Hopes

I had my hopes up. I didn't know I did, until I got the news.

There was so much anticipation leading up to her next hearing test. It was the first since she was a newborn, and they would test her hearing in a sound booth where she could turn to the sounds on her own, instead of being hooked up to machines to test it. I had been waiting for this test. But the day before it, she got her double ear infection. And for four weeks after that, she still had fluid in her ears. So, for those four weeks (not to mention the four months before that) I got more and more anxious.

She didn't wear her hearing aids for those four weeks. So I tried to pay attention. She would turn her head to her siblings' yelling. She would turn her head to a dog barking. She would turn her head to the garbage truck outside. Would she turn her head to the gently spoken sound of her name? The flash of her bright blue eyes confirmed she could hear it.

This hearing stuff must just be a bunch of malarky, I cautiously thought to myself - for I knew I did not want to get my hopes up. Sometimes hope can be inspiring. But sometimes it can be dangerous. I already knew that.

But then I met someone that dared me to hope. We were at the zoo and Taryn was finally better. Her hearing test was in two days. She had her hearing aids on with a little bonnet to hold them in. A mother approached me and asked if my baby wore hearing aids. Her one-year-old daughter did as well. But just yesterday she had a hearing test, which she passed!* So she didn't have to wear her hearing aids any more. Really? My daughter has her's in two days. Maybe that will happen to us too, because I swear she can hear just fine.

Two days later I confidently held Taryn on my lap in that sound booth. I beamed with each turn of her head. But sometimes she didn't turn. I already knew that wasn't the only thing audiologists look for during a hearing test. If she blinks her eyes or in any way changes what she was doing, then that is a sign of hearing something. She was on my lap so I couldn't see her eyes. Did they blink?

The test was done. I sat down with our audiologist for the results. With her hearing aids on, Taryn can hear just at the lower end of normal. So in a few more months we may want to turn the volume on them up a bit. Without her hearing aids, the results are basically where they were when she had her Auditory Brainstem Response Test. A moderate hearing loss.

I listened. Not too surprised. This is what I expected to hear. But as I drove away, the realization set in that it was not at all what I had hoped to hear. I wanted that miracle. The one that the other mother got. I wanted the worry and the unknowns and the tests and the appointments and the weird looks and the pity and the struggles and the stress and most of all the worry of what my daughter's future holds, to be gone.

I wanted the easier route. The familiar one. Then I realized that this route is not that much different from the one I've already known. My worries for Taryn are the same as any parent's for any child. Will she have friends? Will she be made fun of? Will she have developmental delays? Will she be successful? Have a good self-esteem? Be confident? Be a good example? Obedient? Likeable? Make good choices? Will she know that she is beautiful? Will she know she is loved? Will she know that she is in every way a perfect, and perfectly loved, daughter of God? And will she believe it?

I have already asked myself these questions. Already had these worries. Still have these worries. They're the same ones I have for all my children.

And just as my worries are the same, so are my hopes.

Mr. Reeve, our dear Superman says, "Once you choose hope, anything is possible."

Maybe hope isn't such a bad thing after all.

* After talking to our hearing specialist that comes to our home for weekly visits with Taryn, I learned that the cases of a child's hearing actually improving are extremely rare. The little girl I met had other developmental handicaps (it was something similar to down syndrome). In a case like that, her hearing loss was caused by a delay in the development of her central nervous system and the brain's ability to process sound. In that case, it is not uncommon for a child to gain her hearing. It was never lost. Just needed to be developed. I wish I had known that before my thoughts got away from me. But it made me extremely happy for that other mother. One victory in her war that is sure to have many battles.