One thing I knew would happen when having a second child is that I’d have to go through the motions once again of letting my hearing child know that Mommy and Daddy are deaf, what being deaf means, that we use sign language and that things are just a little bit different in our home mainly because the parents can't hear. For example, we look out windows to see who is at the door instead of shouting at an unseen knocker standing on the other side of a thick wall of wood, and we have captioning on our TV set to let us know what people are saying.
I knew I’d have to go through this all over again with Jesse. What I didn’t count on, however, was constantly having to remind him that I need to see his lips if I want to lipread him.
The big difference between my two hearing children is that one of them signs more than the other. Jennifer is the signer. And even though Jesse learned signs a lot quicker than Jennifer did as a toddler, Jesse is rarely signing to us. He hardly ever signs. At all.
So, for the most part, my husband and I have had to rely on lipreading him to understand him. Sometimes he will write things down to the best of his abilities or I’ll employ one of the many tricks I use to understand a non-signing child better (which I talk about in my deaf parenting book), but mostly, with Jesse, it’s all about lipreading.
The downside about that, though, is that, being 5, Jesse sometimes forgets that in order for us to lipread him, we need to see his lips!
I have sounded like a broken record lately because I have had to keep repeating certain reminders to Jesse when it comes to lipreading:
“Jesse, I can’t read your lips when your face is right in front of mine.”
“Jesse, I can’t read your lips if you cover your mouth.”
“Jesse, I can’t read your lips when you are looking away. You need to look at me when you talk.”
And I also tell him I can’t read his lips when he’s talking too fast or when there is food in his mouth.
I was raised in an oral home, so I don’t mind lipreading. As it is, we use both lipreading and sign language to communicate. But when it’s only lipreading, we have to make sure that the person speaking remembers certain guidelines to follow in order to make lipreading work. For Jesse, we have to repeat these reminders. We had to do the same thing with Jennifer when she was little. Many times, she forgot we can’t lipread her if we can’t see her lips. Eventually, the reminders sunk in. I hope they’ll sink in for Jesse, too. At some point.
Showing posts with label deaf parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deaf parenting. Show all posts
Monday, July 08, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Talking funny
One thing that is known about the deaf is that we occasionally “talk funny” – in that we mispronounce words. I have done this so many times. I would pronounce “media” as “meh-dia,” “suit” instead of “sweet” for the word “suite,” and “a-cow-stic” instead of “a-coo-stic” for the word “acoustic.” Even still, there are words I cannot pronounce correctly no matter how many times I am told how to pronounce these words. I cannot pronounce the word “anime” because I keep reading it phonetically. Even the word “Samhain,” which is in the title of my forthcoming novel, is a word I keep having a hard time pronouncing because, here again, I say the word phonetically. I am subscribed to a “Word a Day” mailing list, and I always pay attention to how the words are pronounced. For some words I know, I’ll be surprised to learn I’d been pronouncing it wrong!
But there is another kind of “talking funny” and that is when hearing people pronounce words differently, as though they have an accent or something. I am beginning to wonder if that is the case with Jesse.
When Jennifer was a toddler, she had a speech impediment. She could not say the ending “-th” in words and her “l’s” were “w’s” (she called her cousin, Laurie, ‘Waurie” and her friend Lilly became “Willy”). Of course, she outgrew it, but Jesse is going through it now, too. But not only is he doing that, he seems to be doing something else, too.
For example, this morning. He asked me how to spell the word “but” yet when he said that word, it looked like he was saying “boot” when I lipread him. I kept telling him how to spell “boot” but he kept saying that was not the word he meant. So I got Jennifer in on this. She said it sounded like he said “bout” (as in, “about”), but insisted that was not the word he wanted to know how to spell. Neither of us could understand him! And my attempts to try to get him to use the word in a sentence were not successful.
Finally, he wrote the word down as he thought it was spelled: “B-U-T.”
And you know what’s interesting? I had even guessed that word! I asked him if the word was “but” and he said no. I pronounced the word as it should be pronounced (like “butt”) and he had not understood me.
Had he even heard me correctly? I pondered this for a while. Sometimes the kids say they don’t hear ME speaking to them very well, and even Jennifer has told me I don’t pronounce words all the way. This is strange because I was able to talk before I became deaf (I was 13), and so I figure my speech is fine. Or maybe I had not spoken loud enough, a common problem for someone who can’t judge how loud her own voice is.
