Day 10 Ghana 2012: Leah’s Wisdom

Monday, January 23, 2012
Last night we stayed up late and packed. We still have no running water. It was a really hot and miserable night. Jen and I are sharing a room. I woke up and saw that she was all cocooned up in her light blue sheet, (we brought our own sheets to use on top of the hotel bedding). The power was on and the fan was near her, so I said, “Jen, if you are too cold and want to kill the fan, go for it.” She peeked her head out and reached over and hit the “off” button. Immediately were hit with hot and humid air. It was so fast! “Ah!” I groaned, “or… you can feel free to turn it back on!” We both started laughing, as she quickly turned the fan back on.

Today is our last day. Curry, Aaron, Leah, Jen and I got up early and went to visit the deaf school in Koforidua. It’s very different from the school in Mampong. The Koforidua school has two vocational programs for their students, one trains them in the art of batik fabrics. The teacher walked us through the process.

I told her that Leah is an artist and the teacher suggested that Leah could stay with her for a few months and learn to do batik. I, for one, cannot think of a better option if Leah has rough teenage years. It’s nice to have an open invitation to a third world country for vocational training and a reality check, that’s for sure! The fabrics are beautiful and some of the designs are hand drawn in wax, while others are stamped, with carved wooden stamps, that have been dipped in the wax. The school sells this fabric to help pay for the cost of the programs.
(Click on photos to enlarge)

Every year, Signs of Hope visits and purchases large amounts of the batik fabric. Last time Curry came and purchased their fabric, the program used that money that to buy a new serger. The school also has a leatherwork program. The students are trained to make sandals, wallets, and belts.

This deaf school also has a special education class, the children are taught to Batik as well. We were told “their work is not perfect, but it’s still a good opportunity for them to learn.” Today was the first time that I saw children who have Down syndrome here in Ghana.

Today was a special day, because I was able to meet up with Amma, who is the mother of Shirley, who follows me on twitter. Shirley had seen me tweet when she found out about our Team going to Ghana. Her mother happened to be there already and had brought Signing Time DVDs with her for their family members. Amma met up with us at the Deaf school and took the tour with us. She has started the Kentucky Academy a Kindergarten program that also feeds the children. They currently have 100 children in their program.
It was great meeting Amma and she was excited to see the deaf school too. She and her husband have a group of volunteers that come from the University of Kentucky and she said that in the future their volunteers could stop by this deaf school when shopping for fabric. She asked me how, with all of my fans, I even saw the tweet from her daughter, let alone took the time to respond. I told her, it’s because I am not “a real celebrity”, it seems that “real celebrities” just collect followers, but rarely interact with them.

We went back to Mampong and made a hurried visit to Aburi. I stopped by Modest Fashions and got my dresses.

Then we went to the wood district and got the Wooden Probar.

I rushed across the road to see how Lucy’s wooden lollipop was coming along. My wood-carver was nowhere to be seen, but his Uncle handed me a cell phone. “Madam, I am sorry. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make the lollipop.” I was pretty bummed. The one thing Lucy had asked for and I wasn’t going to deliver. I walked back across the street where Aaron was still talking to Sammy. When I told them what happened, Sammy said, “I will make you a wooden lollipop by three o’clock!” We left for a few hours and when we came back…

We went to Mampong for lunch and had the most delicious chicken, rice and fried plantains. We all ate until we were stuffed!

We went back to the school for our last visit.

We hugged the children, told them goodbye and many of them pointed to the sky and told us that they would watch for us in an airplane flying over their heads.

As we made our way from the school grounds to toward the road we noticed a young woman who was signing and then we noticed that the person with her put their own hands beneath hers as they replied. Miracle of miracles, it was Sylvia! Leah and I went over and began signing with her. She was pretty confused at first and asked for her translator. Then Sylvia put her hands on Leah’s and Leah told her, “I am Leah.” Sylvia touched Leah’s face and hair, and recognized her, “Leah? You have grown! Your hair is braided too.”

