My Miracle Boy

Some of you who have been reading here for years and years will remember that O.-Age-Almost-Three {otherwise known as O.-Age-Two} is my miracle boy. All of my children are miracles, really, for they have all had their own brushes with death which remind their mother that they live and die by the grace of God, and not by my works, as hard as I may seek to protect them from their own foolishness or from the circumstances of this life.

This time around, the miracle has to do with living rather than dying.

It was about three months ago when I first noticed that he was asking me to repeat myself.

“Huh? What, Mommy?!”

I didn’t really think about it at first. We have a fairly loud home, after all.

His speech was behind {and very loud}, but I was determined not to worry about it. Three of my four children haven’t said much before their third birthdays, and the other two both speak fine today.

But his “huh?” and “what?” increased in frequency until one day it dawned on me how very much like an old, hearing-impaired man he sounded.

And then it hit me: There is something wrong with his hearing.

I just knew it.

I scheduled him for his annual exam during the first week after school got out. We went, and I requested a hearing test. It is not typical to offer a hearing exam for the third year checkup. The doctor humored me, but I could tell he assumed I was overreacting.

After the test, the doctor came hurriedly back in.

“You know, you’re right!” And then he told me that O. had little to no hearing in his left ear.

For the past few weeks, we’ve been waiting. First, we waited for an insurance referral. Next, we waited to get in to the audiologist.

In the meantime, O. seemed to be a little better everyday.

Know what happened?

After I left the pediatrician’s office that day, I ran over to the office of our alternative practitioner. I was a little upset after being given the bad news, and I just wanted someone to try and do something that very day.

She made room for him in her schedule, and I was so relieved.

First, she did Neurolink on him. If you can imagine a sort of fusion of acupressure and biofeedback, then you have an idea {albeit a poor one} of what Neurolink might be like. O. tested as having issues with both ears, but at the neurological level. His brain, according to Neurolink, was not properly communicating with his ears. It was so odd for a child of his age that she asked me if he’d had a difficult birth.

Um. Yes. You could say that.

So she cleared it, which is shop talk for telling the brain to go and fix it already.

I know this sounds strange, but I’ve seen it work many times before, so just work with me here.

And then she asked me if she could pray for him.

“Of course!” I said.

Now, she is, I’m guessing, a sort of charismatic. Have you ever heard these women pray? They don’t request in sweet voices; they command.

So she got down and looked O. in the eyes and told him that God is in the business of opening closed ears. And she had faith that He would do it.

O. seemed better from then on. He stopped asking me to repeat what I was saying. His speaking improved, to the point where others mentioned that they were finally beginning to understand what he was saying.

And then yesterday I took him to the audiologist.

And he passed all the tests with flying colors.

He hears just fine.

So hallelujah already.

And amen.