Milk: One of My Greatest Accomplishments

This is a picture of 116 breastmilk bottles. (They are used to hook up to breast pumps to collect milk.) I took the picture when I was preparing to move and was packing away some baby feeding supplies.

My baby is almost 2 years old, and I can hardly believe it. As I approach the second anniversary of her birth, I also approach the one-year anniversary of completing one of my biggest accomplishments. I pumped breastmilk for one year. Lots of women nurse, or pump milk, for their babies, and lots of women do it for a year or longer. Even now, I sometimes look back and think, "Why did I think that was such a big accomplishment?" But it was a huge accomplishment for me. At the time I finished it, I remember being so happy and relieved and proud. I remember thinking that how I felt was comparable to how I felt when I graduated college.

While I was pregnant with my first daughter, I had a goal: breastfeed for at least one year. However, breastfeeding was very challenging for both of us. By the time she was four months old, she refused it all together. With my second daughter, I had the same goal. This time I was aware that I'd have to be flexible, in case she, or I, had a tough time breastfeeding, too. But the goal was still there, because it was the ideal.

I was so happy when my baby started breastfeeding within an hour of her birth. She latched right on and seemed to have no problem with it. I was still afraid that I would struggle and feel tied down with breastfeeding, but I was hopeful that this time would be better because the baby seemed to have an easier grasp of the concept. So for the next day and a half, I kept breastfeeding, and she ate with minimal guidance. And then we noticed something that was concerning, and she ended up being sent to another hospital for further testing. She was admitted to the NICU, where they gave me some supplies and instructed me to pump and store my breastmilk. Because of the testing, she couldn't take milk for a few days, and I needed to keep up pumping so I wouldn't lose my supply. By the time the initial testing was completed (which turned out normal), a different serious lifelong medical condition was discovered, and she remained in the NICU for three weeks. At first, doctors told me that because of her medical condition, she may not be able to tolerate breastmilk very well. So they started her on formula. I continued pumping with the hopes that she could get to a point where she could start taking it.

Each day, her blood work showed abnormal levels. There were certain levels that were much higher than normal. With each passing day, her feedings increased, and so did those levels. The doctors said they hoped her levels would eventually stabilize as her body got more adjusted to being outside the womb. But I was scared. One day I did the math, and figured out that if her levels kept going up at the rate they were, her health would be in critical condition within a week. This whole time, I continued pumping milk (every three hours around the clock) and praying that my milk would be the "magic" solution her body needed to improve. I still didn't know if her body would tolerate it, but one afternoon, I asked one of her doctors if she could just try the breastmilk. The doctor immediately got on the phone with her other doctor, and together they decided that she could try my milk. The next morning's blood work didn't show improvement, but the next day, after a full day of my baby consuming only breastmilk, her levels started dropping. They continued dropping until they were much closer to normal. Perhaps it was, at least in part, because her body was adjusting more to life outside the womb, but to me, that was just too coincidental. My milk really seemed to be the "magic" solution she needed. I continued pumping. By the time she left the hospital, she was on breastmilk with a bit of special formula mixed in to help her gain weight. Because she needed that extra formula mixed in, and because there was a possibility I would need to add special medication in the milk later on, I decided to continue pumping milk (instead of having her nurse directly). Within a couple months, there were four things I had to add to the milk. Her levels improved some more.

While she was in the hospital, I made a goal to pump milk for my baby for at least one year. And I did it. I started off pumping for 15 minutes, 7-8 times a day, and I eventually was able to pump for 30 minutes, 4 times a day. After each pumping, I had to wash the 8 pieces of pumping equipment. Each day we (my husband and/or I) emptied 8-10 breastmilk bottles (a day's worth of milk) into a container with the other four things she needed. We washed those 8-10 bottles and lids each day. The whole process of pumping was time-consuming. Everything took careful planning. There were times we wanted to just take off and go somewhere, but first we had to wait half an hour while I pumped. If I was going to be out during a pumping time, or longer than a few hours, I had to bring a portable pump, bottles, and a cooler, and figure out where and when I was going to pump. I also brought a cooler with prepared bottles for my baby wherever I went. She wouldn't drink cold milk, so I always tried to find some hot water to warm the bottle up in.