Nevertheless, I was concerned. The word Jesse meant was “but” yet Jennifer had HEARD “bout.” Was it possible Jesse was saying words wrong?
I know he will have a speech therapist when he enters elementary school (just as Jennifer did – and this was what helped her get over her speech impediment) but I thought maybe we should look into seeing one sooner. I brought this up with my husband and he said not to worry about it, though he DID sit down with Jesse himself to go over the speech thing.
So I guess we have to wait until he goes into elementary school and starts seeing a speech therapist. Oh, boy, it’s going to be a long summer. Ironically, even if I wore a hearing aid, I still might not be able to understand all of the words Jesse says to me each time he speaks to me. Not if he is not saying the words correctly.
But there is another kind of “talking funny” and that is when hearing people pronounce words differently, as though they have an accent or something. I am beginning to wonder if that is the case with Jesse.
When Jennifer was a toddler, she had a speech impediment. She could not say the ending “-th” in words and her “l’s” were “w’s” (she called her cousin, Laurie, ‘Waurie” and her friend Lilly became “Willy”). Of course, she outgrew it, but Jesse is going through it now, too. But not only is he doing that, he seems to be doing something else, too.
For example, this morning. He asked me how to spell the word “but” yet when he said that word, it looked like he was saying “boot” when I lipread him. I kept telling him how to spell “boot” but he kept saying that was not the word he meant. So I got Jennifer in on this. She said it sounded like he said “bout” (as in, “about”), but insisted that was not the word he wanted to know how to spell. Neither of us could understand him! And my attempts to try to get him to use the word in a sentence were not successful.
Finally, he wrote the word down as he thought it was spelled: “B-U-T.”
And you know what’s interesting? I had even guessed that word! I asked him if the word was “but” and he said no. I pronounced the word as it should be pronounced (like “butt”) and he had not understood me.
Had he even heard me correctly? I pondered this for a while. Sometimes the kids say they don’t hear ME speaking to them very well, and even Jennifer has told me I don’t pronounce words all the way. This is strange because I was able to talk before I became deaf (I was 13), and so I figure my speech is fine. Or maybe I had not spoken loud enough, a common problem for someone who can’t judge how loud her own voice is.
Nevertheless, I was concerned. The word Jesse meant was “but” yet Jennifer had HEARD “bout.” Was it possible Jesse was saying words wrong?
I know he will have a speech therapist when he enters elementary school (just as Jennifer did – and this was what helped her get over her speech impediment) but I thought maybe we should look into seeing one sooner. I brought this up with my husband and he said not to worry about it, though he DID sit down with Jesse himself to go over the speech thing.
So I guess we have to wait until he goes into elementary school and starts seeing a speech therapist. Oh, boy, it’s going to be a long summer. Ironically, even if I wore a hearing aid, I still might not be able to understand all of the words Jesse says to me each time he speaks to me. Not if he is not saying the words correctly.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Counting on your fingers
In the adult world, counting on your fingers is supposed to be a sign of less-than-optimal intelligence. But in the deaf and hard-of-hearing world, those who sign use their fingers to show numbers all the time. Just as there are signs for the letters of the alphabet, there are also signs for numbers.
When Jennifer was little, I taught her the alphabet by voice and sign. I would sign and say the letters at the same time. This was repeated when I taught her numbers. We are doing this with Jesse, as well. Just as we sign letters to him, so he knows what the signs are, we also sign how to count on his fingers with each number.
When children use their fingers to count, it usually goes that they would hold up each finger and count to 10 with both hands. But for signing, we only use one hand for all the numbers.
To get an idea of how to sign the numbers with one hand, check out this video:
Anyway, I have been working with him on that. It took some time for him to grasp signing "3" the way it's done in ASL. Holding up the three big fingers for "3" is the same as the letter "W" so, for a signer, we use the middle, index fingers and the thumb for the number "3." (When hubby and I watched the movie Inglorious Basterds, I had to marvel over how a character discovered a spy based on how the bad guy indicated the number "3." He did so using the way the number is signed in ASL. I could only think that a deaf person during that part of history must have been too scared to sign "3" for fear of being accused of being a spy!) But he has finally been able to sign "3" like we do, though occasionally he reverts back to "W" instead. And, for a time, he also forgot the number "4," both verbally and physically (yes, he counted 1-2-3-5 for a while there).
