Tuesday, 7 July 2015

My Mommy's Ears Don't Work

An imaginary poem - what my little girl might be thinking of me. In recent days she's been looking at my ears and actually saying "Hearing Aid" (I can't quite get her to say cochlear implant just yet, even though she knows what it is). I think, at 19 months she finally gets it that my ears just don't work.

My mommy's ears don't work
I have to wait until she can hear me
With her cochlear implant
She lives in a world of silence
While I live in a world of sound
When she wakes up
I know, somehow, that she can't hear me
It doesn't matter
All I know is that she loves me
And I love her back
I look at her hearing aids
And wonder why I don't have one
My mommy tells me I don't need it
She tells me that I'm lucky
To be able to hear, to understand
But I want to look like mommy
I think her cochlear implant looks cool (and her earrings too)
Even though it's not to play with
My mommy's ears don't work
The same way as mine do
She hears things differently
And I have to speak clearly
 Repeat often
Otherwise I won't get what I want (or need)
My eyes and mouth always connect
With my mommy's eyes and mouth
Face to face
Mommy's eyes are glued to my mouth
Making sure she understands
My eyes are glued to her face
Making sure she doesn't furrow her brows
Out of confusion
All I know is that at the end of the day
When we cuddle
The touch, understanding, and knowing
That we love each other
Is all that matters
Even if we don't hear the same way

Now, that's my first-ever online attempt at poetry. I'm no natural, but it sounds beautiful to me.
High fives all around! (and this picture is from oh-so-long ago... but you can see my CI here too!)

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