|Waiting for her appointment|
This is all very normal for children with Down syndrome.
But it’s not normal for me.
I’m okay (mostly) with the surgery- in fact, we’re waiting to get it done in Boston- the best Children’s hospital in the world and home of my favorite Doctor I’ve never met ever- Brian Skotko. The tonsils and adenoids thing (they call the procedure “T and A” and I giggle inappropriately every. single. time.) is something we knew she’d have to get done eventually, just not this soon.
When we were getting her audiology tests done, I was surprised at how little she heard. I had a hard time not crying right there. The doctor called it “significant hearing loss” and I’m not sure what that means. The hearing centers in her brain are fully functional, so even if the problem isn’t fluid (and it almost 100% surely is), this hearing loss isn’t permanent.
It got to me though. All of this time when I’d whisper “I love you” when I put her to bed, she couldn’t hear me. When I’d hold her and sing to her, she couldn’t hear me (which is probably why she didn’t cry…). She can hear me when I speak loudly or yell, so it’s not like she doesn’t hear MOST of what I say, (did you see what I did there?) it’s just hard to think of all of the times she didn’t hear me tell her how much I adore her. She knows. I know she knows. But you know that feeling when you leave for a date and realize that you forgot to say goodbye to your kids before you bolted through the door and skipped to your car? That little sinking feeling? Do you not get that? Do you not have a soul at all?
But if you do, it’s kind of like that. I know she knows how much I love her, I’m just sad it’s not one of the more frequent things I yell. She has heard a lot about not fighting forks and for Peyton to not force Casey to “be his nerd” and whatnot, but sharing love loudly has never been our things.
We’ll have to start doing that.