Yesterday, while we were waiting to be called at his doctor appointment, I tried to keep him preoccupied by counting things. He would point at pictures of flowers and count them in each photo. He counted all 10 flowers in one picture. And he counted on his fingers correctly. I praised him and gave him a little cheer for counting to 10 both verbally and physically (the way a signer counts to 10) and he was quite proud of himself. He counted all 10 flowers again before dashing off to study something else in that waiting area.
I am glad he can count to 10 the way a signer does. Now we need to work on getting him to count higher -- both verbally and on just one hand.
When Jennifer was little, I taught her the alphabet by voice and sign. I would sign and say the letters at the same time. This was repeated when I taught her numbers. We are doing this with Jesse, as well. Just as we sign letters to him, so he knows what the signs are, we also sign how to count on his fingers with each number.
When children use their fingers to count, it usually goes that they would hold up each finger and count to 10 with both hands. But for signing, we only use one hand for all the numbers.
To get an idea of how to sign the numbers with one hand, check out this video:
Anyway, I have been working with him on that. It took some time for him to grasp signing "3" the way it's done in ASL. Holding up the three big fingers for "3" is the same as the letter "W" so, for a signer, we use the middle, index fingers and the thumb for the number "3." (When hubby and I watched the movie Inglorious Basterds, I had to marvel over how a character discovered a spy based on how the bad guy indicated the number "3." He did so using the way the number is signed in ASL. I could only think that a deaf person during that part of history must have been too scared to sign "3" for fear of being accused of being a spy!) But he has finally been able to sign "3" like we do, though occasionally he reverts back to "W" instead. And, for a time, he also forgot the number "4," both verbally and physically (yes, he counted 1-2-3-5 for a while there).
Yesterday, while we were waiting to be called at his doctor appointment, I tried to keep him preoccupied by counting things. He would point at pictures of flowers and count them in each photo. He counted all 10 flowers in one picture. And he counted on his fingers correctly. I praised him and gave him a little cheer for counting to 10 both verbally and physically (the way a signer counts to 10) and he was quite proud of himself. He counted all 10 flowers again before dashing off to study something else in that waiting area.
I am glad he can count to 10 the way a signer does. Now we need to work on getting him to count higher -- both verbally and on just one hand.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
"I can't read your lips with that thing in your mouth!"
The plan was to get Jesse off of the pacifier (“binky”) when he turned 3. His third birthday has come and gone…and he is STILL using the binky! But, thankfully, we have managed to get him to understand that binky is for sleep time, not any other time. Of course, he’s so attached to his binky that he STILL tries to use it for every other time of the day. But we have been working with him on that. I just don’t want him to be one of those kids with blistered lips because he’s still sucking on his pacifier when he’s 5 years old.
Certain changes in his life have meant disposing of the binky. For one thing, he has started preschool, so on the days he goes to preschool (two days of the week), I tell him “no binky at school” before we head out the door in the mornings (on weekdays) and he’ll happily spit the pacifier into the sink (I wash them religiously so we have taught him to spit used binkies into the sink).
For another thing, he has gotten pretty talkative now – and I just can’t lipread him when he has the binky in his mouth. I have told him several times, “I can’t read your lips with that thing in your mouth.” Of course, he has continued to try to talk to me with the binky in his mouth. And, for some time, I have been telling him the same thing: “I can’t read your lips with that thing in your mouth!”
He does know some signs, and even as he tries to sign other things, he hasn’t quite mastered it yet. So for things he can’t sign, we rely on lipreading to understand what he is saying.
As often I have tried to get him to understand that I can’t read his lips when he talks to me with the binky, it really never got through to him, because he kept trying to talk to me with that binky in his mouth. I feel that, perhaps, tonight, I have finally made some progress.
