For a little while, Seth kept pointing out how Rebekah sometimes has a hard time hearing things. Most of time it's not noticeable. But every once in a while, you have to repeat yourself or increase your volume to get the point across to her. He told me we needed to get her in to the doctor.
I called her pediatrician to see if they could give her a hearing screening. They told me it was time for her to have a physical, so if we scheduled that, they'd administer their basic hearing screening at that time.
She's healthy and beautiful--tall for her age. No surprises there.
Then the nurse came in with her little muff and told Rebekah to raise her hand every time she heard a beep. I watched as the nurse would press one button--an orange light would turn on--then she'd press another--a red light would turn on. Rebekah's hand went up nearly every time the red light came on. I assumed the orange light basically stated, "I'm ready to sound the beep as soon as you press the button that makes the red light." When the nurse finished with her left ear, she told me otherwise.
The orange light indicated a beep was sounding at 20 decibels. The red light indicated the nurse boosting the beep to 40 decibels. Rebekah missed every 20-decibel beep.
I watched the nurse administer the same screening to her other ear with more trepidation. Same results: she heard nothing at 20 decibels and missed one of the 40-decibel beeps.
The doctor came back in, heard the results of the test and referred us to Regional Hearing and Balance.
Today was our in-depth screening at the audiologist's office. Rebekah had several implements placed in her ears during the appointment. Sometimes she was told to push buttons if she heard a tone, sometimes she was told to repeat words back to the doctor as she heard them, sometimes the implements simply measured things.
After the exam, the doctor told us what I was afraid to hear: Rebekah has mild to moderate hearing loss. It's permanent. She can't tell us why she has lost some of her hearing or if it will continually worsen.
We're working things out with insurance, and in two weeks we'll have a hearing aid consultation. Rebekah will likely wear hearing aids for the rest of her life.
On the one hand, I think, "My baby has to wear hearing aids!" On the other hand, I think, "I'm so glad she can wear hearing aids." No parent would wish something like that on a child, but at least we have the technology to help. (And they come in a variety of colors!)
And now that I know she has hearing loss, I can't help but wonder what she's missing out on. Remember how I said it's not noticeable most of the time? It's not noticeable to me, but I have no way of knowing what she's hearing and what she isn't. It will be interesting to see how she reacts when she gets the hearing aids and can hear better.