Saturday, October 28, 2006

The Razor's Edge



 

Flashback to Thursday Night:  Addie and I are driving home from the Fall Festival at her wonderful preschool.  We're both tired, and it's cold and dark outside.  I get Addie out of her carseat and she immediately goes over to the snow--the first big snow of her toddlerhood--and this conversation ensues:


A:  Mommy, can I eat some ice?


M:  Sure, go ahead.


A:  Mommy, can I eat some ice?


M:  Yes, Addie.


A:  Mommy, can I eat some ice?


M:  ADDIE, YES!  YOU CAN EAT SOME ICE!  YOU NEED TO LEARN TO LISTEN!


Flashback to Friday Morning:  I'm getting Addie ready for school, and this conversation happens:


A (playing with something on the floor, not looking at me):  Mommy, can I have some juice please?


M:  Sure, what kind?


A (still not looking at me):  Mommy, can I have some juice please?


M:  Yes, Addie.  What kind?


A (still not looking at me):  Mommy, can I have some juice please?


M (angry now, maybe a little red in the face):  YES ADDIE!  I SAID YES!  YOU NEED TO LEARN TO LISTEN TO THE ANSWER WHEN SOMEONE ASKS YOU A QUESTION!


Addie looks up at me now for this last answer, and sees I'm angry, and her face crumbles.  She flies into my arms.  A lightbulb goes off for me as I realize she didn't hear me the first two times.  But still I wait a whole day, wondering if I've imagined this.  Wondering if instead this is just toddler willfulness.  Finally, last night, Eric got home and confirmed what I had been suspecting:  that Addie hasn't been hearing us.


Does that freak you out?  It's been freaking me out.  Luckily, our reference book of choice--The Baby Book by Dr. Sears--says that this can be a result of inner ear fluid, left over from an old ear infection, and might not be serious if caught early enough.  Addie had an ear infection at the beginning of October, and it may never have resolved itself, even with antibiotics.  The doctor on call at Addie's pediatric practice last night seemed to think this is what is going on, and we're trying to get Addie into the doctor this morning to confirm this diagnosis, the most probable explanation for her not hearing us.


For me, this is what is so hard about parenting:  you have to constantly trust your instincts and be aware and watchful of your kids, and advocate for them.  And at the same time, you have to try to maintain a level head, not rush to the doctor with every little sniffle, try not to panic with every little bump on the head.  And then something like this sneaks up on you, and even though your kid will totally be fine, you get a taste of what it feels like to have something really bad happen in your house.  We're yelling so Addie can hear us, and she is watching our lips to decipher what we're saying, happy as ever, not even knowing that anything is different.  And we have a taste of what it might be like to have a child with hearing loss.  Just the littlest taste, and knowing that she is going to probably be fine.  But still.  This is the razor's edge, the breathtaking, heartbreaking tenuousness of parenting.



2 comments:

  1. Oh my.

    That would wreck me. Of course, I've had lifelong issues with my ears, so I would bring all this whacked out baggage to the table, of course.

    Keep us posted. Seriously.

    Thinking about Addie and you and all of it. All of it.

    LOVE the blog.

    M

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  2. I just read this aloud to Sand and in reading that last line...well, I gots me some tears.

    Good show, JJ.

    M

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