Parenting comes with its unique challenges, and for me, navigating this journey with hearing aids has added layers of complexity I never anticipated. I remember a moment in the car when my son, Ethan, called out from his car seat, eager to share something with me. Despite my best efforts — turning down the music and rolling up the windows — I couldn’t quite decipher his words. It took several attempts before I finally admitted, “I can’t hear you!” In that instant, a wave of fear washed over me; the reality of not being able to hear my child hit hard.
I have relied on hearing aids since I was eight years old due to nerve damage with no known cause. These small devices allow me to engage with the world around me; without them, conversations sound like the mumbling of Charlie Brown’s teacher. While I’ve largely accepted my hearing loss, the prospect of becoming a parent stirred up underlying anxieties about missing key moments in my child’s life.
Before Ethan was born, I tried to remain optimistic, but once he arrived, those fears intensified. I was determined to hear every cry and coo. My husband, Jake, often urged me to trust him and take my hearing aids out to get some rest, but I was reluctant. Although our son slept peacefully in his bassinet next to me, I couldn’t shake the need to rely solely on my own hearing — even though I knew Jake has impeccable hearing, almost like a superpower.
When we transitioned Ethan to his crib down the hall, he adapted seamlessly, while I grew increasingly anxious. I resorted to sleeping with one hearing aid in and set up a video and audio monitor that added to my sleepless nights. It emitted high-frequency sounds that I couldn’t hear but drove Jake to distraction.
After six months of sleepless nights, I finally surrendered to my exhaustion and learned to rely on Jake’s hearing. I recognized he wanted the best for our son and could alert me if needed. Now that Ethan is three, he’s become more curious about my hearing aids. We talk openly about them, and I’ve taught him the importance of not touching my devices, explaining how they help me hear him better.
As Ethan’s language has developed, I find the stakes higher. Not hearing him when he wants to talk can stir a mix of frustration, anger, sadness, and ultimately fear. I worry about missing something important. But this is our life, and I strive to maintain open communication with him about my hearing challenges. I practice lip-reading and encourage him to make eye contact when he speaks to me. It’s a bonus because I get to see his expressive face — and sometimes a bit of spit — when he shares exciting news.
Having a hearing impairment does not diminish my ability to parent or listen. Yes, there are moments of frustration that can feel overwhelming, but these are challenges we can face together. I may not hear everything Ethan says, but I am committed to being the mom he needs, regardless of my disability.
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Summary
Parenting with hearing aids presents its own unique set of challenges. Despite the fears of missing important moments, open communication and support from loved ones help navigate this journey. Accepting my hearing loss while remaining committed to being an engaged parent is key to our family’s success.