2010 June | A Deaf Mom Shares Her World

Goodbye to Chicago Moms Blog, Hello to The Chicago Moms

For the last two years, I have been writing for the Chicago Moms Blog, a network of blogs owned by the Silicon Valley Moms group. When I first came across the blog almost three years ago, I said to myself, “I want to write for them someday!” The blog network included Katie Couric from the New York Moms blog.

That someday came when Beth Blecherman, the co-founder, responded to a comment that I left on a disability blog post that she wrote and she sent me an email. “Your blog is fantastic and inspirational,” she wrote.

And… would I like to write for the SV Valley Moms network, she asked.

Of course, the answer was yes. My first post was “When Your Only Option is a Thong.” As a result of that post, I’ve endured countless thong jokes and every now and then Vicki slings me a thong virtually on Twitter. No amount of money will entice me to wear a thong. Ever. Again.

The Chicago Moms Blog gave me the opportunity to have three of my posts syndicated in newspapers around the country. To have a post selected for syndication was quite an honor, as only a few posts were selected from the many posts each week.

I also had the opportunity to connect with the Chicago Moms at several area events, including a special meetup of the Chicago Moms:

In a surprising turn of events, we learned that the Chicago Moms Blog and the entire network of SV Moms would no longer be active. It was a heartbreaking announcement for everyone. Out of sad news came good news: The Chicago Moms website was born.

Stay tuned! I’ll still be around as a Chicago Mom and will continue to write. I promise not to sling any thongs on the new site.

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Embracing My Deaf Self

It is eleven o’clock at night and my house is filled with the sound of eight teenagers sitting around my family room chatting and laughing. Some of them are signing, some of them are animatedly talking. Some of them are deaf, some are hard of hearing and two of them have hearing in the normal range. Three of them are mine and all three have hearing aids perched in their ears. My youngest sports colorful earmolds with red, white and blue swirls. I’ve got a pair of blue earmolds with sparkles shining out from under my dark hair.

As I watch the kids talk excitedly about some silly photo on Facebook, I’m thinking back to my own teen years. My summers as a teen were spent hiding the fact that I couldn’t hear. As soon as the school year ended in the late spring, my lone hearing aid was placed on a ledge and never touched until the first day of school in the fall. I spent my summers with a great group of friends, many who knew just what to do to make communication happen between us. I depended a lot on my lipreading skills to piece together conversations. It was the casual group gatherings that had me bluffing my way through conversations because it was next to impossible to lipread the many lips that were speaking at the same time.

Then there was the stigma of being different, of standing out. I tried hard not to stand out, instead trying everything I could to blend in and be “one of them.”

My life changed in an instant the summer I was nineteen. I was barefooting behind the boat, practicing wake crossing. As my feet skimmed across the water, my foot caught the edge of the wake and I slammed into the water. There was no time to do a normal tuck and roll, something I had done many times before. When I climbed into the boat, I tried to shake the water out of my ears. Everything sounded muffled–lips moved but there wasn’t the usual sound to match with it.

It wasn’t until many days later that I realized that I had become deaf.

My life took an interesting turn at that point. Once the grief subsided and I dried the tears, I entered a new world filled with deaf and hard of hearing people. It wasn’t easy– because I had spent the previous 19 years of my life hiding my hearing aid and feeling quite uncomfortable with anything that reminded me that I was “different.” It took awhile for me to learn American Sign Language and get to the point that I embraced a deaf identity. Once I did, there was an amazing transformation in my life: Yes, I am deaf and gosh-darn-it, that’s perfectly ok.

One by one, my own kids began to lose their hearing and soon our lives were filled with hearing aids, IEPs, signing, speech therapy and other families with deaf and hard of hearing kids. I do see the same struggles to understand everything being said around them, but I also see that my kids are growing up with a very different attitude than I had–they’re comfortable with themselves, assertive in getting their communication needs met… and they don’t hide their hearing aids. They have access to texting, interpreters, captioning, videophones and more. They’re growing up with deaf and hard of hearing role models– something that I didn’t have access to.

I came across a quote on Twitter recently that perfectly sums up what I wish I had known when I was growing up:

Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out? –Unknown

Originally published on Chicago Moms Blog.

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Breathe

Breathe.

Have you ever found yourself going through life so fast that you’re holding your breath? That’s how I found myself last week after six days of travel, eye surgery and running kids here and there. I flew to Florida, came home, went to the doc, and then off to Milwaukee for the HLAA conference. I came home to news that my mom had gotten into a car accident–she ended up in a ditch with the wheel off and the front end totaled–and thankfully ok. On Sunday, the boys went in two different directions to two different camps. By the time we dropped the last kid off, we realized we weren’t going to make it to the family dinner an hour and half away.

Breathe.

I received a letter this week from Ron, a high school friend of mine. He is a retired Navy deep sea diver. He is teaching me the mechanics about scuba diving in his letters and we plan to go scuba diving next year. One of the most important things to remember when underwater is simply this:

Breathe.

