I know I've been MIA, and thank you to everyone who has sent me emails and messages wondering what has been going on. We're busy. I've been overwhelmed with Halloween, Chuck being away for the weekend, preparing for Christian's public school transition IEP, and the day to day craziness of our family.
While at Christian's teacher conferences we heard all sorts of wonderful reports about Christian. We heard how he is a great friend, how he is doing great in his math and handwriting centers, and how he still loves dramatic play. We learned that he does still get a bit frustrated, but is still a class leader. He is having a great Pre-K year.
And then we learned that Christian expressed to his teachers that he "Wished he didn't have a hearing loss" one morning when he was pulled out for his listening check. His teachers encouraged us that it was a one-time thing, and that he said it because he didn't like being pulled away from time with his friends. My heart sank, I attempted to choke back tears, but they still came.
We've always taken a faith based approach to explaining Christian's hearing loss to both of our children. God MADE both of you perfect. He gave Christian magic ears. Everyone has their special gift, and Jesus thinks that you both are perfect. Christian has thought of his hearing loss as almost a superpower. His Cochlear Implant sometimes does give him BIONIC hearing. The child can hear the ice cream truck from 6 blocks away. It's always been "cool". Lily still pretends that she has a CI, because she wants to be just like her brother. Christian always has felt "special". Now at almost 5 years old special doesn't cut it anymore.
So, my heart broke just a little bit last week as I reminded very harshly that my sweet boy is growing up and noticing that he is indeed different. We're preparing for him to transition into our public school Kindergarten this coming up Fall, and while I know he is going to be absolutely amazing and do fine academically and socially, he'll be the only kid with a hearing loss.
I have a feeling I'm going to be a basketcase from now until he graduates high school.