Gift of Sound

After many hours of pain, blood, sweat, and tears, a young woman held her newborn child her in arms. Having been cursed with being deaf since the time of her own birth, she was robbed of hearing his first cries, the sweet cooing sounds he made as she cradled him to her breast. She’d hoped and prayed all throughout her pregnancy that he wouldn’t be cursed with the same affliction.

The doctors who’d examined him after his birth wrote on a notepad that he could hear just fine. He’d turn his head or make some kind of noise if he heard a voice, a bang, whatever sound was being made in the immediate vicinity. She heaved a sigh of relief at knowing that, although she couldn’t and had never been able to, her son would be able to hear just fine. Once the baby was taken from her and down to the nursery, she cried silent tears as she thought about the experiences they’d both be robbed of over the years. He’d never get to hear her voice, whether she was singing or telling him she loved him. She’d never get to hear his in return as he cried out to her, begging for a cookie or a hug.

It was several hours before the young mother was able to cry herself to sleep, wondering if the peace of knowing her son could hear would last. Was he able to hear for this short period of time, only to be robbed of that gift as he aged? Or would he be able to hear unless he got into an accident of some sort where he hit his head with enough force to knock him out? There were so many unanswered questions about what the future would bring, and she was helpless to get the answers which she sought.

Her dreams were haunted by what she thought should’ve been her voice, singing soft lullabies to her son after they were released from the hospital. Tears rolled down her cheeks in the dream because not only could she sing and speak, but she could hear. She could hear herself talking and singing to her son, she could hear his soft coos and the cries he gave when he was hungry or needed a diaper change. But her subconscious knew when she awoke, she’d live life the way she had for the past twenty-three years: in complete silence.

I wish I could hear so that I could live my life as a normal person, she thought, her eyes opening at sunrise. I wish I could speak to my son, hear his voice as he grows, but most importantly, I wish I could teach him to sing as my mother once longed to teach me.

With another silent cry of despair, the young woman rolled onto her side and buried her face into her pillow. If not for the helpless, defenseless child who so desperately needed her, she’d give up on this life where she could hear nothing and couldn’t communicate without either writing down what she wanted to say, or meeting someone who also knew sign language. But, no matter how miserable she was or how miserable she became in the future due to being a deaf-mute, she couldn’t give up because of her beloved son.

Notes