The world is wider than that.
When my oldest was first diagnosed with hearing loss, I needed reasons.
So, I sought out genetic testing. A parent of a deaf child told me: “It won’t change anything. But I understand, I did it too.”
I fought for months to get the insurance company to approve genetic testing. In the end, we got it approved and we learned he had a rare double recessive gene that, according to their small sample size, usually resulted in a child being profoundly deaf from birth.
He is not profoundly deaf. At least not now.⠀
He didn’t fit the profile – not exactly.
So in the end, what we found was some reason and a whole lot more maybes… and to be honest – it DIDN’T change anything.
It didn’t change how we helped him.
It didn’t change how we loved him.
It didn’t change how wonderfully made and incredibly special he is.
Right now, I’m in the midst of testing my twins for learning differences. This, I would argue, is essential testing. This kind of testing provides answers and clues that will change how we serve these boys in school and at home.
But it still won’t change how we love them.
It still won’t change how wonderfully made and incredibly special they are.
In fact, I believe it’ll make them more so.
Sometimes reasons and proofs are necessary, but I’d argue living with some “maybes” is essential.
This morning I opened my twins bookbags to put their lunchboxes inside. I found that their folders were overflowing.
Sighing, I took out the folders to see what papers I failed to check over the past week. Instead I found a dozen origami figures – swans and flowers and more. I also found a few poems and riddles written out painstakingly for their teachers.
Without me knowing, they had created a lot of beauty for their teachers today as they come back from Thanksgiving. Despite the obvious challenges of spelling and writing contained on the pages, they were the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
These are the moments of maybe.
These are the moments of hope.