I had a lot of milk available, as I produced a lot of it, and there were days at the beginning when I pumped, despite her taking very little or no milk at all. When my baby was in the NICU, literally half of my freezer was filled with milk, plus the hospital had milk in their freezer. It's hard to believe, but there was a time when all 116 bottles pictured above were being used. And I am so grateful, because there were times later on when I struggled with my milk supply. I was able to feed my baby the milk I had pumped earlier.

This may seem self-applauding, and well, it is. People announce their music, sports, academic, and professional accomplishments. They have graduation parties and promotion celebrations. This is no different. This was a very hard thing that I worked at every day for a year of my life. I never would have guessed that "Pumped Breastmilk for One Year" would be on my list of great life accomplishments, but it is. Like I said, I know lots of women provide breastmilk for their baby, and many do it for a year or longer. It is challenging whether you nurse or pump. I think all women who accomplish this should get a party. A Post-Breastfeeding Shower. The gifts could consist of new bras, shirts, and purses (to replace the worn-out diaper bag). Perhaps a gift card for a date night when the mother can feel free and be out of the house for more than a couple hours at a time. The food can include salad, spicy snacks, chocolate, and anything else the nursing mother may have had to avoid. I'm not suggesting that everyone should shower me with gifts. (I'm just happy that my baby is doing so well, and I like to think at least part of it is because of all the breastmilk she had.) I'm just saying, Post-Breastfeeding Showers should totally be a thing. There are so many hard, sad things in life. We could use more celebrations. :)

A Different Perspective of Sex

Turn on the radio or TV. Leave your house and go to the store. You'll see that this world we live in is almost saturated with sex. It is seen almost everywhere you look, be it subtle or obvious. It is one of the reasons it's scary to raise children in this world. It's an uncomfortable topic for me, and I don't really like talking about it because sex is personal and sacred, and it is often misused and abused. But I had an experience a while ago that put things into perspective for me, and I want to share that.

I believe that sex is sacred and should be saved for marriage. I believe that the purpose of sex is for the benefit of the relationship of the married couple, and for having children. This is a very different belief from what is considered "normal". When you look around you, you may find that sex is displayed as being only for fun, pleasure, and excitement; something light-hearted; something you can throw around and pass from one person to another. Even with my strong beliefs, it is sometimes hard to remember that sex is sacred and serious when I am confronted with this other view so much.

When my first child was born, she was in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) for one week. Nearly two years ago, my younger daughter made her entrance into this world and spent three weeks in the NICU. It was a large one, with space available for nearly 100 babies. While she was receiving care there, my husband and I spoke with many doctors, nurses, and specialists. One day, one of the doctors was telling us how she was doing, and the doctor said something like, "One thing that makes me hopeful is that she has you guys. She has a good support system." At the time, this was of little comfort to me, as I thought that that was just something they told everyone to try to make them feel better. But I was wrong. That isn't something they could tell everyone. When you're in the NICU, you hear a lot. The babies are situated quite close together to ensure a close eye is being kept on all of them. Also, the waiting room outside of the NICU was small. It was easy to hear of others' situations. I heard about babies of single parents. One new mother was telling someone that her baby's father was unaware of the baby's existence, and that she did not want him to know. It was a bad situation. I have respect for single parents. I know they love their children and they work really hard. I know there are a lot of messy situations you can't foresee. On occasion, harsh realities make it so that a child is better off away from his or her biological mother, father, or both. But that doesn't change the fact that all children deserve to have a mom and a dad, and a good support system.

I remember thinking about this in the NICU one day, when it hit me: This place was a huge deal. There were so many doctors and nurses and hospital workers working around the clock, every single day of the year. There is an unthinkable amount of energy, money, resources, supplies, work, knowledge, prayers, tears, and hope, all put forth in an effort to help, heal, and sustain the lives of our sweet babies. And how did these babies come to be? *Sex. Sex isn't usually something you're thinking about when you visit your sick baby in the midst of many other sick babies. But sex is what made those babies happen. What hit me was how very serious the concept of sex was in that moment (and should always be), and how one's view of sex is so far from the world's view of sex when you have a baby. When a man and a woman have sex, it should be understood that a baby could come from it. Bringing a child into this world, and raising that child, is very serious. Some babies may come to this world healthier than others, but no person is uncomplicated and easy to raise. We are all complex. Every person needs the best support system possible. When people have a casual attitude about sex, and a baby comes from that sex, it's less likely that that baby is going to have as good of a support system as he or she needs and deserves. I know a lot of people would say they aren't going to conceive a baby because of birth control, infertility, or other reasons. But the fact that sex can bring another human being into the world shows how serious and powerful it is, and that you should treat it with care, whether it produces a baby or not.