After I gave Jesse his bath this evening, I had him on my bed, drying him off. He was trying to talk to me, but he had the binky in his mouth. (I had promised him he could have it back after his bath.) I stopped drying him off, got to his level, and explained in as simple language as I could that I needed to see his mouth when he is talking to me and his dad. I can’t understand him when he talks with the binky in his mouth. Gradually, I coaxed the binky out of his mouth and told him to tell me again what he said. He pointed at his leg then said that he has an owie. (He got a scratch on his leg last week and, ever since, it has been his cross to bear.) I acknowledged his owie and reminded him, as I had before, that it would go away. He got his binky back and I finished toweling him off then dressed him. After we brushed his teeth, he said goodnight to his big sister (who gets to stay up tonight because of no school tomorrow) and I put him to bed.
As I was saying goodnight to him, giving him hugs and kisses and telling him goodnight, he stood still in his crib, looked at me and said something.
“What?” I said. “I can’t read your lips with that thing in your mouth, Jesse.”
I tested his reaction as I gently pulled on the binky. He had no problem letting me remove it from his mouth. "What did you say?" I asked him. He looked at me and said, “I love you.”
I smiled. At least this was something he could sign, even with that thing in his mouth. I told him I love him, too, gave him an extra kiss then gave him back his binky. Then I reminded him that “I love you” is something he could sign. I showed him the sign for “I love you” and he did his best to sign it the normal way, not his way. But it’s close enough, and at least this way I get what he is saying whether or not I can lipread him.
Certain changes in his life have meant disposing of the binky. For one thing, he has started preschool, so on the days he goes to preschool (two days of the week), I tell him “no binky at school” before we head out the door in the mornings (on weekdays) and he’ll happily spit the pacifier into the sink (I wash them religiously so we have taught him to spit used binkies into the sink).
For another thing, he has gotten pretty talkative now – and I just can’t lipread him when he has the binky in his mouth. I have told him several times, “I can’t read your lips with that thing in your mouth.” Of course, he has continued to try to talk to me with the binky in his mouth. And, for some time, I have been telling him the same thing: “I can’t read your lips with that thing in your mouth!”
He does know some signs, and even as he tries to sign other things, he hasn’t quite mastered it yet. So for things he can’t sign, we rely on lipreading to understand what he is saying.
As often I have tried to get him to understand that I can’t read his lips when he talks to me with the binky, it really never got through to him, because he kept trying to talk to me with that binky in his mouth. I feel that, perhaps, tonight, I have finally made some progress.
After I gave Jesse his bath this evening, I had him on my bed, drying him off. He was trying to talk to me, but he had the binky in his mouth. (I had promised him he could have it back after his bath.) I stopped drying him off, got to his level, and explained in as simple language as I could that I needed to see his mouth when he is talking to me and his dad. I can’t understand him when he talks with the binky in his mouth. Gradually, I coaxed the binky out of his mouth and told him to tell me again what he said. He pointed at his leg then said that he has an owie. (He got a scratch on his leg last week and, ever since, it has been his cross to bear.) I acknowledged his owie and reminded him, as I had before, that it would go away. He got his binky back and I finished toweling him off then dressed him. After we brushed his teeth, he said goodnight to his big sister (who gets to stay up tonight because of no school tomorrow) and I put him to bed.
As I was saying goodnight to him, giving him hugs and kisses and telling him goodnight, he stood still in his crib, looked at me and said something.
“What?” I said. “I can’t read your lips with that thing in your mouth, Jesse.”
I tested his reaction as I gently pulled on the binky. He had no problem letting me remove it from his mouth. "What did you say?" I asked him. He looked at me and said, “I love you.”
I smiled. At least this was something he could sign, even with that thing in his mouth. I told him I love him, too, gave him an extra kiss then gave him back his binky. Then I reminded him that “I love you” is something he could sign. I showed him the sign for “I love you” and he did his best to sign it the normal way, not his way. But it’s close enough, and at least this way I get what he is saying whether or not I can lipread him.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Yakety-yak--ACK!
Normally, I am not a very talkative person. After I lost my hearing, my mom was afraid I'd lose my voice, too, so she was encouraging me to talk A LOT. And quite loud, in fact. And I guess being around so many people to actually talk to, I had no choice but to yak my head off every day. Ever since moving to Eugene, however, that has changed. Sure, I talked with the friends I had (emphasis on "had"), but it's not like we chattered away at all hours. Mostly, I was quiet. And I have grown quieter still, despite writing so much and being a virtual chatterbox on the World Wide Web.