Sylvia told us that she is now in high school, she passed the tests and is now the very first deaf-blind student all of Ghana to enter high school. We congratulated her, talked a little more and then really had to go. We needed to pack, load the tro-tro and get to the airport. The rest of our Team had moved on without us, but it was okay. Leah and I said our goodbyes to Sylvia and then, I took my daughter’s hand and we walked down the dirt road to the street. My eyes were full of tears and I glanced over and noticed tears streaming down Leah’s cheeks. She was smiling. I signed, “What is it?” She signed back, “Mom, she’s the proof. Sylvia is the evidence that anything is possible. She’s a deaf, blind, Ghanaian girl who is now in high school and plans to go to college. Mom, it’s not our circumstances that keep us from reaching our dreams. It’s our excuses that keep us from reaching our dreams.”

I put an arm around her and we walked. The sun was setting. The sky was smoky. We were both hot and tired. I couldn’t help but think back to the day in 1998 when Aaron and I found out that our one-year-old toddler was deaf. I had cried. I wept. That day, I imagined many, many different things, things that my baby girl could never do. I also imagined many things that I would have to give up, like writing and performing music. Honestly, what I couldn’t do back then was imagine all of the wonderful things that would happen to us. I couldn’t imagine the countless friends that we would have around the country and around the world. I couldn’t foresee how many lives we would touch, or how many children we would help with their communication. I had no idea of the many, many lives that would impact ours.

“I’m going to come back, you know.” I said to Leah.
“I know, mom” she said, “I’m coming back too.”

Run With Your Life: Part 2 – No Exceptions

Once upon a time~
Someone sent me a link to a video about Team Hoyt. This was a long, long time ago. As I watched this father push his son, I was floored. I was inspired. It gave new meaning to “strong enough.” At the time I didn’t think that it had much to do with me, but I never forgot those images. I never forgot the love.

Last year when I registered for both half-marathons, I admit, I checked the rules. I looked to see if a stroller or a wheelchair would be allowed. The rules clearly stated that wheelchairs and strollers were NOT allowed. Did I secretly give a sigh of relief? Maybe. I’ll never tell.

This year I checked the rules again as I registered for the Salt Lake City Half-Marathon. Nothing had changed. In fact it stated “No wheelchairs. No strollers. No exceptions.” I was checking the rules for myself… sort of, I mean Lucy hadn’t even asked about it. I just wondered how it was that Team Hoyt seemed to find so many races that would allow them to participate when so far I was ZERO for Three.

And then one day not too long ago she said it…
I was in the kitchen. Lucy was on the sofa reading. She looked up and said, “I really want to run a half-marathon.” My heart sank just a little because… I had already looked. I already knew the answer was “no.” I smiled at my daughter and said, “That would be fun wouldn’t it?” But, I could still see the words “No Exceptions” clearly in my mind.

When Leah registered to run the half-marathon with us there was a part of me that felt even worse! What was I going to say now? “Sorry Lucy, see Leah’s just deaf and you… well, you got a bummer deal on the ol’ legs. You can’t walk and you can’t run so you get to stay home with a babysitter. Chalk one up for spina bifida and cerebral palsy.”

More than two weeks had passed since I made the call. YES, I made the call. I set the girls up with their homework and I went outside on the front porch. I shut the front door and I called the Race Director. I got his voicemail and I left the most compelling message I could muster up. In the face of No Exceptions, I was just committed (or crazy) enough to ask for one anyhow. I actually said, “I am calling to ask you to make an exception.” (Bwahahaha!)

Weeks went by and no one called me back, so I posted “Run With Your Life” and I only talked about Leah joining us in the race which was exciting and amazing and… I knew something was missing. You knew it too. You asked about Lucy in your comments.

Then… two days later I got word.
Lucy was in!!!

I might have jumped up and down in my front yard and whooped and hollered a bit. I just might have.

I couldn’t wait to tell Lucy. As soon as she was off the school bus and the bus engine had faded enough for us to talk I told her, “Lucy, I have really exciting news! You can do the half-marathon with us! We can all run as a family!” Lucy’s eyes were wide with disbelief. She put out her arms to hug me. Her eyes welled with tears. “Can you believe it Lucy?” I asked.

Still slightly shocked she looked up at me with a huge smile and said in a half whisper, “I am going to get a medal!”

We hadn’t been training with her and now the race was only a month away. We didn’t even own a jog-stroller. I called my friend Mike at Baby Bling Design Co. I knew that even though he doesn’t make the kind of stroller that I needed, he could tell me what I needed and point me in the right direction to find it. Like I said Mike doesn’t make that kind of stroller but as luck would have it he just happened to have one that he had used as a prototype for sheepskin stroller inserts. He had been trying to figure out what to do with this brand new jog-stroller in his warehouse. (Are you kidding me?) Within two hours of our “exception” Mike had donated the stroller and it was on its way to us!

