The Scryer ✔️

~Blue~

The first year of my son's life was spent in and out of hospitals, doctor's and specialists' offices for various testing. After having ventured to Hershey more extensive testing, we received a final diagnosis that Alexander is deaf; otherwise, he was a perfectly healthy baby boy. Even though everyone was quick to tell us that his condition wasn't our fault, both John and I felt responsible...I mean, how could we not? They told us that he was a candidate for the cochlear implant. When we inquired about the success rate, we learned that it was very high at ninety-five percent, especially if the procedure was done at his age and while it was an expensive procedure, it was covered by John's medical plan from work...we didn't even have to think about it for a second: we said yes and scheduled his procedure for a month away...it was the soonest we could have it done.

We were set up with a coordinator who specialized in early intervention programs and then a specialist who works specifically with babies. The Pediatric Audiologist and Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist worked very close together with our family doctor to help or son...I still thank God every day for them.

John pulled his shoulder-length hair back into a piglet-tail and removed Alex from the car seat, shielding his eyes from the bright sun as he held him close. Despite pulling his hair back, John's sunglasses had been removed by our son and were being banged against his father's chest as he held his stuffed horse in his other hand, the toy's stuffed hoof in his mouth...how the child got that out of his diaper bag was anyone's guess? I watched my husband's eyes roll as he shook his head, a half smile gracing his handsome face. John removed the toy from Alexander's mouth and grumbled a low growl when our son grabbed it from his hand and hit him in the face with the slimy hoof. Alex laughed, and John groaned, telling our son that he didn't understand what the hell was so funny. After he placed the baby in his high chair, he plopped into one of the kitchen chairs and held his head in his hands, looking as forlorn as I'd ever seen anyone look.

I asked John to stand up and the way he looked at me was like I had suddenly grown three heads.

"What?"

"Just do it? Please?"

John sighed as he stood and sort of half-glared at me. I asked him to make that noise again...the low grumbling one...that I wanted to check something, I told him. He huffed and made the low noise as my palm rested on his chest. I smiled. Then I asked him to do it again as I placed my cheek against his chest, specifically my ear. Right after he did it again, I rubbed my ear.

It tickled.

Our son liked the low rumbling sounds...this was why he was became so giddy whenever thunderstorms came through...the vibrations tickled his body and it was why he would "sing" in gibberish along to them. I had looked up information on classical conditioning and how we train animals and people...Alex had effectively trained his father to grumble because it tickled!

"Our son is friggin' brilliant and I'm just a blond-haired monkey who can draw," he grumbled.

"Well, you're my monkey and a handsome one at that," I told him. "Doesn't that count for something?"

I watched his brow raise high as he half-glared at me. Then he tapped his fingers on the wooden tray of the high chair to get Alex's attention and he held out his hands. I watched as our son held his arms up, smiling brightly. John carried him into the family room and sat him on the floor and asked him to stay put, that he was going to play some music for him. When I asked him why, he replied that the boy liked to sing and he wanted to see if he was at least in tune with the music. I smiled knowingly. "You've already done this, huh?"

I nodded as I leaned in the doorway.

"And?"

"Most of the time he's in tune," I replied. "Sometimes, he goes off on a tangent."