Whenever I feel bombarded by flippant attitudes about sex, I try to remember how I felt that day in the NICU. I try to think about all the babies. And the people in this world. And I remember that even if people don't treat it how they should, sex is sacred.**


*Some children are brought to this world via artificial insemination, which isn't typically considered sex, but should also be treated with careful consideration of both parents and child. 
**Sacred usually refers to a religious, divine meaning, but it also signifies reverence and respect in general. 

We Need Each Other: The Plastic Bag Analogy

My day-to-day life is full of mundane tasks. The tasks are usually quite boring, but sometimes I receive special insight as I am carrying out these responsibilities.

Some time ago, I was cleaning out the fridge. This is one of my least-favorite chores, and something I do not consider inspiring. Yet, this particular time was different.

When I clean out the fridge, there is usually at least a little bit of rotten food to be disposed of. I put the bad food in plastic grocery bags, which I tie up before I put it in the garbage can. Many of the grocery bags have small holes at the bottom, so I double up the bags so that the rotten food inside does not leak. If I don't see any holes in the bag, I double it up anyway. Doubling the bags also provides extra protection in case something tears or pokes the bag. There may also be unseen holes in the inner bag, and even if there aren't any, the bag alone may not be strong enough to hold its load without breaking. Even if the outer bag has holes, it can help support the inner bag.

(This is a much more detailed description of my cleaning-out-the-fridge technique than I ever thought I'd give. But the description is necessary to make sense of the insight I gained from it.)

And now the inspiration: I suddenly realized that people are like these plastic grocery bags. Sound weird? I know. But hear me out.

We all have burdens we carry (much like the plastic grocery bags). Burdens that are undesirable. Depression, pain, heartache, sickness, loss, betrayal, frustration, fear, loneliness, and hopelessness are all burdens that feel downright awful. They're burdens that we all have or will have at some point. Many people have visible holes, or weaknesses. Others appear to be strong and have their lives all together, but are actually stretched thin and feeling very weak and vulnerable inside.

It is important to provide help and support to one another. Be there for others, whether it appears they need help or not. Help them carry their burdens so they don't break (body and/or spirit). If we are always supporting each other, we are stronger when something tears or pokes us, threatening to break us. Don't be afraid to ask for help when your burden seems so heavy, and don't be afraid to jump in and help another. Even a person with a lot of weaknesses can support and strengthen another. Two people, each with their own inevitable weaknesses, together can carry more than two people individually.

The Barbie Hype

I've heard some things in the past from those who oppose Barbie dolls. They don't like them because they think that Barbie is an impossible ideal of beauty that is ruining the self-esteem of girls around the world. Now there is a new doll, the Lammily. It is similar to a Barbie doll, but it's supposed to represent the looks and proportions of the "average" woman.

I know many disagree, but I think people have gotten carried away with this Barbie hype. I played with Barbie dolls a lot growing up. I loved Barbie. I owned many dolls and Barbie accessories. However, I never felt insecure about myself or my looks because of the way my Barbie dolls looked. I always knew that Barbie was a toy. I knew that no one had the looks or proportions of Barbie because she is a fake character. She isn't totally realistic, and she didn't have to be. When I played, and when most kids play, we're in a fantasy world. It's nice to play with characters you can relate to, but they don't have to be lifelike.

I don't think the creation of these new dolls are going to solve all the problems some people think they are. If someone wants to create a new doll, that's fine. But, as I've heard before, there is a problem with the premises of this particular doll. The creator claims to have formed the new dolls based on scientific studies of what the "average" woman looks like. Yes, the doll is more realistic-looking than Barbie, but if people really think Barbie caused bad feelings and insecurities, this new doll will cause problems, too. To my knowledge, the creators of Barbie never claimed Barbie was supposed to have realistic proportions. Now we have the Lammily, which is supposed to represent the average woman. What if the girls who play with them don't think they look as good as this doll? Wouldn't they feel bad if they think they can't measure up to "average"? If self-image is really based on a doll, the Lammily isn't going to do much better than Barbie. 