But that's as far as it goes.
These days, I don't have friends to hang out with or family to talk to in person every day, so I really don't feel so compelled to talk so much. I guess I'm trying to salvage the kind of silence I could not have during my teen years. But because I have small children to care for, silence is darn near impossible. There are many times I have to talk with my children ... A LOT!
I suppose I should be grateful my kids want to engage in so much conversation with their parents so much (even the baby, who will be 3 in October). After all, they'll be teenagers before we know it, and they would rather talk with their friends instead of their parents. But all of this yakking can get frustrating, especially when I am trying to drive and I have to keep my eyes on the road and NOT on my daughter's face to read her lips. These are the times I'll announce "Driving!" when she tries to tell me something, and she'll know she'll have to wait until we get to a red light or when I can stop briefly to turn around and read her lips. (She is learning she can't take these small windows of time to sit there and go "uuummmmm....").
It's also frustrating when I just want to STOP talking so much. As it is, my throat hurts if I have to talk so much, even if I drink water while I am speaking. So sometimes, you know, I just have to tell the kids, "Give me 5 minutes of peace!" OR..."Eat your food and stop talking so much!"
This evening is a perfect example. At dinnertime, the kids just yakked and yakked. My husband and I are not big talkers when we sit down to eat, so both of us tend to get a bit rattled by the kids constantly getting our attention to tell us something or ask questions. Or, as often happens, to go over words in sign language. (And, yes, he does speak, just as I do.) At one point, I had to tell Jennifer to wait before telling me something YET AGAIN because I had to run to the baby, who was getting into something.
Then, when putting the baby to bed, we spent time together in his room as he pointed out things and I had to say what had to go to sleep now, because ALL of us had to go to sleep now. So I kept having to say "Caterpillar has to go sleepy...fan has to go sleepy....chair has to go sleepy....night light has to go sleepy....backpack has to go sleepy..." And just on and on.
Then, finally, after a while, my throat was hurting from talking so much, so I just calmly sat there nodding and saying "mm-hmm" every time he said something to me from his crib. (Heh. What if his baby talk translated to "Mom, there are aliens outside my window"?? Mm-hmm.)
Then Jennifer showed up, asking me to read them a story. I was tired, wanted to STOP talking, but how could I turn away a child who wants to be read to? So I read them a story. Afterwards, Jennifer went back to bed. Eventually, the baby fell asleep. And I could once again fall silent without any need to talk again.
At least....until tomorrow comes.
But that's as far as it goes.
These days, I don't have friends to hang out with or family to talk to in person every day, so I really don't feel so compelled to talk so much. I guess I'm trying to salvage the kind of silence I could not have during my teen years. But because I have small children to care for, silence is darn near impossible. There are many times I have to talk with my children ... A LOT!
I suppose I should be grateful my kids want to engage in so much conversation with their parents so much (even the baby, who will be 3 in October). After all, they'll be teenagers before we know it, and they would rather talk with their friends instead of their parents. But all of this yakking can get frustrating, especially when I am trying to drive and I have to keep my eyes on the road and NOT on my daughter's face to read her lips. These are the times I'll announce "Driving!" when she tries to tell me something, and she'll know she'll have to wait until we get to a red light or when I can stop briefly to turn around and read her lips. (She is learning she can't take these small windows of time to sit there and go "uuummmmm....").
It's also frustrating when I just want to STOP talking so much. As it is, my throat hurts if I have to talk so much, even if I drink water while I am speaking. So sometimes, you know, I just have to tell the kids, "Give me 5 minutes of peace!" OR..."Eat your food and stop talking so much!"
This evening is a perfect example. At dinnertime, the kids just yakked and yakked. My husband and I are not big talkers when we sit down to eat, so both of us tend to get a bit rattled by the kids constantly getting our attention to tell us something or ask questions. Or, as often happens, to go over words in sign language. (And, yes, he does speak, just as I do.) At one point, I had to tell Jennifer to wait before telling me something YET AGAIN because I had to run to the baby, who was getting into something.
