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Welcome to my little corner of the ether. This is where you will find information about my books and musings on life and love in New York City. To stay in the loop about all things ADR...


Listen to Life

A baby is born. And she is beautiful.

She is a good size. She is screaming. Pink. Perfect.

9/9 Apgar.

A text is sent: She is here!

Time passes. Moments. Minutes.

Another text: Something's not right with her ears.

Four days pass and no one knows. Can she hear now? Will she ever hear? Will she hear her mother's words, her father's jokes, her big brother's music? Will she hear the world?

An appointment. A test. Results. Her inner ear is good. She can hear some. She will hear more.

There is a diagnosis. Foreign words, fancy words. Bilateral Microtia. Atresia.

Chances? Something like 1/26,000. There is no known cause.

There will be surgeries. There will be struggles. There will be snuggles.

There is a headband. Two tiny boxes. Boxes that vibrate, boxes that allow her to hear it all. Her mother's words, her father's jokes, her brother's music, the world.

It's a new road. And this little girl will walk it. Her parents and brother will walk it. We will walk it with them.

There have been tears. There have been fears. There will be more of these things.

But there has been learning. And loving. Fierce loving. More of it than you can imagine.

This is life. And she will listen to it. And they will.

And we will. I will.

And it will be a privilege, a different kind of privilege, to do so.

A baby is born. And she is beautiful.

She is a good size. She is screaming.




I asked C if she wanted to write something. Something that I would post here. And she said yes, she would like that. But earlier this week - as we exchanged a series of absolutely wonderful and real late-night emails - C wrote the following words, words she said I could include here:

I think I will write about this, it's just a matter of when. I've sat down and tried a few times, but it didn't work, and I was jolted back to college to the moments when I would try to write a paper before I was really ready. I've always needed to think, reflect, process before I write - and then writing helps me sort through all of that thinking to crystallize how I feel and what I really think. So I'll do it, I just don't know when. And I know it doesn't have to be just once, but something about all of this is tugging at me like there's something really profound lurking in there - about what this means for us, for her, for who she'll be - but it's going to take time (and clarity and sleep - not in that order) to tease it out.


It goes without saying that it's been an eye-opening seven weeks for Sister C and her family. C asked that I go ahead and write something here today, something small, something true. Baby Sister - as her big brother so proudly calls her - is doing well and thriving -- and with her bi-weekly speech therapy sessions already in place -- might even bypass her mommy in smarts - if that is even possible. On behalf of C, her family, and our family, thanks to all of you for your love and support.

Thank you, most of all, for listening.


For other 5 for 5 writing on LISTENING, please click here.

I am also honored to be linking up here for Six Word Fridays.

Do you have any personal experience with Microtia/Atresia or related conditions? Have you weathered any health issues with your children? Any recent reminders to stop and just listen to life?

Screen by Screen

Half His Age