Today, Ezra will have the 7th surgery in his young life, a cochlear implant.
As I was silently mourning the loss of his natural hearing--I allowed myself to imagine Ezra never hearing my true voice or his father's or his brother's after this day. After some tears and deep breaths I thought about what brought us to this decision. I remembered that 7 months ago Ezra couldn't hear anything. And that over these last 7 months Ezra has worn a hearing aid all waking hours. And, although he clearly hears more noise with his hearing aid, it is not enough to imitate speech (which we would have expected by now). I'm not certain what Ezra does hear, but it is certainly not what I do and now, with the aid of technology, what he will hear is going to be different, but clearer. We are confident that the path of a cochlear implant will be Ezra's best chance for learning language. Sometimes I need to allow myself moments of maternal anguish in order to make peace and move forward. Like the sun setting over one landscape in order to bring light to a new day.
Ezra, we are so optimistic this will enrich your life. And, even though we have said the words a thousand times, we hope that this surgery will be the beginning of hearing how much we love you.


























































