This week, I struggled. I realized the idea of “Trusting and Letting Go” was being sabotaged by my anxious will to come up with something to create for this week. My mind swarmed with ideas and I had no clue how to shut it off. I stared at blank canvases, not sure how to start, and overwhelmed by the infinite possibilities. I was also becoming very aware that I was sharing my progress online, so my self-judgment began to creep in. I wanted to make something worthy of being shared, even though I consciously knew that this was not the point of the exercise.
Here’s what I wrote:
When your child is born deaf, and he comes from a family of hearing people, you worry that he won't ever be accepted by the hearing world. Of course, the chances of that will depend heavily on your whereabouts, your family, the people you meet, the schools he goes to, and the community you're surrounded by.
Up until this year, my son has been very fortunate to frequent schools that offer a Total Communication program. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's an environment that teaches both sign language and speech at the same time. Since he was a toddler, all the way until now, at almost 11 years old, he has been surrounded by professionals who will both speak and sign to him. Due to the effectiveness of his Cochlear Implants, Jason has given preference to oral communication and is being mainstreamed in his 5th grade class 90% of the time. He has a lovely, dedicated interpreter with him, but he uses her more as an aide, making sure he's on top of his subjects, than an actual translator.
As Jason gets older, his deaf and hard-of-hearing peers begin to dissipate. Each family finds their own path of choice that works best for them. They move to different towns, they change schools; we promise to stay in touch, but life is busy (or so we say) and we slowly lose contact. I clearly see the need to find other children around his age that he can relate to and become close friends with. You see, he's not just deaf, he's less mature than most children of his age. He has some other things going on. As his mom, I worry about what's to come with the much dreaded mix of Middle School and Puberty. Socializing becomes important and, with that, the increasing concern about the B word: BULLYING.
His deaf and hard-of-hearing peers have been much more open and accepting of Jason as he is. As we see less and less of them in our daily lives, Jason has been less motivated to use sign language, no matter how much I want to see him continue. While we practice, his signing is difficult to comprehend, and he has a hard time figuring out what I'm signing as well.
My belief is that sign language is the language of the Deaf. Even if he wears Cochlear Implants, he's still a deaf child. When he takes his devices off, he can't hear anything. Sign language is our way of communication when his devices fail, when he's not wearing them, or when the environment is too noisy. I find it extremely important that he's involved in this beautiful language as well as with other deaf peers.
When your child is deaf and wears Cochlear Implants, loves oral communication, and signs poorly, you wonder how well he will be accepted by the Deaf Community. This week, we met with three other kids who went to pre-school with Jason, and their moms. We got an update on their stories and I found out one of his closest friends is going to the California School for the Deaf (CSD). This friend wears Cochlear Implants and, like Jason, prefers oral communication and is not that skilled at signing. Her mom's decision to enroll her in that school got me thinking deeply about the whole package that comes with being deaf: wearing devices, going into middle school, making friends, and facing hormonal changes.
There really isn't one solution for it all. That's a beautiful thing, but it's also a stressful situation to be in as a parent, making choices for your child's life. I wish I could visit adult Jason right now and ask him: what do you want me to do for you? Which of these many choices will be the one that will bring you the most value; that will give you the most success, the least pain, the best experiences, and better relationships?
I'll never know the answer to those questions, so Jason, my best will have to be enough, and I truly hope it will be. If it isn't, I hope you'll forgive me for making any choices that may cause you more pain and suffering. Just never forget how much I love you, and that I'm with you every step of the way.
One comment
Veronica Silk
Priscilla, how beautiful and how hard. Being a parent is always a challenge, but being there for them is what will get you and Jason through. I look back on my “normal” children and grandchildren and find that they had the advantage of hearing, but they also had the “B” word, which was hard for all concerned, except the bully. My thoughts and prayers go out to you and Jason. You have done a beautiful job with him and I know you will continue to do so. Love & hug him all the time, (even when he pushes you away) Stay Strong!