And that’s how it happened that THIS Saturday Aaron, Rachel, Leah and Lucy Coleman will ALL be participating in the Salt Lake City Half-Marathon!!!
You can jump up and down a bit and even whoop and holler. I wont tell. Or better yet, if you are in town we would love to have you cheer us on. I think we’ll be pretty easy to spot… see, we’ll be the ones with the stroller.

Run With Your Life - No Exceptions

~With special thanks to Team Hoyt for paving the way and special thanks to The Salt Lake City Marathon Race Director, Scott Kerr for being a “Yes” in a world full of “No”

The Storm- Before The Quiet- Before The Storm

The Storm- Before The Quiet- Before The Storm

Ransacked Beach

Ransacked Beach

We had come back from a chilly, rainy day at the ransacked beach to find that something was different. The sliding glass doors that open to the hotel room balcony had been taped, not taped shut, but taped with giant asterisks of packing tape.

While you were out we taped your windows

While you were out we taped your windows

The wind had picked up. It had rained daily. (At least it was consistent) Of course we were hoping for better weather. But, since this was supposed to be a business retreat, maybe it was best that it was cool and windy and pouring rain.

Then there was a knock at the door. FYI- I don’t speak much Spanish. I opened the door and was handed two styrofoam “to-go” containers. “Gracias.” I said. It sounded like a question coming out of my mouth.

“Did you order room service?” I hollered to Aaron. He walked out of the bedroom and Leah followed. I held up the containers. We all sat near Lucy and opened them. Continue reading

The Last Hurrah

Only two weeks of summer were left and we had them planned, solid. The Last Hurrah would be 6 days in Yellowstone. See, Lucy was scheduled for surgery. She was scheduled just two days after we would be returning home from our Yellowstone trip. She and I would then spend the final week of summer vacation in the hospital while she recovered. Ideally she would be released from the hospital, just in time for school to start.


If there is anyone who should have learned to expect the unexpected, it’s me, but sometimes I just forget that part.

This is where our story begins.

I had never been to Yellowstone, so I dug through their website looking for information. Their website was not very helpful, there was simply too much information and I had no idea where to start. (so I will link you to it!!)

Yellowstone was… in a word, remarkable. We must’ve accidentally purchased the deluxe package because we saw it all. It was amazing!

Considering that I called a reservation center and was assigned a random campsite, we somehow ended up with an amazing site!

Just what we ordered

Just what we ordered

When I retire, I think I am going to be a Campground Host. Aaron is the one with the Parks, Recreation and Tourism degree to make it happen. I was going to be a nurse, because I wanted to help people, but I dropped out of college after my first year to become a musician. A musician! How silly is that? How many college kids bail on their degree to become musicians… pipe dreams I tell ya!

Back to Yellowstone and retiring. When I do retire, you can find me at Bridge Bay Campground, Loop H. I will have potted plants, an herb garden and a welcome mat in front of my RV. I will have a hammock hung between two lodgepole pines. Look for me in a high-end camping chair, the kind with two drink holders, a sunshade and a footrest. Living large!

Leah and Lucy are great little campers. I have proof. Don’t they look miserable?

Happy Camper

Happy Camper

Playing kung fu games

Playing kung fu games

We also take our food very seriously when camping;) Dutch Oven Meatloaf was our dinner.

I can cook anything in a Dutch oven

I can cook anything in a Dutch oven

Roasting marshmallows takes patience AND focus.

Don't Mess With the Marshmallow

Don't Mess With the Marshmallow

Aaron and I are ambitious hikers. So, on day two we set out for a 6 mile hike.

Clear Lake Trailhead

Clear Lake Trailhead

Such a beautiful trail

Such a beautiful trail

We would have seen two lakes and two waterfalls. I say “would have seen” because just 1 mile up the trail there was a sign that said the trail was closed due to “dangerous conditions.” Hmmm.

Okay! It’s time for Choose Your Own Adventure: You are a family of four, hiking in the woods. Your route, which was recommended by a Ranger at an Information Center, is now closed. You…
A. Keep hiking that path.
B. Turn around and hike back a mile. (Wow! A whopping 2 mile hike.)
C. Take another path.
D. Get eaten by a bear (you are in Yellowstone)

We went with option “C” and took another path. I’ll admit we stood there for a while and thought about it though. I realized that if it were just me and Aaron, I would have gone for the closed trail, but then again, I got into a paddleboat in a lagoon of crocodiles in Ghana… so, I bet you’re not surprised.

