One year

Exactly one year ago, Pablo had surgery to get his cochlear implant. That same sentence, written in the future tense the day before he was going to be implanted sounded terrifying. 

Let's start with the topical "I don't know where the last year went". Or with "I can't believe it has been one year already". They may be overused, but absolutely true today. I guess I know where time went. Time went to therapy, lots of playing, repeating words one thousand times a week, splitting them in syllables, playing some more, traveling, getting used to carrying electronic devices on strollers, planes, handbags, cars and the likes. 

Looking at the pictures, and talking with other parents who haven't gone through it yet, I remember how scared I was of the operation itself. It took me a long time to agree to start the cochlear implant process. Taking huge decisions like this for others is not easy, but I haven't regretted it one single day. I was scared of the surgery itself, of the general anesthesia, of having my happy, bubbly beautiful baby change into someone else, someone not as happy. Scared of it not working. 

All those fears proved to be unfounded. As you can see in the pictures, he was my happy boy again already in our ride back home from the hospital. The three hours of surgery felt like three years to me, but he recovered amazingly well and was running around the same night of the surgery. There were no complications. He was upset for maybe half an hour, and that was it. The implant is working. 

Now I have different fears. I am scared of losing the device (those things are not cheap to replace), of me not dedicating enough time to his recovery, of making the wrong decision regarding a second implant (I am still at a no), of choosing the wrong school for next year. 

In the meanwhile, he has gone from saying mamá and agua pre implant to having a wider range of vocabulary, particularly if it concerns wheeled things, from being quiet to a constant choo choo chatter while he plays, from mamá to papá, Lucas, abuelos, Miguel, Ines, Natalia, and so many more that he is learning every day. 

This whole process has helped me get to know my son better: he is resilient, generous, patient, stubborn, and has a high tolerance for therapy. He is bright, and lights my world every morning when he comes to my bed every morning. He is irresistible. He is strong. And now i know that no matter what, he will do well, even if his mom messes up in the way. 

Pablo one hour after surgery, and on his way home from the hospital.

Pablo a few days ago

The smell of a Cochlear Implant

My baby's head smells like plastic. Slightly burnt plastic, at that. Not always, of course. When he wakes up in the morning, he still has that milky, almost cheesy (olor a quesito, in Spanish) nursing baby smell. After he takes a bath, he smells great, like whatever bathing soap we are using at the time. When he is in Spain he smells like cologne, usually my Dad's. But when he doesn't smell like anything else, his head around the Cochlear Implant smells like plastic. At the beginning I thought that it would go away, that the smell was caused by the surgery. But it has been almost five months since he was implanted, and the smell is still there. And I don't think it's going anywhere. I have gotten used to it, but it was certainly an unexpected effect. Not very relevant, I know, but moms are like that, we have the ability to focus on the anecdotal, the mundane, what to others seems silly or even unbelievable. But for me it's a daily remainder that my baby now is a little bit of a robot. And I don't want to hear anyone tell me, with a horrified tone, how I can say that. It's just a fact, he now has a robotic ear, which technically makes him a cyborg. It is part of who he is, and at the same time doesn't change a bit of who my absolutely cute always happy and lovely clementine eater (he has downed four as I write this) is.
There is a children's Spanish song which lyrics say:
El niño robot

le dijo a su abuela
que le diera cuerda para ir a la escuela
la abuela le dijo que estuviera quieto
la abuela le hacía cosquillas al nieto.
It is longer than that, and it talks about a robot grandma getting her robot grandson ready for school. The kid in the song needs oil for his wired hair. My "robot" baby needs battery changes, and also has some wires, even an antenna. Since hey don't bother him, they don't bother me either.

Before the surgery, I was very scared thinking that maybe the implant would change who he is. Luckily, the change in the smell of his scalp is the only one I can report. Other than that, he is the same baby with whom I walked into an OR five months ago. My same baby.