While I firmly believe in the ability for deaf parents to be good parents and raise healthy children, life as a deaf parent is not without its scary moments. One came when my son was just 3.

We were living in a small cottage isolated on a mountainside in the hills of Fairfax, north of San Francisco. Our cottage was so small that we had to share a bedroom with our son downstairs. My husband was away at work. I had just put my son down in his own bed for his nap and crawled into my bed nearby to catch a few winks as well…

We had done this before. I would close my eyes for about 20 minutes after my son had fallen asleep. I would usually wake before he did, and if by chance he woke first, he would come right to me and wake me up. I practically slept with one eye open during those early years anyway.

Well, I guess my son woke up before I did. He might have looked over at my bed, but he didn’t see me. I must have been buried under the covers. So, he got up to look for me. Then something woke me up with a start. It happens to all parents. We suddenly know something is not right and we need to check on our children. It’s that inner knowing.

I popped up in my bed and noticed my son’s bed was empty. I shot up the stairs calling out to him. I looked everywhere in our cottage, but my son wasn’t there! Then I saw the front door open and I rushed outside, calling out his name in hopes that he would hear me and come to me. I was frantic with worry!

Then suddenly, I saw the little old lady who lived across the street from us come down her tall driveway on the hill. She seemed to be looking at something in front of our cottage. It was my son. I could not see him as the fence was too tall, but I knew she must be looking at him. There I found him standing in the middle of the mountain road crying out, “Maaaammmaaaa! Maaaammmaaaa!” My heart just about stopped!

I rushed over to him reassuring him that I was there and that he was ok. I scooped him up out of the road and rushed him inside, waving to the lady across the street who stood with her arms folded across her apron. Little did she know that she was a guardian angel that day. (I believe I have been given a number of guardian angels as a deaf mom.)

I rarely left my son out of my sight from then on. Call me over-protective if you will, but my child stayed safe after that! A friend of mine at work helped me deal with my guilt by telling me a story of a time when she put all the baby’s things in her car – the diaper bag, the bottles, the blanket and the car seat, and drove off to take him to day care only to discover that she left the baby at home! Eeek! She isn’t a deaf parent. She just goofed. She assured me that we all make mistakes big and small, and that it doesn’t always have to do with being deaf. In a strange way, her story did console me. Parenting, whether you are deaf or hearing, is about accepting and dealing with both the awe and the awful.

Ahhh… but as a deaf parent, there are inspirational moments as well. I remember one involving my hearing son and his deep awareness of my deafness. We were once sitting together as a family watching the Riverdance program on PBS. I loved watching the Irish dancers and could follow the rhythm by watching their feet.

As a woman played a Celtic melody on a wooden flute while two dancers shuffled lightly about her, my husband made a comment about how beautiful and mesmerizing the flute music was, and how he wished I could hear it. My son, who was about 7 then, was sitting next to me as his father spoke.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my son look up at me a few times, and then turn back to look at the TV. Then slowly, he raised his hands to his own ears and stuck his fingers in them. Then he turned to watch the TV in muted silence. I stuck my face into his view and asked him what he was doing. With eyes full of compassion he said, “Mama, if you can’t hear it, I don’t want to hear it either.”

My heart swelled. Trying to hide the quiver in my voice, I said, “Oh honey, it’s okay. Mama listens to things differently. I see the lady’s fingers on the flute holes. I watch her chest rise and fall as she puffs out the notes. I can see the rhythm of the dancers feet. And more importantly, I see the look on yours and Papa’s faces when the lady plays her flute. That’s how I know it is a beautiful, breathtaking song. I want you to be my ears. I will listen to the music through you and Papa.”

Paul’s eyes were full of wonder. He lifted my hair, kissed one of my ears, and then turned back to watch the TV while he snuggled me up close. I continued to watch the program with tears in my eyes.

The best thing about being a deaf mom is looking into my son’s eyes and discovering the simple goodness, the compassion and the divine presence that lies deep within those chocolatey-brown orbs. It’s like God looking right back at me, affirming that I am capable, needed, and so very loved.

The challenges of parenting, whether they are awful or full of awe, are true opportunities for spiritual growth. In many ways, my son is my church. I learn and relearn and grow from every encounter I have with him.

Heaven on earth is watching our children laugh, play, cry, reach out, forgive, learn and grow. I am reminded daily of what a blessing it is to be a parent, and my heart is full.

Posted by LaRonda on Saturday, February 17th, 2007 at 4:34 pm.