Cary's hearing issues revisited (plus a bit on Clair)

Yesterday, I took Cary to a hearing assessment center, because Lester and I had been having some lingering feelings about Cary's hearing.

The bad news: Cary does have some "reduced" hearing, the doctor said.
It is likely caused by fluid that remains in his ears, unable to drain for some reason. The doctor said, for Cary, it's like going through life with his fingers stuck in his ears. He can hear, but it's muffled, or not as clear as it could be. The fluid can and does shift, most likely, which would explain why sometimes he can hear us just fine, and other times it's like he's wearing Beats by Dre' headphones.

The good news: This is not a permanent condition. This has not had any effect on Cary's verbal or cognitive abilities (which the doctor called "quite good.") So this has likely not been going on for very long. And this is something that is common in children his age, and easily treatable.

We have an appointment next week with a pediatric ENT who will be able to establish with more certainty just exactly what is going on with Cary, and give us recommendations to fix the problem. The doctor we saw yesterday said he can imagine a range of solutions, from prescription decongestants to surgically-implanted tubes.

Those who know me will be so proud to know that I have not spent ridiculous hours reading everything ever written about fluid in the ears, tubes, "reduced hearing," or any key words that would send me down the rabbit hole of worry/anxiety.

Instead, I took Cary out to Friendly's for ice cream and had one of the best lunches of my life just sitting and talking to my sweetie, who -- freed of his extrovert attention-grabbing brother -- was charming and peppy, waving at customers and brightly chirping "Hi!" "Hello!" "Oh, hi!" to servers as they walked by.

And Les and I will just wait to hear what the ENT says -- in conjunction with our pediatrician -- and make decisions when we have all the information we need. In the meantime, we know our baby is just fine. So there's no need to worry. (This kind of attitude is so freeing! Is this the 40 talking?? If so, I like it!)

In bed last night, I prayed to God, my heart filled with gratefulness that Cary is as OK as he is. And that all our children are extremely healthy. I know this is not a given, and that many, many amazing parents are dealing with frightening and unthinkable health concerns with their kids. Fluid on the ears makes me a little sad for Cary (who wants to go through life with your fingers in your ears?) but I know that there are FAR worse things. And again I say, we know our baby will be just fine.

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Meanwhile, we took Clair in for her 15-month-checkup today and here are her stats:

Weight: 20 lbs., 14 oz. (She lost weight during that horrible pneumonia and is just starting to put it back on.)
Height: 20 and 1/4 inches

(Note: My sister points out that there is no way Clair can be 20 inches, as some babies are BORN longer than that. I'll have to check on this.)

She is doing exceedingly well development-wise. She is bright and energetic, has great receptive language (she told Dr. Bodnar to "shhh!" when he said something about quiet) and is, in Dr. Bodnar's words "a beautiful child, and I don't just mean physically."

I couldn't agree more!

Don't you love a little girl in jellies?

Don't worry about things until there's actually something to worry about

This is what I keep telling myself.

Tanika, don't worry about things until there's actually something to worry about.

But it's difficult when that "thing" you're trying not to worry about is your son, who for the past couple months, has been exhibiting signs that he is having trouble hearing.

It started around Christmas, the troubling signs. And we eventually discovered he had a double ear infection and a popped eardrum. Strong antibiotics and ear drops seemed to have done the trick, though, because at his follow-up, our doctor said everything looked perfect.

But since then the signs persist.

The most obvious one is that he tells us directly, "I can't hear you," when we're talking in our normal voices. His little brow furrows and his voice sounds small. "Mommy, what'd you say? I can't hear you."

I can see him sometimes trying to decipher what I've said by watching my lips. "Do you want macaroni and cheese?" I asked him once, looking directly at him on the changing table. "Hmmm?" he said, studying my mouth. "You said, 'music class?'"

In the past week, it's gotten worse, and Lester and I have tried all the "tricks" to see if he's exaggerating a bit, or working us to avoid having to pick up the Legos. All the experiments turn out the same: He can sometimes hear me, especially if I speak in an elevated voice and he's expecting the conversation. He has less trouble hearing Lester, but there are times when even his Dad's booming voice seems lost to him.
 
Lester picked Cary up on Sunday and kissed his face. "Why do you keep saying you can't hear us, buddy?" he asked Cary in a gentle voice.

"Because," Cary responded, smiling. "Because you all keep talking softly."

Tears stung the backs of my eyes. I felt like I swallowed an apple. We're not "talking softly" in our house -- almost ever. This is one of the loudest houses on Earth.

The final straw was this experiment -- one of many, many similar ones I've tried: I stood behind him, about 3 feet away, and asked, in a somewhat quiet, but not a whispering, tone, "Cary, how about we go downstairs and get some ice cream?" He didn't respond. I tried again in a normal tone. He didn't respond. So I added in "cookies" to the treats he could have if he would just turn around and answer. He just played with his train, whirring it along my bed. Still in a normal tone, I upped the ante:
"Cary! Cookie Hood is here! He's downstairs eating cookies! Let's go see him and get some cookies!" (He is obsessed with Cookie Hood, so I just knew he'd hear that).

From the next room, Dean said, "Cookies?!" Cary still didn't move.

I went in the bathroom, put my head on Lester's chest, and cried.

The thought that my smart, silly, sweet little boy seems to have trouble hearing -- especially hearing me  -- breaks my heart so much I can't even tell you.

I'm not sure what exactly is going on, and I've spent FAR too much time on the Internet reading about all sorts of scary things I wish I never knew. But we're going to get to the bottom of it. I wanted to just get a referral to take him to the audiology center where his hearing was tested as a baby, but our doctor said he should see him first. I think this is a waste of time, as he's already seen him -- declared his ears "perfect" -- and sent us home. Something isn't right and I know it. And I am not good at being patient when it comes to things like this.

But we will take him back to the doctor tomorrow afternoon and see what he says.

Until then, I will try not to worry about things until there's actually something to worry about. :-(

My little Cary, doing his favorite thing  (listen to that sweet little cartoon voice):