If people want to help girls' self-image, perhaps they can put their energy towards changing the way women are portrayed in magazines and television. Those women are altered and air-brushed and tucked and pinned and then presented as if that's the way they normally look with minimal effort. They are actual human beings, whose images are altered and then presented as realistic bodies. That bothers me a lot more than how Barbie dolls look.

A better way to help girls' self-esteem is to focus on the accomplishments and amazing things women do. Talk about the amazing works of all women-women of all shapes, sizes, proportions, and colors. Talk about people in terms of the good things they can accomplish, instead of focusing on what they look like. So go ahead- make dolls and toys of all proportions and designs. Buy the ones you like. Let children know that most toys aren't totally realistic. Then let them play and use their imaginations.

The Problem with "You think it's hard now? Just wait...."

I recently heard a woman talk about her struggles as a mother of several teenagers. She said that having teenagers is so hard for her. She said that having several kids ages five and under-that was easy.

As a mother of two children ages five and under, there are few things more discouraging than being told that this very hard time I'm going through is "easy". I mean, really? Was it really easy? At that time, when she was going through it, was it easy? Surely she's forgotten the hard parts, right? And if not, if having teenagers is really so much harder than having small children to the point that being a mother of small children is "easy" in comparison, well, that just makes me want to sob in a corner and give up. Don't get me wrong. I chose this life. I love my children, and I love being their mother. I wouldn't have it any other way. I am sure the woman I mentioned feels the same about her children. But raising children of any age is hard, and all parents need support and encouragement, not fear and hopelessness. 

This is an example of something I've noticed a lot in the past few years. People like to point out how much worse or harder life is going to get. I remember it happening from a young age. In elementary school, I was told how middle school is so much harder. In high school, I was told that those were the best days of my life and that someday I would be begging to go back. In college, I remember being told, "You think you're stressed and busy now? Just wait. It gets worse." When I was pregnant and not sleeping well because of discomfort and waking frequently to use the bathroom? Just wait 'til the baby's born, then you'll know sleep deprivation. When I had my first baby? Oh, how nice that you can sleep when the baby sleeps because there's no other child to keep you up. And now, with two small children? Just wait 'til they're moody teenagers. Having a hard day wresting my tantrum-throwing toddler and taking care of a sick baby? Enjoy it now, because they'll be grown up and moved out before you know it. 

Really, the list is endless. I've heard so many things along those lines. I've even caught myself doing this from time to time. I remember when my sister was telling me how nice it will be when she's out of college and will have the steady income of a full-time job. I snapped back with something like, "Oh, it doesn't get any better! You'll get a steady income, but then you'll get so many more bills!" I think I was reacting to my own personal experiences at the moment. I realized my mistake immediately, apologized, and said that yes, it is nice to have a steady, full-time income, even if I do have more bills to pay now.

Maybe people are reacting with their emotions and personal experiences (like I did) when they say or imply, "Just wait...It gets worse." Maybe they think they're being helpful, preparing others for the future. Maybe they think it helps people put their current situations into perspective and be grateful it isn't worse (yet). But in reality, it isn't helpful at all. It is very discouraging. Some forewarning may be helpful in some cases. But in general, telling someone, "Just wait [for something harder]," is disheartening. It makes the recipient of such "advice" feel stupid, weak, and childish. I've found that this "advice" is often inaccurate, as well. People tend to have a selective memory. When we have a hard time, we like to remember back in the good ol' days when certain things were better or easier. In reality, just about all phases of life are filled with both good and bad.

People also don't take into account the growth and wisdom that comes from time and experience. I know having teenagers is hard; I have no delusions about that. But that doesn't mean having small children is easy, and it doesn't mean you have to rub it in someone's face even if you believe it is. It's not really fair to do that to people. We don't approach 2nd-graders struggling with math and tell them, "Just wait. This is nothing. College is so much harder. The classes are insane. You'll always be tired and stressed and you never really finish homework because there's so much of it to do." Of course we don't tell them that because, even though college is hard, we don't want to overwhelm them when they still have a lot of learning and growth to go through before they get to that level. Having teenagers is hard, yes, but first let me figure out how to take care of a newborn, then a toddler, then a preschooler, and so on. Don't burden me with "life just gets harder" when I'm already at my wits' end.

People need to feel validated. We need to know there are others who understand our struggles. We need people who can point out the good things but also sympathize and encourage and strengthen when life is hard. Let's have less discouragement and more compassion!