Yes, we took another path that lead us out of the woods, directly to the road. Then we followed the road to a parking area, and from the parking area to some well marked tourist paths. Boo! :( Oh well, we tried! Still ambitious, we hiked down Uncle Tom’s Trail, a path that the Ranger said we shouldn’t bother trying with a 50 pound child in a backpack. (Bring it!) It is pretty much a billion stairs down to the bottom of a waterfall. (Truth be told it is over 300 stairs and a descent of 500 feet) Aaron took the pack with Lucy down and back up. I’ve gotta say there were people, carrying nothing on their backs, who were huffing and puffing harder than Aaron. (Go Aaron, go!)

Somewhere Under The Rainbow

Somewhere Under The Rainbow

Catching His Breath

Catching His Breath

That's a whole lotta H2O

That's a whole lotta H2O

Then I took Lucy on my back and we “hiked” back to the car.

Self Portrait

Self Portrait

2 miles = Smiles

2 miles = Smiles

We had lunch and then continued on to the next stop.

Did you know that the center of the Earth smells like hard boiled eggs? Yeah, charming I know! In Yellowstone, there are countless geothermal areas, some spouting water and others just letting off steam, and all of them laced with varying degrees of sulphur. (Fabulous!)

Some are holes of boiling mud.

Boiling Mud Pot

Boiling Mud Pot

Others are multi-colored fairy pools.

Do You Know The Colors of the Rainbow?

Do You Know The Colors of the Rainbow?

Some look like science projects gone wrong,



and some look like science projects gone right.

Aaron and Lucy at Giant Geyser

Aaron and Lucy at Giant Geyser

Most of them smell bad! I really wish my blog was scratch-n-sniff right now.

I hiked Lucy around the mud pots. Leah thought this stop was torturous. The hot sulphur blasts of steam fogged her glasses and sent her reeling… she likened it to the open sewers in Ghana. Lucy, on the other hand, just hollered, “Pee-yew!” at each stop.

While driving up north to Mammoth Hot Springs, we saw bison.

Stay in the car kids

Stay in the car kids

And we saw a bear!

Roll Up The Windows Kids

Roll Up The Windows Kids

We stopped to hike the Tower Falls Trail.

Tower Falls

Tower Falls

This time, I carried Lucy down the trail and back up. As we hiked, I could hear Lucy saying something, quietly, to herself. I finally asked her, what she was saying. “I’m just counting your steps.” (That makes two of us)

When we were climbing back up from the waterfall, I stopped to catch my breath and drink some water. As I started back up the steep trail, Lucy could tell I was working hard, she leaned in, over my shoulder and quietly said, “Mom, this is what you are training for.”

Ok, talk about words of encouragement!

Did I tear up a little? Uh, maybe.
Did I pick up my pace? Yeah. I did. Because suddenly, I felt a little less tired.

But you know what, Lucy’s right! This is the event– waterfalls, dirt, trees and steep rocky paths with Lucy on my back. She’s right!

A few minutes later a curious voice asked, “How old is she?” I turned to see a couple in their sixties right behind me. The woman had asked the question. “Oh, she is nine.” I was breathing hard but doing my best to keep my voice steady.

“She’s nine?” the woman asked, surprised. Now I wondered, was she surprised because Lucy looks younger than nine or was she surprised that a 9 year-old was on her mother’s back? She continued, “Well, let me tell you something.” (here it comes) “When my daughter was five she always wanted me to carry her…” (ah, the latter) “and we came up with this game you ought to try.”

I kept smiling. I didn’t want to interrupt, that would be rude, but I already knew how this was going to play out. Somebody was going to feel bad.

She kept talking, “See I would walk ahead and tell her all she needed to do was meet me. Once she met me, it was her turn to walk ahead and I would meet her. You see? Then, before she knew it, she had walked the entire way!” (helps if you can walk)

“That’s really great.” I said, meaning it.

See, I don’t like this. I don’t try to leave people feeling like they shouldn’t have said anything in the first place, but I was pretty sure that in a few minutes, she was going to be kicking herself. I turned, looking back down the steep path and said, “The thing is… this trail isn’t wheelchair friendly… at all. So, if I didn’t carry her, she would just miss out on all of the beauty.” I said it smiling, cheerily, not in snide or rude way, I promise!

