Tonight is one of those nights where I'm going to flat out say that it SUCKS that Christian is deaf. He's overtired, and when he's overtired, he has restless nights. Sometimes he has nightmares. Tonight, he's woken up screaming 3 times already and it's only 10:30. Moms of deaf kids will confirm that these screams aren't your typical screams. They are blood-curdling, so loud that the neighbors might call the police screams. I run into his room, and do my best to comfort him with my touch. I keep it dark so not to scare him, but that also means he can't see my crude signing and read my lips. So I pick up my sack-of-potato 43 pound bruiser and carry him into the kitchen. I dim the lights, sit him at his chair at the table, pour a glass of water and run back into his room. I fumble in his closet to put one of his processors together, as he just cries and cries back in the kitchen.
The light on his processor turns on, and he goes quiet.
I ask him what's wrong. I ask what I can do for him.
"Mom, I couldn't hear! I couldn't hear! I'm thirsty! I couldn't hear!"
And my heart breaks. No matter how thankful I am for the miracle of the CI, it doesn't change that he's deaf. My sweet little boy.