can he hear me now?

Nathan’s audiologist appointment was not at all as terrifying as I had imagined.

I had been waking up several times a night, partly because The Late Talker says that if you delay intervention, your child will eventually kill you. Though there’s no direct speech-development and matricide connection, the first few chapters discuss how late talkers can’t communicate and therefore will become juvenile delinquents which will result in my inevitable death. Nathan will probably give me a fatal heart attack by saying, “I don’t think The Office is all that funny,” or worse, “I’ve decided to go to Washington State University.”

This is why I don’t read parenting books.

I also haven’t been sleeping well because Nathan’s teething again. Whenever I asked him, “Nathan, how long are you going to cry tonight,” he’d get all Lionel Ritchie on me, saying, “ALL NIGHT LONG! I’LL CRY! ALL NIGHT!” Hello insomnia, indeed.

My fear was that I would say something like, “So does this mean he’ll never get into MENSA?” and they would laugh back, “MENSA?!?! He’ll be more likely to contract MRSA!”

But the audiologist and her assistant were very sweet with Nathan and played with him, cooing in high-pitched voices. Nathan flirted with the women, flashing them a deep-dimpled smile.

We sat in a small sound booth, a smaller version of the one Lionel Ritchie probably used to record that godawful song. They checked his ear for fluids and then stuck earbuds in to test his reflexes. He began wriggling and screaming while I held him down. He shot me a red-faced look, like, “Et tu, mother?” These are the times I’d rather be doing anything else other than restraining my child, like chewing tin foil or using YouTube to show everyone how I always play air guitar at the beginning of CSI Miami.

I tried to nurse him, but it was more like I was plugging up his mouth with my saggy boob and instead of latching on, he cried around my boob, like, “Why on earth would you think that this meat sock would make a difference?”

Once they were done with the earbud testing, they left the sound booth and sat on the other side of the glass window. Two corners of the room had a speaker and a black tinted box. The audiologist spoke into the microphone and Nathan’s head turned towards the speaker. Then the black box lit up and inside a teddy bear played the drums and Nathan’s head turned again. I was so glad it was a teddy bear with drums and not that evil monkey with the cymbals, though that would have been much more exciting. This continued for a few minutes, with the audiologist varying the volumes, practically whispering toward the end.

The two women walked back into the room and the audiologist told me that Nathan’s hearing was sufficient for speech development. Meaning, it’s not his hearing.

But I already knew this. So this is where we are now. My son, babbling mama and dada and me, waiting and waiting.

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  1. Every time I hear someone say The Office isn’t funny, I die a little inside.

    I’m glad his hearing is good. Which you already knew. Obv. They wanted to test AD for hearing too after all of her ear infections, but that seems like the kind of thing that wouldn’t get past the parents, you know? Ahh, what do I know (NOTHING).

  2. So glad his hearing is good. I’m sure all is well with him. He’s a wonderful little boy.

  3. First, don’t be hatin on Lionel!!
    Secondly, I’m glad everything’s ok w/ Nathan. He’s so freaking cute. Like, RIDICULOUSLY so. I love it!

  4. Very funny post…but also real stuff that I’m sorry you have to worry about.

    p.s. I’m still cringing thinking about tin foil.

  5. You are handling this uncertainty with humour and grace.

    I don’t know how old your Nathan is, but my Nathan (and Graham too) did not have many words until they were about 2 1/2.

    Now I cannot shut them up 🙂

  6. lauralaylin says:

    So what is the next step? I’m glad that at least his hearing is okay.

  7. “I tried to nurse him, but it was more like I was plugging up his mouth with my saggy boob and instead of latching on, he cried around my boob, like, “Why on earth would you think that this meat sock would make a difference?”

    Ok this shouldn’t have made me laugh until I almost wet myself but it totally did.

    *wipes a tear*

    Ok, but now what’s next for that precious little boy?

  8. My best friend went through this with her daughter. It was awful waiting and waiting. When it was finally over, she scored a pair of kickin’ pink hearing aids, which she loves.

  9. This is so funny. I don’t read parenting books anymore either. They FREAK ME OUT.

  10. Butrfly Garden says:

    I can see the suspense in his face.

    I have a whole Mona book to read. I say the same to you as I said to my new trainee: “Quit working so damn hard! You trying to make the rest of us look bad!?”

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