My Son's Future Arrived in the Mail Today

Parker's new cochlear implant arrived in the mail this morning at 9:12. Luckily I was just returning from dropping the 5 lil ones at their respective learning locations and was folding up my massive double stroller outside our apartment when I saw him spritely arrive....

THE UPS GUY.

I wanted to hug him!

And he had the most gentle, crystal blue eyes.

I didn't of course.

Maybe if we were in the States I could do that. Or not, actually, maybe he'd sue me if I did that in the States... But in any rate, I restrained myself.

This, after already getting lots of strange smirks to-ing and from-ming from school with my hair in plaits. About 8 I think. Grown women are not meant to wear braids in public, ya know. At least not in Paris. ESPECIALLY not in Paris. And all my chic neighborhood parental comrades were dropping off their equally chic offspring at their chic parisian schools as we marched our own ways... And most couldn't help but stare and smile at my braids and bright yellow stroller, and my multiple offspring (come on, you have to admit, 5 is REALLY not all that many...)in tow. So I was feeling especially unique (why?), and a little bit fun this morning. It's amazing that I was here when he came. I am not always that efficient in my timing of things. As those who know me well will attest to, hands down. (My name in french sign language means "LATE"--its kinda rude, right? But was given to me by my classmates in LSF class. I have to admit, it's a propos.)

So anyway, this is NOT AT ALL ABOUT ME.

IT'S ABOUT THE BOX. IT'S ABOUT THE PACKAGE. IT'S ABOUT WHAT'S INSIDE THE BOX.

I can't help but think of John trying to teach me what a "function" was in Calculus in college. He said repeatedly, "A function is like a box. You have something and you put it in the box. When it comes out of the box, it's actually something different. It's changed." Honestly I did not get it at all. Somehow I got a B+ in that calculus class (thank goodness for take-home exams and group finals!). But I think I might get it now.

What went into this box is a lot of plastic and design, hours and years of research,and trial and error---lots of accessories, cords and even some fancy, flesh-colored magnets and a very special minuscule computer that is totally blank.

What will come out of this box later today is the same thing. But we will quickly connect it to the ORL computer at Necker and give Parker some new programs.

What will come out of this box is my son's hearing.

My deaf son's hearing.

It's magic, right?

It's no doubt the BEST thing we'll get in the mail ALL YEAR!

This box is unbelievably noteworthy. This box has my son's future inside of it.

It might as well be covered in sparkles and fairy dust. Maybe I will put some sparkles on it and show the girls at lunchtime.




And I should quote someone who has a cochlear implant--a man named Michael Chorost, who went totally deaf in a matter of hours at the age of 36, then wrote a book titled Rebuilt: How Becoming Part Computer Made me More Human---(beware, it's very technical!)

"The cochlea has three mechanisms for converting sound into nerve impulses, called rate coding, place coding and phase coding. Place coding happens to be the easiest to replicate with a string of implanted electrodes, because from a place coding perspective, the cochlea resembles a piano keyboard in a spiral. Hair cells at the base of the cochlea resonate to high frequencies; ones at the apex, to low frequencies. The electrode array can therefore simulate the place coding mechanism by firing electrodes in the appropriate places. High frequencies are transmitted by firing electrodes at the base of the cochlea; low frequencies, by firing electrodes at the apex. The other two mechanisms, rate coding and phase coding , are so much more difficult to replicate electrically that the engineers have focused on place coding. But is replicating only one of the ear's mechanisms enough to do the job? The brain is so flexible- so eager to deal with whatever information it gets-that the answer, more or less, is yes. So the electrode array plays the cochlea like a piano. That is, a very small and very complex piano. Most sounds consist of a jumble of frequencies. A normal cochlea uses physical mechanisms to separate out the frequencies the way a coin sorter rattles coins into piles. A cochlear implant, however, has to do the task with binary logic, digitally taking sound apart and figuring out which electrodes to fire on the array in every passing millisecond. The software that manages this process is one of THE monumental achievements of bionics."

But imagine what this means if your new software is different, or "upgraded" from your older software. I just wonder if your brain is forced to adapt and work harder every time you get an update. And exactly how hard it is to "upgrade" your brain.....to adapt to newly upgraded software?!



Every now and then you have these big moments in your life....

MOMENTS where you are trembling with excitement and anticipation and hope and dreams for the future.

For me, I can say I've had a handful of moments like this:

1-The first I can think of are college acceptance letters, where your future is hanging on those letters, or more likely, the size of those letters (big envelopes=acceptance, small envelopes=refused)...next:

2-when my husband proposed to me.... and I could hardly believe my ears. I wanted to soak in every single thing about that moment--his words, his lips when he said it, remember his perfectly-gelled missionary hair cut, the table cloth and beautiful dishes at the table we were sitting at, the images of the view behind him and around us, knowing that his words and my response would indefinitely change our future....or

3-EVERY. SINGLE. TIME I pushed out a little one from the safety of my tummy into the coldness of this world, to see if it was a BOY or a GIRL.(count em, F-I-V-E)....or

4-Waiting in the dirty, old reception of the ORL department at Necker just hours after my son woke up from his coma to do a hearing exam that I did not completely understand the ramifications of... Waiting for his destiny to unfold in that doctor's office...Listening to her nervous twitch and watching her swish her hair as she told us....and we squeezed our hands together, John and I, with our jaws open, and gaping, that our sweet baby son who just woke up from 9 days of coma, and shock and seizures...and worry that he wouldn't survive..., was now bilaterally, profoundly and permanently D-E-A-F.