Motherhood and Fulfillment

Today I read this article. It made me think about how I feel about the subject. It's something I've actually been struggling with for quite some time.   

I have wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember. When I was younger, I couldn't wait to get married, have a home of my own, and have littles of my own. It was a dream of mine, and I felt that was what I was made for. Now I have a home of my own, a husband I love, and two daughters I adore. There are a lot of pressures in our society and our cultures surrounding motherhood. There is a "supermom" expectation, a mom who can "do it all" with a smile on her face.

I discovered some things about myself when I became a mother, that goes against the "supermom" ideal. I dislike reading about 95% of children's books. I do not like to plan, prepare, and cook meals. If I home-schooled my children, I think we would all pull our hair out. I have a surprisingly low tolerance for participating in children's songs, games, movies, and TV shows. I love my family, so I still do all those things, albeit less often than others. I just wish I enjoyed those activities more. But my girls and I like to listen to music on the radio and have dance parties. I like to make bows and little-girl dresses, and we all like crafts. I may not like cooking, but we like to eat yummy things together. We like going to the zoo. I'm content with all the "supermom" qualities I do or don't have. I know moms don't have to meet some impossible societal ideal to be a good mom.

I have always heard so many people say that motherhood is the best and most fulfilling thing you can ever do. I've heard it from religious leaders, and I've heard many friends talk about how absolutely fulfilled they feel as a mother. Well, here's my confession: I don't feel fulfilled. I have agonized over this. I feel like a terrible mom and a terrible person that I don't feel fulfilled in what is said to be the greatest, most noble thing I can possibly do in my life. I know being a mom is very important. I know raising my children to be good, righteous, productive, happy people is the most important thing I can be doing right now. (I'm not saying this is what everyone should be doing right now; just speaking for myself, in my own life situation.) I love my children so much and worry about them so much, my heart aches. I love being their mom. I am able to stay home with my children, and I feel that it is best for my family right now for me to do so. My feelings have nothing to do with how other people feel about mothers, or how they feel about mothers staying at home with their children. I have not really been able to figure out why I feel like this.

When I read the article mentioned above, it occurred to me that maybe it's not motherhood I am feeling unfulfilled with, maybe it's my life right now as a whole. Maybe there is something in addition to mothering that I can, or should, be doing right now. Maybe it's ok to develop myself in other ways. There are more things I want to learn. I like to write. I love art, and I'd like to learn to paint. I'd like to learn to cut hair and maybe develop some woodworking skills. I think I'd like Zumba. I'd love to learn to dance more. I'd like to learn some of these things with my husband. There are many other things I'd like to learn and do in my life. I know some people may say that now is not the time or season for me to do anything except be a wife and mom. But I disagree. True, I will not be able to completely focus on other things (outside of my family) at this time in my life. I can, but I just wouldn't. Wifehood and Motherhood is top priority right now, and it takes up the vast majority of my time. Some people have large families and/or truly love cooking meals, reading stories, teaching math and reading, keeping a clean house, and singing Disney songs every day at the top of their lungs with their children. So literally all their time and thoughts and energy go into those things. I applaud those people. Your service is admirable and tremendous. I used to think I'd be one of you. A lot of times, I wish I was. But I am who I am, and I'm learning to evolve and become a better version of myself. And maybe that means developing myself in ways that have nothing to do with my children. But I suspect that when I do, it will make me a better person, a better and happier mom, and I may share some of the things I learn with my children. I may even be able to use some of those things in the service of my children.

My Hard-of-Hearing Life

I am hard-of-hearing. I have a moderate-to-severe hearing loss in both ears. In one ear, certain pitches have to be as loud as a freight train for me to hear it as well as most people do. I wear hearing aids and I generally get along well. I am blessed with parents who handled my disability quite well. They did everything they could to ensure I lived a happy life and had the opportunities that I needed. As a child, I felt normal. I would see someone with serious physical difficulties and think something like, "I'm so grateful I don't have any physical challenges," and then would realize, "Wait...I do...I'm short." Yes, it's pathetic that I would consider a mild height abnormality to be a true physical challenge. But that just goes to show how I thought of my disability. I felt normal enough to forget I had it at times. But it affected my life a lot. It still does. My parents taught me to stand up for myself and to be able to function with this disability in the real world. Because as much as we'd like to think that society, the government, and technology can fix everything and make everything fair, they can't.

