Up until yesterday I was having the most perfect week.

I had just given birth to my second child. Another, gorgeous, baby boy.

My 3 ½ year old had taken on the role of big brother with great pride and the OH, and I, felt blessed to have two healthy boys.

Like all new parents, we had spent the week in a blur of dirty nappies, tiredness and a constant strive to keep some sense of normality for the budding big brother. The postpartum pregnancy hormones had kicked in, and we had good days and bad days, but we were happy. We were revelling in our own happiness with our perfect baby boy.

He seemed to be disturbed so easily by noise.  He had cried at a tannoy speaker in ASDA. He had been so much more active in the womb.

He had to be hearing, didn’t he?

We had spent the week visiting Santa, going for walks and bonding as a family of four. We were just a normal family with a perfect new addition.

Only, we aren’t your ‘average’ family.

You see, we are a connexin 26 family.

Our first born, the love of our lives, is deaf. He was born deaf. It had been a devastating shock 3 ½ years ago.

We’ve come along away since then.
We have learned a lot.
We have accepted his deafness and embraced it along with all of his quirks.
We have endured cochlear implant surgery at 10.5 months old.
We have survived and, despite everything, our boy has thrived.

But I was confident things would be different this time around. The odds were in our favour, after all. 

We are both good people. We both work hard and do charitable work. Surely we would be given a break this time???

Only yesterday, I knew. I knew when the first born dropped a stack of toys right next to his crib, and he didn’t startle.

He didn’t startle and he didn’t cry. He didn’t hear. He was deaf.

Just like his big brother.

I knew then and I cried.

I took it out on the OH. I took it out on the first born. I knew but I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to spoil our ‘most perfect week’.