A Lesson from Molly
by Rebecca J on 2012-11-04
Last nightʼs practice ended with me throwing my word cards on the floor in frustration. We practiced with word cards Iʼd picked up at my most recent audiologist appointment. “Sky,” “flower,” and “dog” were indistinguishable to me, and I couldnʼt hear a difference between “cat” and “grass.” In our first round, the only word that I was able to pick out on first try was “butterfly,” and that was because it happened to be the only three-syllable word in the set. The card-throwing resulted from one too many attempts to hear “bird” unsuccessfully.
Many people have generously offered to help me with my listening practices, and Amy said it would be a good idea to have practice listening to different voices. But right now, I canʼt handle the thought of my family and friends seeing me fail so badly. Itʼs more vulnerability than Iʼm willing to expose right now. Even writing about it is difficult. If it hasnʼt been made obvious yet, I can be a pretty proud person.
Our ten-month-old daughter Molly took her first steps a week ago. She stood up by herself, as sheʼs been doing for at least a month now, and took two little steps as she lost her balance and fell into my arms. Since then, William has coaxed a few more steps out of her on a couple of days this week, and the most Iʼve seen is six at once. Some days she doesnʼt feel like walking by herself, so she doesnʼt. She opts to crawl or when she can, to walk around with her fingers tightly wrapped around a grown-upʼs. But when she does take a few independent steps, she is so pleased with herself.
Molly is satisfied with her five clumsy steps forward before she collapses into someoneʼs arms. Sheʼs more than happy to have help with her wobbly, stiff-legged practicing. She would be happy to have someone help her walk around our kitchen island over and over, because itʼs valuable practice for her and strengthens her little legs. When she gets tired, she crawls away, knowing that sheʼll feel better next time. And she is confident that with more time and practice, she will be able to run and jump and skip, just like her big sister.
So, I will take my one easy-to-understand word, “butterfly,” and be pleased with that little wobbly-eared (if you will) success. I will keep up with my awkward practicing and maybe even let someone hold my hands along the way. When I get tired, I will be satisfied with having done my homework and remember that I can hear at least a little bit better than I did last week. And I know that with much more practice and stumbling over and over, I someday will be listening and talking effortlessly.
Molly and I will be baby-stepping along the way together.
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