Then, when putting the baby to bed, we spent time together in his room as he pointed out things and I had to say what had to go to sleep now, because ALL of us had to go to sleep now. So I kept having to say "Caterpillar has to go sleepy...fan has to go sleepy....chair has to go sleepy....night light has to go sleepy....backpack has to go sleepy..." And just on and on.
Then, finally, after a while, my throat was hurting from talking so much, so I just calmly sat there nodding and saying "mm-hmm" every time he said something to me from his crib. (Heh. What if his baby talk translated to "Mom, there are aliens outside my window"?? Mm-hmm.)
Then Jennifer showed up, asking me to read them a story. I was tired, wanted to STOP talking, but how could I turn away a child who wants to be read to? So I read them a story. Afterwards, Jennifer went back to bed. Eventually, the baby fell asleep. And I could once again fall silent without any need to talk again.
At least....until tomorrow comes.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Sleeping through the night
This blog post isn't about my baby sleeping through the night. He's 2 now, so that finally happened some months ago. This is about ME sleeping through the night.
Yep, you got that right. Me, his mother.
After Jesse started to figure out how to climb up on things, especially how to climb over things like the baby gate, that's when we his parents were put on full alert. No longer could we relax knowing a baby gate kept him from getting into the kitchen, because now he was climbing over that gate and getting into the kitchen!
But that's not the worst part.
The worst part is that he eventually figured out how to climb up on the desk chair by the front door...and unlatch the safety lock we have at the top of the door. This was there to prevent him from unlocking the front door (as he learned how to do) and running outside, quite possibly into the busy street that we live on.
As one might imagine, this caused some anxiety for me. It wasn't enough that I watched him like a hawk, even took him into the bathroom with me when I had to use the bathroom to avoid something terrible from happening to him. On a very deep level, I was terrified.
Terrified because what if he managed to get out through the door while we're sleeping?
In December, I was heartbroken and in tears after reading a news article of a 2-year-old boy dying from exposure in the freezing cold and snow after slipping out of his Minnesota grandparents' house on Christmas Eve, while everybody was sleeping. As saddened as I was by this news, I was also just as scared for Jesse, that he might end up having the same fate.
Meanwhile, I wasn't sleeping. Every night, I'd wake up every 2 or 3 hours abnd go check on the baby, just to make sure he was still asleep in his crib and okay. Apparently, I was so stressed out over this, I couldn't sleep through the whole night. On a subconscious level, I was worried about the baby wandering about the house and getting out through the front door.
I kept telling my husband that we had to do something about this. We went through a series of ideas to prevent Jesse from slipping through the front door while we slept (and I even considered sleeping on a hideaway bed in front of the front door!) and I wrote about all of that in my book on deaf parenting. We eventually found a solution, which my editor actually suggested (thank you, Liz!): A double-sided deadbolt lock. Sounded like a good idea and the next thing was to keep reminding hubby to pick one up.
Well, first my husband tried using a safety pin on the security lock that the baby figured out how to unlatch. But I guess he got tired of me waking him up so early in the morning to take the pin out, since I couldn't and I had to get the children out the door. He eventually got the deadbolt lock. When they were installed, on both front and back doors, and he showed me how to use it, I had to laugh at first. I suddenly saw myself as that mother in the movie, The Others, locking and unlocking a door she needed to go through as she went through the house.
But after I saw just how it worked in keeping the baby from unlocking the doors himself, I wasn't laughing anymore. It was like the clouds clearing from the sky and a chorus of angels singing, "Hallelujah!"
They worked. The deadbolt locks did the trick. No more worries of the baby getting out the doors while we slept or when no one noticed, because now those doors had locks on them he could NOT unlock! HOORAY!!
And for the first time in a long time, I finally got a good night's sleep. I hope there will be many more...if this insomnia I am just recently dealing with ever goes away. I guess sleep and I just don't mix.
But at least the baby won't be able to slip out the front door while we sleep anymore. wow, that felt so great to say. I want to say it again! The baby will NOT be able to slip out the front door while we are sleeping anymore.
As long as we keep that door locked. Always locked.
Yep, you got that right. Me, his mother.
After Jesse started to figure out how to climb up on things, especially how to climb over things like the baby gate, that's when we his parents were put on full alert. No longer could we relax knowing a baby gate kept him from getting into the kitchen, because now he was climbing over that gate and getting into the kitchen!
