I just spent the morning with little M, my spiritual mentor's best friend's daughter and she is Deaf. And I had a lunch of bread, cheese and chocolate cake (Mazel Tov Jeremy on your graduation from Seminary!!)... just had to add that in there. The chocolate cake too...
First off, I adore this family. The mama is an artist and the papa is a Pastor. They live in the Bay area, woohoo! Second, I am near fluent in American Sign Language. Third: little M has a cochlear implant.
For those that don't know, this is a device that is surgically implanted into a deaf person's ear, more specifically their cochlea. The science is pretty complicated, but ultimately these magnetic things send charges to cause the little hairs which determine our hearing to vibrate and create sound.
She is about 13 months old.
In the Deaf community, this topic is outrageously debated, almost to the point of idiocy. I have experienced some people losing friendships over it and can be quite devastating, as all conflicts can be. Some people believe that Deafness is not a disability and therefore doesn't need to be fixed. They celebrate their Deafness, and urge others to do the same. Other people mourn the hearing loss of their child, or friend because they will have no interaction with music and other sounds of pleasure. To never have had lived without sound, most people take it for granted. The family of little M were the latter. And even though some of my closest friends are Deaf, and I probably wouldn't personally give my Deaf child the implant, I completely respect their family's choice. I believe that they prayed about it and decided that what was right for their family structure was for her to have the implant. And I support that decision, because there isn't direct harm to me, her parents chose this out of love for their daughter and I will support and cherish little M, implant or not.
Hanging out with little M today was one of the most amazing babysitting experiences I have ever had. Mama wrote out perfect instructions and little M and I played in the grass, took naps, ate(a LOT: quesadilla's, carrots, grapes and chicken) and had a pretty rad "change of the diaper" escapade. I wish it had been videotaped. She was crying because half of her implant magnet thingy had fallen off, and I have never changed with clothe diapers before. I tried to tickle and coo, and she wouldn't have it. I opened up the neatly packed diaper and lo and behold. Fresh carrot-poo. Good times, to say the least. It's in moments like those when I could tell you then and there that kids are just not for me. But then when I walked into her room after her second, 2 hour nap, she looked at me (without her aids in, so she was completely deaf) and she smiled and held her arms out for me to hold her. In times like those, I would gladly mother twelve children!
Spending eight hours with a Deaf child made me realize that I am too deaf. I am deaf to the wind that kisses my cheek almost every day. To the words of wisdom of my parents; I am so over them. But it is no excuse to ignore them. I am deaf to warning signs like, oh maybe, it is life threatening and unhealthy, you might get pregnant, you could die, get jailed, or fined and it is causing the people who look up to you to be dissolutioned with reality and following G-d. I am deaf to G-d's own voice. And I know it is there. I've heard it before.
When little M awoke from her first nap, she was crying for some reason or another and I couldn't seem to settle her down (not with food, smiles or dance) so we went to the backyard and sat on one of the chairs. We just sat there. Her deaf little self was quiet. She was staring off into the sky and being. I felt the wind caress both our bodies. And I felt little M shiver. She sighed and turner her chubby little body to me.
I felt G-d.
And from a thirteen or so month old to teach me that one of the best ways to listen, is to sit in quietness. Turn my deafness towards evil, so that I can more fully concentrate on the beauty and peace from Yeshua. She sat there, not being distracted by the chirping of birds, or airplane jets, or the neighbor who was barbecuing, or anything else. She just sat and saw what she saw and was satisfied.
2 comments:
yes. beautiful malka- love this.
and i should add that as you allude to the decision making aspect of deciding to get implants for her...yes- such a hard hard decision. i think ultimately what pushed us to implants was that our highest value (or one of them) in raising a child is them having a community raising them, not just us. logistically it would have been very hard to encourage so many very important people to us to learn enough asl to have quality and in depth conversations of meaning and importance with her as she grows up. one of the things i struggle with right now is the push i feel now, while her language aqcuistion (verbal/spoken) is elastic, to get spoken language into her. i feel like signing and learning sign becomes a lower priority. all around it is a wrestling game, and we revisit it often philosophically. but i am often reminded of the gift that there is in the silence when she has such joy whether her implants are on or not.
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