Spending time with Deaf kid. All day. Every day.
Repeating/signing every word that comes out of Bea's mouth so that he can have access to his little sister's world.
Refereeing children every time we get into car:
Owen: "Music please."
Bea: "Don't want music."
Me: "Bea, it would be nice if you let Owen have music in the car because he can't hear our voices."
Bea: "But the music is too LOUD!"
Owen: "What she say?"
Watching Owen time and time again, approach a random Hearing kid on the playground, try to make a connection, and fail.
Wondering where on earth Bea would come up with;
"Owen is stupid because he's Deaf."
Swallowing painful shards of guilt each time I have to chase Owen down as he scampers toward the water; to take his hearing aids out.
Losing my patience at the end of a long day at the end of a long summer when Owen has asked me for the gazillionth time in an hour to tell him what Bea has said, and then telling him too loudly;
"You don't have to YELL at me!!"
Catching Owen faking it;
"Did you hear him? You understand?"
"Ok. What did he say?"
"I don't know."
Witnessing my little fish's life out of his Deaf pond.
Knowing he fully belongs there,
And I never fully will.