“Oh! Oh! I am sorry! She’s in a wheelchair?” (no she’s on my back, but…)

“Yep, she has spina bifida and cerebral palsy.” Again, I state it as a fact, like saying “the sky is blue.” No pity. (Please no pity.)

“Oh! My! I am sorry! So, so sorry!”

Was she apologizing to me or to my daughter? Was she “sorry” that Lucy uses a wheelchair? Or “sorry” for suggesting I force Lucy to walk? It didn’t matter, really. For the past eleven years I have worked on ways to give information about my kids, without adding drama. Additionally I have honed my skills, so that I can take someone’s reaction and diffuse it, and explain it to Lucy or Leah so that they can see it is just someone else’s point of view. It is not the truth. Most people look at Lucy and they can only see what is “missing.” They are blinded by the wheelchair, the disability. They cannot imagine the full and beautiful life Lucy has. The full and beautiful life we have, yes, even with a child in a wheelchair.

I used to want to smack people upside the head when they said ridiculous things, but now I listen to the reaction that goes off in my head… it’s just my synapses firing. I listen to the reaction, my reaction and then… a very calm, collected mommy chooses the words that come out of my mouth. (most of the time)

I just kept smiling and the woman continued, “The poor little thing!” (Please don’t say that in front of my kid.) I quickly cut her off for fear that we might be dazzled with some of my least favorite adjectives like “crippled” and least favorite statements like “she’s bound to a wheelchair.” (Want to see bound? Watch her without the wheelchair)

“Oh, no apology needed.” I said. “Lucy is a very smart and very fun little girl. We’re not going to let dirt and hills stop us from seeing so many beautiful things, are we Lucy.”

The woman continued, “Well, I really can’t imagine doing what you are doing. You are going to be a very, very strong young lady!”

“That’s what I’m working on.”
I smiled.
She smiled.

It was quiet.
We all kept walking.
We came to the parking area.
We completed the trek.
We did it.
And you know what? I don’t even think the woman was kicking herself.

Yes, this is what I’m training for.

She's not heavy. She's my daughter

She's not heavy. She's my daughter

To be continued…

Being Thankful… for Leah

Being Thankful for Leah

Thanksgiving is over…
and Leah’s birthday is today. She’s 12! (I KNOW, just go back and watch My First Signs and she will continue to live on as a 4 year-old and we can all just pretend that 12 isn’t happening!!)

The night before Thanksgiving, I was thinking about the things I am thankful for and then I thought that I could probably surprise myself by actually diving into my journals and reading how it really was. I have 10 journals, so I opened one up to see what year and what thoughts it held… The first one I opened was from 6 years ago. The entry written about the Christmas after we shot Signing Time 2 and 3.

December 29, 2002 – Salt Lake City, UT

Christmas was hard. We had nothing and could give little, even to our own kids. Aaron and I didn’t give each other gifts. Two days before Christmas my dad gave us $200. The next day my sister Julie gave us $200. We were then able to get Leah a bike and a Gameboy. She also got all of her Signing Time wardrobe clothes and the “Leah Doll” – it was pretty humbling.

After I read that I called Aaron in. I read it to him and we both sat there stunned. We had to think, really hard to even remember that Christmas. The following morning, Thanksgiving Day, I pulled my dad and my sister Julie aside and thanked them for giving us Christmas 6 years ago. Neither one of them vividly remembered helping us out. Just as I didn’t vividly remember the Christmas we really needed help. If it hadn’t been in my journal, would their generosity and our need have been entirely forgotten?

Then I couldn’t stop. Each night I have poured over my journals. It’s been painful. It’s been funny. It’s been an interesting journey, to say the least. My journals are stuffed with concert tickets, notes, postcards, scribbles from Leah, photos, and songs I have written.

I dug deeper in time, reading the details of Leah’s birth and then found this:

December 10, 1996 – Salt Lake City, UT

… Aaron said, “It’s a GIRL!!!”
I started crying, “My baby, my baby girl!”
Aaron kissed me and said, “It’s Leah.”
Leah Jane Coleman. Leah who was called Anna before her birth. Leah who’d kick my ribs, (and sometimes my heart, it seemed) Leah who pushed against my guitar during all of those shows. Leah who gave me the feeling while singing “In Silence.”