Some people are surprised when they find out I'm hard-of-hearing. And I admit I take a little pride in that surprise. I like to think that I've overcome this trial, at least in reference to how I function and live my life. But in truth, it's hard.

There are a lot of consequences of hearing impairment. The most obvious is that I can't hear as well as other people. I have to ask people to repeat what they say. Sometimes I have to ask so much, it gets embarrassing, and everyone gets frustrated, so I just smile and nod.

Hearing impairment is a mostly invisible disability. Even with hearing aids in your ears, people can't always tell that you're hard-of-hearing. When I was in college, I walked to my classes. Every so often, someone on a bike would whiz past me, missing me by inches, then look back and glare at me. I never understood that until one day, my roommate was walking with me and told me that those cyclists (illegally riding on the sidewalks, by the way) would shout out a warning and expect the people in front of them to move out of their way. I never heard those warnings. I am afraid there are other times when people might think I am being rude by "ignoring" them, when I actually can't hear them.

Hearing aids help, but they don't make hearing perfect. Hearing aids don't filter out unwanted noise as well as natural hearing can. When I am in a noisy room, it's like there are microphones placed throughout the room, and all of those microphones are fed into my hearing aids. I can't hear what people are saying across the room; everything just comes in as noise. So even though proximity makes the people right by me slightly easier to hear than others in the room, there is so much noise coming in, it makes it very difficult to hear and figure out what they are saying. The microphone metaphor isn't perfect, but it's the best thing I can come up with to explain how I can't block out, or ignore, background noise very well. For more about what hearing aids are like, read a previous post: http://ashbelle.blogspot.com/2010/01/ears.html

Many people with hearing loss learn to lipread. I taught myself to lipread at a young age, and I still partially rely on it. A lot of people cover their mouth or turn away when they're speaking to you. A fellow hard-of-hearing (former) classmate of mine once told me her own story with lipreading: She was walking beside someone who was talking to her. She had her head turned, lipreading as she was walking. Because of this, she didn't see where she was going and walked right into a pole. She wanted to explain that she wasn't ditzy; she walked into a pole because she was hard-of-hearing. But that doesn't make sense to people. And here's another issue with lipreading: you're watching someone's mouth. That looks weird. When I was a teenager, I loved going to church dances. Most guys I danced with wanted to talk, and because the music was loud, I heavily depended on lipreading. I was always self-conscious of what this looked like. I'm dancing with a guy and watching his mouth. He might think he had something stuck in his teeth. I was more nervous that he thought I wanted to kiss him or something. Fortunately, if anyone ever thought that, they never tried anything.

Hearing loss makes for some other awkward social experiences. When I was younger, a guy came up to me and asked me, "How are you?" Well, it was loud in the room, and I thought he asked, 'How old are you?', and so I answered, "Fifteen." It was only after he gave me a strange look and walked away that I realized what he really said, and being fifteen, I was embarrassed.

While I was growing up, I was quiet and shy, at least at school. My hearing loss didn't help. I desperately wanted to comment in conversations, but I missed so much of it. I was afraid I would say something someone already said, and afraid I misheard something. I couldn't exactly say, "Ok, all ten of you at this lunch table: can everyone talk louder? Because I can't hear." I didn't want so many people to bend over backwards for me, and even if they did, they'd be yelling their personal conversations. Sometimes I would just tune out a conversation altogether because I had to strain to hear what people said, and that gets exhausting after a while.

On a lighter side, my ears hear some pretty funny things. For example, when my husband and I were new to an area, we didn't know people's names yet, so we used descriptions instead. In one instance, my husband referred to a man as "the one with the slicked-back hair." I heard "the one with the slick back-hair." Yikes.

Many of these kinds of things happen to everyone from time to time. But for the hard-of-hearing, it happens all the time. However, I realize I am very blessed. It could be worse, and it is worse for many people. Hearing aids help me tremendously. I live in a time when, although things aren't perfect, people are much more accepting and accommodating of this disability. (It really wasn't that long ago when terrible things were done in an attempt to "make" the hard-of-hearing hear better.) I was able to learn to play the flute in school, and I still enjoy doing so. I got a good education. I have used my experiences with this disability in ways I never imagined I would.

Let's be more aware and understanding! I hope that we can all try to be more compassionate with each other, disability or no disability. We're all struggling with something, and it is often something invisible. I hope that I, and everyone, can be kinder and less quick to judge.