Because you know what happens when you hold your breath underwater while scuba diving? The pressure increases and if it increases too much at one point, the lungs go “ka-boom.”

Breathe.

A new friend reminded me of this. As I sat at the car rental place waiting for Joe to pick me up, I quieted my mind and focused on breathing. How easy it is to forget that simple thing that gives us energy and sustains our bodies.

I thought back to Steven’s birth. I learned about hypnobirthing while I was pregnant and taught myself the technique. It involves putting yourself in a special place, deep breathing, affirmations and changing your attitude and thought process. Fourteen hours of labor, while intense at times, was a calm experience thanks to this approach. I realized that I used it last week at the doctor’s office, and the minute that the procedure was over, I went back into “spinning life” mode, racing home to finish up work.

Breathe.

A friend of mine asked me how to achieve more balance in life. I busted out laughing. I’m the last person to ask for that advice, I told her. Ask me in thirty years.

But you know what? The answer is really simple one, as my new friend reminds me:

Breathe.

And remember to love yourself and others in the process. Because that’s what life is all about. Nothing else matters.

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ZVRS and Barefooting, Crammed in Two Days

I arrived at the World Barefoot Center on Sunday evening in time to have dinner with Swampy, Lauren Lindeman and a great group of younger skiers from all over the world, including A. J. Porreca, a 17-year-old barefooter from Willowbrook, Il who is featured on the cover of Water Skier magazine. After a great dinner, I headed back to the Z Team home that I was staying at.

At the ZVRS headquarters, we filmed a VCO Plus video all day. Because Ann Marie Mickelson and I are no actresses, we ended up with a lot of shots for the blooper file. Hollywood will not be calling us soon. Nonetheless, we had a blast and after the first half hour of filming, we kicked off our shoes. Roger Vass put me on a cardboard platform so that Ann Marie wouldn’t tower over me. I begged Roger to airbrush 30 pounds off of me but no amount of money could convince him.

Joined the Z Team for dinner:

Then I went for a walk on the beach at dusk and stayed out until it was pitch black. Just a sliver of the moon and a bright star shone in the sky. Turned off the hearing aids and walked in dead silence– every now and then it’s nice to tune out and just enjoy the visual stuff. The house I was staying at was a few steps from the beach.

Yesterday morning, we finished up some filming and I had this awful urge to go barefooting. I paged A. J. Albrecht, who also works for ZVRS as a Z Specialist and asked him if he was available for the afternoon. I’m working the HLAA conference the next four days and Texas the weekend after, so I figured I could play hooky for the afternoon. The only catch– he was two hours away. Did I really want to drive four hours in one afternoon?

Heck yeah.

And I’m glad I did. A. J. and I had an amazing afternoon on the water. I started off on the boom, back to the basics. Get up, sit back down on the water, get up again. Over and over. Here’s A. J. showing me what to do:

I asked A. J. to teach me how to barefoot on one foot — something that eluded me as a teen. Every time I would lift a foot, I’d end up face first in the water. Kicking off a ski was tough for me.

My first attempt ended in a face plant.

Here we go again, I thought.

My second attempt ended in success– I shifted my weight and lifted my foot up! Did a couple more of those and rode a little longer to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. That felt good! The last several weeks at the gym, I practiced balancing on one foot and I guess that paid off.

I switched places with A. J. and drove while he showed me his stuff. He jumped out of the boat on to the boom while I drove– take a look:

The next trick– a backwards deep water start and then he got up barefooting backwards, then flipped around from a back-to-front:

A. J. is a master on the chair ski/hydrofoil, I was in awe of all the flips he can do. Take a look:

I worked on the deep water start on the five-foot extension off the boom and had no problem getting up each time. I moved to the back of the boat on the long line and out of five attempts, I got up once for a short run and promptly landed face first again. The long line continues to be a battling beast for me. A. J. turned around to take a picture and of course, I crashed at that moment:

When we finished, a storm was brewing so I went back to the boom and practiced skiing in rough water back to the landing. We pulled the boat out and covered it just as it began to pour.

I hit the road back to Tampa and sat in the airport until ten p.m. Needless to say, I conked out on the plane. I sure hope my snoring didn’t bother anyone.

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Life on Spin Cycle

I looked at my calendar the other day and sighed. The entire summer is booked solid between work, conferences, travel and the kid’s activities. When the kids were little, summer used to stretch out before us like an idle odyssey. I remember when the biggest event of the day was dragging out the swimming pool and filling it up for the toddlers to splash in. My neighbors, Barb and Denise, would bring their kids over and we’d sit in the backyard and chat for hours. Some days, we would order pizza and sit out and talk until the bugs drove us inside.

Barb moved away to California and the kids are now teens. Denise and I both work from home, so we try and grab a gab session here and there, but our visits are far too few lately.

I don’t know how this happened, but life has ramped up to spin cycle.

Like a washing machine, it started out so slowly that I almost didn’t notice it. I picked up one part-time job, then a full-time job– added a book club, another women’s group, a couple of writing assignments and then volunteer work. To top it off, I started writing a book.

