Amazingly, Linda could manage to pull Sophie out of her dark moods most of the time. ‘Does she have these mood swings very often?’ she asked.
‘Not really,’ I replied, brushing it away. But when I thought about it, I could see Sophie’s dark moments were occurring more and more frequently.
At our next therapy session in Houston, Linda took out a picture storybook, Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Sophie began looking at the pictures. Linda said in her strong clear voice, ‘There are three bears!’
Sophie lip-read and repeated, ‘Eee ber.’
‘Mama Bear, Papa Bear, Baby Bear!’ Linda continued with an enticing expression while pointing at the characters in the storybook. Then she asked me to repeat for Sophie, ‘Mama Bear, Papa Bear, Baby Bear!’ This was so Sophie could understand the game by copying Linda and me.
Sophie repeated: ‘Ma-ma, Ba-ba, ber.’
Linda then continued to speak in a singsong tone: ‘Mama has a pretty dress!’ I jumped in to repeat, ‘Mama has a pretty dress!’
Sophie just nodded and started pointing again: ‘Ma-ma, Ba-ba, ber.’ At this point she decided to pick her nose and grab the sleeve of my navy shirt to wipe off her snot. I ignored it. What else was I going to do?
Linda bent over with laughter at my embarrassment, then continued. ‘Mama has a pretty dress.’
‘Mama has a pretty dress!’ I said, mimicking Linda’s rhythm, pointing to the picture.
Sophie looked at the picture, then to Linda and then to me. She slowly put her head down, almost seeming to be stuck, and mumbled with a confused expression, ‘Hamamem . . .’
‘Mama has a pretty dress,’ I said again, pointing with each syllable. Sophie looked at the book and then looked at me. ‘Can’t you say that, Sophie?’ I was starting to feel that panic and frustration when things weren’t progressing as fast as I’d like.
‘The bear’s house,’ Linda read on, turning to another picture. Sophie just nodded.
‘Goldilocks,’ Linda said. Sophie repeated, ‘Goo’oo.’ She was catching on!
‘Little girl,’ said Linda, pointing.
‘Liee irr,’ Sophie repeated.
‘The bears went outside!’ Linda read with excitement. Sophie nodded, but didn’t say it back.
‘The bears went outside,’ Linda repeated.
‘Ber ooi’e,’ Sophie finally responded.
‘Good, Sophie!’ Linda encouraged her.
Linda was an incredible teacher. She was inspirational and dynamic. I was amazed at how she could get Sophie to sit there for an hour paying attention to the lesson. And after six months, I thought I could see progress.
I really felt that something was happening for Sophie, and it made me think harder about her schooling. While it was crucial that Sophie keep up her therapy, she also needed to socialise. Schooling was a good opportunity for her to learn to do that. One day as I was walking Sophie to her morning kindergarten class, I looked through the window at the eight deaf children, several of whom had additional disabilities as well. None of them could speak. All were just making random sounds. This was the oral method that focused on lip-reading, not training the auditory memory. My instinct was that this wasn’t going to be the right environment for Sophie in the longer term, as how was that going to help her develop language? Suddenly everything became clear. Sophie is not going to be one of those children, I said to myself determinedly. You are going to be a successful deaf child who speaks, even if it kills me.
I knew in my gut what had to happen next. ‘Li, Sophie’s been at the kinder for six months now, and I can see it’s not right for her,’ I said.
‘Why is that, darling? I thought she was going well.’
‘She needs to be socialising in the hearing world, don’t you see? How will she ever progress if she’s only with other deaf children? I want to switch kinder.’
‘Won’t that be confusing for her though, Mary?’
‘Well, the alternative is that she lives an institutionalised life, and we don’t want that for her.’
‘No, of course not. You know I trust you on everything when it comes to Sophie. You’re her mother and there’s no one who knows her better.’
Regardless of any differences we may have, Li and I always end up on the same page eventually and come to a decision together. Although HSDC was a caring environment for Sophie, it was time for her to move to a mainstream kindergarten. I took Sophie with her bulky hearing aids to an interview at the new kindergarten. She smiled at Sophie. ‘Hello, Sophie. It’s nice to meet you. When is your birthday?’ she asked straightaway.
Sophie just sat in her chair, then she looked at me, lost. My heart sank. She had no idea what the principal had said. She couldn’t possibly have answered that one simple question. That’s when I knew immediately that this woman didn’t understand and was not going to be able to support Sophie and her needs. I couldn’t bear to see Sophie being so vulnerable. I’d walked in with high hopes only to walk out crying. Sophie grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze, looking up into my face with a confused and worried expression. She was very perceptive, particularly about me, but life was so often unexplainable to her.
However, I was still determined. I approached the next school on my list, one that prided itself on developing leadership skills and high academic results. I had contacted them and explained Sophie’s deafness and they were happy to take her into their kindergarten program. I believed it would work well for our daughter. Unfortunately, this school didn’t work out either. Sophie was often miserable when I picked her up and this made me unhappy. Her teacher wasn’t communicative and I realised the difference between a speech therapist and a classroom teacher.
The fact of the matter was that Sophie couldn’t go to school without me. So back to half-days at HSDC she went, while I contemplated the next move.
I lay in bed that night reflecting on all that had been happening in the past year. The idea of the cochlear implant had popped up now and then and had me thinking. This new invention was highly controversial in the deaf community and with experts alike. But I refused to dismiss it completely. What if it could work for Sophie? I learned that it was an Australian invention made by Professor Graeme Clark. It was an electronic device with a curled metal rod that was inserted into the cochlear, in the inner ear. Unlike hearing aids, which amplify natural sounds, the metal rod would connect via a magnet externally, sending electrical signals directly onto the auditory nerve, which are then processed in the brain as artificial sound. I couldn’t find any published research, but I heard that specialists were just starting to implant children as well as adults in the US. It would only take place if the deafness was so profound that hearing aids didn’t help, and they would only implant one ear.
I decided to ask Linda about it, as I trusted her to be honest. ‘Linda, what are your thoughts on Sophie having a cochlear implant?’ I asked her at our next session. ‘Do you think it would help her?’
She stopped what she was doing with Sophie and looked up at me. ‘Mary, personally I think the cochlear implant is a revolutionary device,’ she replied. ‘But as you know, it’s very new. It’s something you and Li are going to have to decide for yourselves, regardless of what I think.’