Little Leah Jane whose daddy would run his fingers over my belly and say “Here’s your spider, here comes your spider!” Leah whose heels and knees I could slide around, whose little leg would press out hard as I massaged it. Leah with hiccups- Leah at 1:00AM and 10:30AM playtime.

Leah, who I threw up every day for. Leah who I prayed about and worried about. Leah, who made me what I’ve wanted to be most for years – a mom. My little girl’s mommy.

Leah with me while I hiked in Boulder, Utah. Leah in Bryce Canyon. Leah hiking the Zion’s Narrows. She’s my little girl. My sweet little girl now and for always. I love my daughter more than she may ever know.

It’s 3:20AM and I’m crying my eyes out. You’re here asleep next to me and your dad’s on the other side of you and that’s where we will always be, right beside you.

I love you so much. I love you more than you may ever know, maybe when you have a girl of your own. Goodnight my sweet girl, pleasant dreams. I’m so glad you are here with us. I love you, I love you – I LOVE YOU!”


I went forward in my journal, looking a year after Leah’s birth to find little bits and pieces. Confused entries about Leah’s hearing. Just a line here and there. Things like:

“We don’t know if she can hear us.”
“She has fluid in her ears, but her pediatrician thinks it’s more than that…”
“We can’t get in for the ABR test for 6 more weeks!”
“Still no answer on Janey’s ears.”

No answers in my journal for months and then I found this:

March 31, 1998 Tuesday
Salt Lake City, UT

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so alone in my whole life. I feel like there is no one I can talk to because no one would understand why I’m crying. Actually I think they would misunderstand. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me or for Janey. I don’t want to call our families and tell them what “PK” the audiologist told us today. Half of my tears are simply tears of relief. The wondering and questions are done. A tearful release of 2 1/2 months- fears, hopes, anticipation and prayers.

I know it’s not helpful but I can only blame myself, and it’s eating me up inside. I think that in his heart Aaron blames me too. In only these past few months people have asked if Jane’s hearing loss is because of my band. And playing and practicing while I was pregnant. People ask. Or they say “boy that must be devastating with you being a musician and music meaning so much.” Do they really think I give a S#*! about my music in comparison to my DAUGHTER?

I’d never sing or play another note if it mattered. Music is nothing to me. Leah Jane is my world. She is wonderful. She is beautiful. I feel like the biggest obstacle in her way is me. I don’t know sign language. I came so close to learning it, so many times. But I didn’t. I feel bewildered. But I feel thankful that we caught it as early as we did….

….We may never know what caused it, or if she as born with it. “Deaf” is such an uncomfortable word for me to use. In a way I am glad that I didn’t know when she was born. Maybe I would’ve treated her differently. Maybe I’d be totally over protective. Everyone would’ve treated her a little different. But now I have had 16 months of Janey. And treating her like a regular kid (except that she is more awesome than most kids)…

…I know of 3 people who are deaf. I’ve had conversations with only one of them ever. I hardly know what the term means. I remember the deaf kids in Jr. High and High school. I sure could not tell you any of their names. They all stayed together with their interpreter and I never gave them a second thought.

Severe – Moderate – Mild mean so little all your life. But today, I was told my daughter has a severe hearing loss. And I still barely grasp the concept. But the word SEVERE is clanging around in my brain. SEVERE? What does that mean? And what does deaf mean? Is there a scale to measure it on? If hearing aids help you are you still deaf?

She can sign a few words now. MOMMY, SLEEP, EAT, SHOES, THANK YOU, BIRD. When I teach a sign she always “rolls it and rolls it and sticks it with a B”

She has the most beautiful lips and puckers for kisses. She also puckers when I tell her “NO” because it looks like kisses. How can I keep a straight face when she does that?
When she gets frustrated she hits her head with her hands, or on the floor.

When she’s nursing, she looks up at me then squeezes both eyes shut tight and then pops them open. She nurses, and the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile. Maybe she’s never heard me say the WORDS I love you. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all. She probably knows it more than most kids who hear it every day.

A few weeks ago Leah and I were talking. She asked me how I felt when I found out she was deaf. I told her, “I was distraught. I cried. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I was scared.”

Leah smiled at me and said, “That’s so funny mom. You thought it was terrible and now you know it’s not.”

She’s right.