And like the washing machine, I found myself smack dab in the middle of spin cycle and wondering how to hit the “off” button. The problem with going around and around in a circle is that you can’t stop yourself. You’re spinning so fast that you’re glued to the walls of the machine. The thing is, if you don’t get out of spin cycle, eventually something is going to wear out and stop working.

I stuck my hand out recently to try and stop the spin. Sitting in my inbox was an invitation to a committee that three years I ago, I would have jumped at to be involved in. After a lot of thought, I graciously said no and actually felt good about it. I also said no to some volunteer activities and some other requests for my time.

Unfortunately, my calendar is still booked for the summer and there isn’t much I can do about what I’ve committed to. Work has to be done, the kids have to be driven here or there, and there’s the graduations and weddings to attend. Fortunately, I’ve booked in some fun, some barefooting and some enjoyable writing.

Now I just have to figure out how to slow the spin down to a gentle tumble.

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I Married a Good Man

I was sitting in the car repair shop this morning with my laptop on a table, getting ready to join a meeting using the Z4 videophone. Two ladies sat nearby and one of them began talking to me. I looked up and said, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear what you said, I’m deaf.”

She laughed and pointed to the hearing aids perched in her ear. “I am too, she said with a smile.” The other lady scooted over and we began talking about videophones and webcams and I showed them the Z4 from ZVRS and explained my job. The lady with the hearing aids had to leave and I continued to chat with the other lady.

“I’m Sally Goodman,” she said. “I like to tell people that I married a good man.”

I laughed.

“Well, I’m Karen Putz,” I said. “I usually tell people that I married a putz.”

She let out a big a laugh.

We talked and found some neat connections between us. Her husband is hard of hearing and her brother-in-law and several other relatives are deaf and hard of hearing. Her daughter is an author of several books, and currently working on a non-fiction book. Her great-grandfather founded the town of Battle Creek, Michigan.

She asked me if I was born deaf and I explained the deaf gene in my family and how I went from hard of hearing to deaf after a fall while barefoot waterskiing. She shared her story of being diagnosed with MS twenty years ago and how she worked her way out of a wheelchair and back into great health again. We exchanged emails and a hug before parting ways.

I’m always amazed at the folks that I cross paths with in daily life– I know these are not just chance encounters, but interactions that are rich with learning and growth.

Every day, that circle of life just grows bigger and bigger.

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Happy Birthday, Dave!

Eighteen years ago in August, my life changed. I know you’re mentally calculating and saying, “Wait a minute, David just turned seventeen today, what’s this about eighteen years ago?” I know my friend Sue is reading this with a smile, because she got pregnant on the same night that I did and we always laugh at the memory. Ok, so technically it was nine months before today, but you get the idea.

David and Sue’s son, Alex, were born exactly a week apart, down to the exact minute of their birth. Alex arrived first, and I went nuts for an entire week waiting for David to make his arrival into the world. David was born by cesarean, thanks to a doctor who I suspect was simply impatient to get back to his rounds. I ended up with an allergic reaction to the epidural and broke out in hives, which the doctor blamed on the hospital sheets. It wasn’t until I had the same reaction to Lauren’s birth and a different doctor, that we realized the epidural medicine was the cause.

As a kiddo, David was my Energizer Bunny, and I’m always so thankful that he was my first born because I had the energy back then to keep up with him. Both Grandmas often handed him back with a sigh after babysitting him, they were exhausted just chasing him around. I can remember many battles of stuffing him in his car seat and hoping that he’d stay in one place but only to turn around and find him dancing in the back of the van. I can’t even begin to count the many times that I lost him in the mall while shopping with Sue. Alex would be sitting contentedly in his stroller and we’d have to take off yet again to hunt for David.

In the photo above, we had just returned home from the hospital after getting six stitches. David was riding around on Joe’s back and fell off. He landed kaput into the corner of a Lego model that he had just put together.

When Lauren came along, David was the ultimate big brother. He did everything with his sister in tow. I think one of the reasons he likes to cook today is because we spent so much time making cookies and brownies just to keep him in one place for a few minutes. The most memorable moment was the time that he and Lauren ran their crayons all over the kitchen wall and the day that he threw a brand new book into the bathtub.

By the time Steven came along, David was the helpful older brother and the Energizer battery started to wind down a little bit. I say just a “little bit,” because he would still do stuff that would make my hair stand on end, like the time that he put the slide on top of the picnic table so that he could “get a better ride into the pool.”

So Happy Birthday to my seventeen-year-old– I cannot believe that you are just one year away from being an adult and soon to fly off to college. It’s been seventeen amazing years and I’m looking forward to watching you grow even more.

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Goodbye to Chicago Moms Blog, Hello to The Chicago Moms

Embracing My Deaf Self

Breathe

ZVRS and Barefooting, Crammed in Two Days

Life on Spin Cycle

I Married a Good Man

Happy Birthday, Dave!

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