate his differences. I hope to empower him to navigate his world with confidence and flair, enriching not only his own life but also the lives of those around him.