It's these moments in our lives that define us. How we respond to these moments and where they take us that make us who we are.

For good, or for bad.

That's where I am this morning. Shuddering with anticipation. Grateful for these researchers and scientists and programmers and miracle-workers who restore some-kind-of-hearing to my little-once-perfect-son's cochlea.

Cochlear is the name of the company. I shake with emotion and fear and trembling and hope and wonder as to how Parker's internal computer implanted in his cochlea and his brain and his little magnet on his skull above his right ear with his thick, rustled strawberry blonde locks will receive this new device, these new programs.

How they will change his life.

His future.

And ours.

Now, I'm gonna go find those sparkles.

New Year, New Goals

It's a wonderful time of the year to regroup & reorganize. As we were sitting in church on SATURDAY (the Jewish Sabbath) in Mt Scopus, in a chapel overlooking the old city of Jerusalem a few days ago, the speaker, a musician, talked of cadences. And how in music they are very important. How the pause is just as important as each note. It rung home to me that these pauses in life are when we receive inspiration, when we meditate, when we commune with who we are within ourselves and where we lie in the universe. And this is where we find God. This is where He sits, and waits for us. He waits for us to consult Him. He waits for us there to funnel us inspiration and revelation.

I realize I need to go there more. I need to receive more.

It's hard enough to make goals for yourself, but as a mother of 5, I want to make goals for each child today, too. And for our family, our marriage. It reminds me of that life-coach quote (or was it the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland?), "If you don't know where you are going, any road will take you there."

I want to go places, so I need to plan how to get there, I guess.

I hope you, too, take the time to reflect in this cadence before the hustle and bustle of life takes over again, count your blessings, give thanks, regroup, reorganize, and be more efficient in the things you hope to get out of life, and accomplish from life. Not only think of your objectives, but think of your outcomes. And get there.

Parker had 2 major hiccups on our trip to the Holy Land with our brood and both sets of grandparents this past week: On the mountain of Petra in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, he took a pretty bad fall, on his face and head. This, just after a lot of reflection on how often he falls, and if he genuinely needs someone to accompany him in a classroom setting (the deaf camp we are applying for asked us just before Christmas). I honestly over-estimate how healthy he is, I underestimate how "handicapped"he is. Maybe it's my positive visualization, maybe I am in denial. Maybe I know that someday SOMEDAY he will be all that God and I want him to be, so I imagine he is already there. But when he is tired, his balance is really effected, and he was hot, and tired, and on very rocky terrain, chasing some adorable puppies. But fell on his head, and scraped his face up preeeettty good. He immediately fell asleep, and it was the first time in a long time I thought he might have a seizure. HE DID NOT. But he went to sleep immediately in our arms, and I was worried about a concussion. Nope. Just needed a good nap after being dragged up a mountain on a mule, and before riding back on a camel. Thank you, dear God.

Next hiccup occurred at 4 am 2 nights later. We had returned to Jerusalem to attend church, and see the Sea of Galilee, the Jordan River, and Capernum, and Cisearea before our flight brought us home. And we were awakened by the hotel security at our wide open door asking if our son with a "messed up" face was missing? Parker woke up at 4 am or so and decided to take a stroll unattended in the hotel. He was found on another wing of the hotel, crying outside a very nice couple's room, who got dressed, and took him to the reception. I asked the security how she knew it was us, and she said she just walked around until she found a room with the door wide open. Sigh. I was grateful he did not decide to climb any dangerous walls or that we were not located on a busy street and he went wandering into the desert or looking for trouble outside of the hotel.

My mother-in-law said to me, "Were you just sick with worry?" And though, yes, I was full of lots of emotions, and reeling for a good hour after we returned to our room, and he repeatedly asked for chocolate, worry was not one of those emotions. I told her, "I've used up all my worry on Parker. At some point I realized that worry is a wasted energy. That it is better to save that energy for other emotions, to assess each situation more level-headed and do what I can." That "I realized long ago that I am not the Master of this universe. It is God. I try & ebb & flow with Parker and his future and destiny."

That being said, I think that we control a lot of our destiny, that we can influence where we end up with the choices that we make. I also firmly believe in the power of prayer. I know that it works. I know that God hears and answers my prayers. So I will make new goals to be set anew for each member of our family today, then pray for help in accomplishing these goals.


Parker's goals for 2012:
(This is my short list for Parker. His own goals would involve anything to do with outside, doggies, cats, balls, chocolate and ice cream)

Run and not be weary
Walk and not faint
Listen and hear and understand
Speak more than 2 syllables at once
Ask questions--not only one word requests
Taper epileptic meds
Increase attention span
Recognize and realize implications of danger
Wear Big Boy Pants (I am afraid this is far, far off)
Get accepted to Deaf Camp in Los Angeles this summer

We wish you all a wonderful holiday season. I hope you all felt the Spirit of Christ and celebrated His birth during this Christmas time. We were very blessed to have John baptize Hannah in Versailles this holiday break, and are so pleased with her choice to follow Him and His teachings. She was so pleased to have both of her Grandpas speak at her baptism, both of her Grandmas pray, and the rest of us sing a special musical family number in sign language with our fantastic nanny, Amber, who has returned to the US. We took an amazingly memorable trip to the Holy Land with those we love nearest and dearest. It was exceptional to walk where Jesus walked with our little ones and blessed parents hand-in-hand. We feel very loved and thank the Lord for our many, many blessings. We wish you all goodness and health and prosperity in 2012.

And enough time and wisdom to stop, and listen to the rests, too, as you listen to the music of this great life.