But that's not the worst part.
The worst part is that he eventually figured out how to climb up on the desk chair by the front door...and unlatch the safety lock we have at the top of the door. This was there to prevent him from unlocking the front door (as he learned how to do) and running outside, quite possibly into the busy street that we live on.
As one might imagine, this caused some anxiety for me. It wasn't enough that I watched him like a hawk, even took him into the bathroom with me when I had to use the bathroom to avoid something terrible from happening to him. On a very deep level, I was terrified.
Terrified because what if he managed to get out through the door while we're sleeping?
In December, I was heartbroken and in tears after reading a news article of a 2-year-old boy dying from exposure in the freezing cold and snow after slipping out of his Minnesota grandparents' house on Christmas Eve, while everybody was sleeping. As saddened as I was by this news, I was also just as scared for Jesse, that he might end up having the same fate.
Meanwhile, I wasn't sleeping. Every night, I'd wake up every 2 or 3 hours abnd go check on the baby, just to make sure he was still asleep in his crib and okay. Apparently, I was so stressed out over this, I couldn't sleep through the whole night. On a subconscious level, I was worried about the baby wandering about the house and getting out through the front door.
I kept telling my husband that we had to do something about this. We went through a series of ideas to prevent Jesse from slipping through the front door while we slept (and I even considered sleeping on a hideaway bed in front of the front door!) and I wrote about all of that in my book on deaf parenting. We eventually found a solution, which my editor actually suggested (thank you, Liz!): A double-sided deadbolt lock. Sounded like a good idea and the next thing was to keep reminding hubby to pick one up.
Well, first my husband tried using a safety pin on the security lock that the baby figured out how to unlatch. But I guess he got tired of me waking him up so early in the morning to take the pin out, since I couldn't and I had to get the children out the door. He eventually got the deadbolt lock. When they were installed, on both front and back doors, and he showed me how to use it, I had to laugh at first. I suddenly saw myself as that mother in the movie, The Others, locking and unlocking a door she needed to go through as she went through the house.
But after I saw just how it worked in keeping the baby from unlocking the doors himself, I wasn't laughing anymore. It was like the clouds clearing from the sky and a chorus of angels singing, "Hallelujah!"
They worked. The deadbolt locks did the trick. No more worries of the baby getting out the doors while we slept or when no one noticed, because now those doors had locks on them he could NOT unlock! HOORAY!!
And for the first time in a long time, I finally got a good night's sleep. I hope there will be many more...if this insomnia I am just recently dealing with ever goes away. I guess sleep and I just don't mix.
But at least the baby won't be able to slip out the front door while we sleep anymore. wow, that felt so great to say. I want to say it again! The baby will NOT be able to slip out the front door while we are sleeping anymore.
As long as we keep that door locked. Always locked.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Special moments
There are times when something special will happen in life and we just have to stop and think, Wow. Is this for real? Am I dreaming?
Every time I look at the baby, a part of me asks those questions. It's been over two years since I've given birth to Jesse, and even still, sometimes when I look at him, I can't help but think....Wow. Thank you, God, for blessing me with him.
Now, being 2, Jesse DOES have his moments. He'll throw tantrums. Make horrible diaper messes. Sometimes he won't sleep. Sometimes he'll spit out his milk or throw his food. And sometimes he'll throw things.
But through ALL of those downsides, I wouldn't trade the privilege of having him in our lives for anything. He still means the world to all of us. He's still special.
And there are special moments we'll get to have with him, too. Those little moments when he'll do something only a baby would do.
Like today, for example. I was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, when Jesse walked over to sit in the chair next to me. When I looked at him, he shrugged his shoulders. When I did the same thing, he threw his little head back with a big laugh. Then he shrugged again, I shrugged again, and more laughter came out of his mouth. He thought the whole act of shrugging shoulders was just hilarious.
And then there was the time I was pushing him in the baby swing at the park. He LOVED it. It was like it was just me and him, no troubles in the world, as I pushed him in the swing and he sat there so peacefully and so content.
And sometimes he'll climb into my lap and give me a kiss or a hug and, if I'm lucky, he'll lie against my chest, put his little head on my shoulder, and I could just hold him in my arms or rock him in a chair.
