Paul Williams shares his journey as a parent after discovering his baby Audrey was deaf
Audrey Williams, with mum Alexandra, when her cochlear implants were switched on. Picture: Annette Dew Source: The Courier-Mail
My wife Alexandra and I struggled to deal with our baby's deafness, discovered resilience, and found delight through technology, writes Paul Williams
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ASKED to describe my nine-month-old daughter Audrey, I'd probably say she has blue eyes, loves moo-cows and has an irresistible giggle.
Rarely, if ever, would I begin with the fact she was born profoundly deaf.
The point is my wife Alexandra and I don't see any of these traits as especially significant. Audrey is our child, not our "deaf child".
Yet, if I'm honest, I haven't always felt that way, and the journey since Audrey's birth has seen plenty of tears as well as lots of joy.
When Audrey, at a few days of age, failed her first in-hospital auditory screening, we were told not to worry. It was probably post-natal congestion.
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Baby Audrey switches on to words of love
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When she failed her second test, we were nervously referred to an audiologist for comprehensive examination. Even then, we walked into the clinic in an air of denial. After all, how could anything be wrong with our pink and perfectly formed cherub?
But my wife and I wept like banshees when, within minutes, the audiologist declared our three-week-old baby - the new centre of our emotional gravity - so profoundly deaf that she couldn't hear a motorcycle roar behind her.
The word "disabled" passed no one's lips, but it still rose like panic in my throat. Numbness and tears stung my face and the proud shine of new parenthood seemed to dim. And I felt a little ashamed that I should feel that way.
For months we told no one but immediate family. Friends and work colleagues asked of our little girl, but we couldn't bring ourselves to share the grief and anger that sat heavily in our hearts.
If we feared the raw pain of recounting the details yet again, we feared even more the pity offered by the well-intentioned. I don't think I could have coped with another "How awful for you".
There's nothing "awful" about our daughter.
Waves of dismay continued to wash over us as we looked for a cause for her deafness. We submitted this tiny baby to painful blood tests and expensive DNA testing. And still there was no answer. With no virus or parental gene to blame, it was, as they say, a lightning strike.
Yet that only heightened my rage. Why us? Is a hearing child too much to ask for?
But the dark hours were short-lived. Before long, we'd discarded the self-pity and focused on Audrey, her seemingly endless round of medical appointments and even audio-verbal therapy through the wonderful Hear and Say Centre.
Our reality check came more easily as parents of deaf children offered practical advice and genuine empathy. Cochlear implants promised a light at the end of a very long tunnel, and we knew we'd meet our challenge. Amazingly, Audrey will soon develop speech indistinguishable from a hearing child.
Part of this journey has also taught us about "deaf culture" where "deaf" identity is integral to how many hearing-impaired folk define themselves.
I very much respect that and we want Audrey to have the choice of two worlds - the hearing and the silent - that she can enter and exit as she chooses.
I spoke to Gympie MP David Gibson last week about this very topic. Gibson, a director of Deaf Services Queensland, is the son of deaf parents. He rightly noted that Audrey would never be a hearing person in the traditional sense. When Audrey removes her devices to sleep, bathe or swim, she will again enter a soundless world.
The challenge, then, is for each of us to remain sensitive to hearing-impaired needs. How, for example, might an unaided deaf person feel when the punchline of a joke is delivered? How can they be sure the laughter is not directed at them?
In recognition of this, Question Time in State Parliament will today be translated into sign language. It's a powerful statement that no one need be politically disengaged.
Last Thursday, Audrey passed a major life milestone. Exactly two weeks after surgery, our little girl's cochlear implants were "switched on" to hear her parents' voices for the very first time. The tears flowed as liberally as the champagne.
Thanks to the innovation of brilliant Australian Professor Graeme Clark, Audrey has a lifetime of listening ahead of her.
