The real journey was just beginning.
Giving birth to our son Cooper was a day filled with excitement, anticipation, and immense relief. After enduring a long and exhausting natural labour, I held our perfect baby boy in my arms, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and protection. Little did I know, the real journey was just beginning.
Shortly after birth, Cooper failed his initial hearing screening. The doctors assured us it was likely due to mucus in his ears and would clear up in a couple of weeks. However, during the follow-up test, Cooper failed again, leading to an Auditory Brainstem Response (ABR) referral. Despite reassurance from the doctor, I couldn’t shake a growing sense of unease.
The day of the ABR test was grueling. We struggled to keep Cooper asleep in a stuffy hospital room, my anxiety mounting. When the audiologist delivered the news that Cooper had moderately severe hearing loss and couldn’t hear a face-to-face conversation, my heart shattered. It felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. The dreams I had for my son seemed to crumble, replaced by fear and guilt.
The initial shock turned into an emotional rollercoaster. Every day I woke up hoping it was just a bad dream. I felt ashamed, embarrassed, and overwhelmingly guilty, believing that my genes had caused Cooper’s hearing loss. Nights were filled with endless tears and frantic searches on Google, desperate for a solution, a cure—anything to make this go away.
Navigating this new reality was isolating and painful. I avoided social interactions, unable to discuss Cooper without breaking down. The diagnosis of postpartum depression only added to the weight I was carrying. The world felt like it was moving on without me while I was stuck in a dark, lonely place.
Determined not to settle for negativity, we sought the best professionals and insisted on comprehensive genetic testing. When the results revealed Cooper also had a gene associated with progressive vision loss, my heart broke anew. The fear of him losing his sight on top of his hearing loss was unbearable.
Despite the crushing news, I found solace in small victories. Cooper’s first words were a beacon of hope. Each milestone he reached was a triumph, a testament to his resilience and our unwavering support. We immersed ourselves in his world, talking and reading to him constantly, determined to give him the best start.
As time passed, my perspective shifted. I found strength in our journey and hope in the advancements of medical science. Cooper’s speech development brought immense joy and relief, and I realised that despite the challenges, we were creating a beautiful life together.
Sitting at the beach with my family, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Our journey had transformed me, filling me with a fierce determination to fight for Cooper's future. The tears that rolled down my cheeks were no longer of sorrow but of hope and excitement for the incredible life we were building, one filled with love, resilience, and endless possibilities.