There are some things he will do that I could just spend hours watching. In the bathtub, he has these little cups and he'll take turns switching the water from cup to cup, just contentedly busying himself pouring the water back and forth. Sometimes he'll sit on the floor and play with his toy cars (he LOVES cars!). Or he'll hold a small mirror in his tiny hands and just stare at his reflection, moving the mirror really close as he examines that face he sees in it then really far away to get a full view.
I am beginning to think he understands his parents are deaf. Today, for example, he went to where his father sat at the desk, patted his arm to get his attention, then "signed" to him. At least, he TRIED to sign! It was cute to watch him. He has been doing that a lot, trying to sign to us. We have not used home signs with him, just regular ASL. But he uses signs that are not real signs, not even for home signs. He'll also flash the room light or stomp his foot to get our attention.
There is just so much about Jesse that I cherish, despite the fatigue and trying times. I am just so very, very grateful he is in our lives. He's an adorable baby (in MY opinion) and so smart and so sweet. Sometimes I think I'm going to wake up from this wonderful dream, and he won't be there. My heart sinks at that very thought. So many times Jennifer tells me how much she loves her brother (she even has a shirt that says "I love Baby J"!) and I'm glad she's extremely protective of him, even with us. She is a good big sister and he's lucky to have such a wonderful and protective sister.
Well, we are lucky to have him, too.
I cherish him every single day, and I cherish those special moments that he and I get to share even more.
Every time I look at the baby, a part of me asks those questions. It's been over two years since I've given birth to Jesse, and even still, sometimes when I look at him, I can't help but think....Wow. Thank you, God, for blessing me with him.
Now, being 2, Jesse DOES have his moments. He'll throw tantrums. Make horrible diaper messes. Sometimes he won't sleep. Sometimes he'll spit out his milk or throw his food. And sometimes he'll throw things.
But through ALL of those downsides, I wouldn't trade the privilege of having him in our lives for anything. He still means the world to all of us. He's still special.
And there are special moments we'll get to have with him, too. Those little moments when he'll do something only a baby would do.
Like today, for example. I was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, when Jesse walked over to sit in the chair next to me. When I looked at him, he shrugged his shoulders. When I did the same thing, he threw his little head back with a big laugh. Then he shrugged again, I shrugged again, and more laughter came out of his mouth. He thought the whole act of shrugging shoulders was just hilarious.
And then there was the time I was pushing him in the baby swing at the park. He LOVED it. It was like it was just me and him, no troubles in the world, as I pushed him in the swing and he sat there so peacefully and so content.
And sometimes he'll climb into my lap and give me a kiss or a hug and, if I'm lucky, he'll lie against my chest, put his little head on my shoulder, and I could just hold him in my arms or rock him in a chair.
There are some things he will do that I could just spend hours watching. In the bathtub, he has these little cups and he'll take turns switching the water from cup to cup, just contentedly busying himself pouring the water back and forth. Sometimes he'll sit on the floor and play with his toy cars (he LOVES cars!). Or he'll hold a small mirror in his tiny hands and just stare at his reflection, moving the mirror really close as he examines that face he sees in it then really far away to get a full view.
I am beginning to think he understands his parents are deaf. Today, for example, he went to where his father sat at the desk, patted his arm to get his attention, then "signed" to him. At least, he TRIED to sign! It was cute to watch him. He has been doing that a lot, trying to sign to us. We have not used home signs with him, just regular ASL. But he uses signs that are not real signs, not even for home signs. He'll also flash the room light or stomp his foot to get our attention.
There is just so much about Jesse that I cherish, despite the fatigue and trying times. I am just so very, very grateful he is in our lives. He's an adorable baby (in MY opinion) and so smart and so sweet. Sometimes I think I'm going to wake up from this wonderful dream, and he won't be there. My heart sinks at that very thought. So many times Jennifer tells me how much she loves her brother (she even has a shirt that says "I love Baby J"!) and I'm glad she's extremely protective of him, even with us. She is a good big sister and he's lucky to have such a wonderful and protective sister.
Well, we are lucky to have him, too.
I cherish him every single day, and I cherish those special moments that he and I get to share even more.
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