From the Mouth of my Babes

This morning, dark and early, Jdog decided to have a little talk with his bassinet. His scratching noises woke me—he loves examining the holey texture of his port-a-crib’s restraining walls. But I didn’t immediately swoop him up to lie beside me. I waited, listening to the other, subtle, nearly indistinguishable sounds slipping out of his mouth. “-c-c-c-c-c-c-c” he said ever so softly. Then he started to shake things up a but, adding, “t-t-t-kh-kh-kh-sssss” to the mix. His little sounds were so quiet I felt like I was eavesdropping on a top secret conversation.

My heart smiled as I listened to his little voice. Baby J has been such a quiet chap I would be worried he had hearing loss if we hadn’t had such thorough tests to confirm that his hearing has not (yet) followed in the footsteps of his big brother. Most likely it won’t, but we still need an MRI to screen for the Large Vestibular Aqueducts Atrain has. My mind rewound to memories of Atrain’s first noises; they were so different—loud, chesty, palpable sounds. We would cheer and applaud with every single peep.

Now here I lie, listening to Jdog speak sounds that Atrain would never have been able to hear without cochlear implants: so effortless. It makes me simultaneously happy and sad, even though I know it might be unfair. I’m happy that Jdog can hear, and that he’ll never understand how hard Atrain worked for a couple of years to secure those soft little noises in his repertoire. Everything is and will always be that much harder for him—which makes me sad, even though it shouldn’t. Little Atrain has already proven how resilient and determined he is. I know he can take whatever this world will dish out at him. And he has a sweet, adoring brother to buffer him from the blows.

It’s now when I think about how much God is watching out for our family: late at night when I’m wondering what’s in store for these little boys. It’s now, in the quiet hours of the morning when I can hear and see so clearly how much God loves them. It’s now when I’m reminded that one of my most important jobs is to help my boys feel, understand and remember that love.