Submitted by the Mom of a Normal Child with a Hearing Disability:

I learned early on not to listen to doctors. What? Not listen to people who went through ten-plus years of school—the professionals and experts? Yes, that's what I'm saying. Off course, I still take my children to doctors and I have a lot of respect for the profession, but what I learned is that the old saying, 'Mom knows best' is absolutely true.

My daughter, Katie, was born with a heart murmur and a hearing disability, and she was missing critical inner ear structures. Our well-loved pediatrician insisted Katie had a unilateral loss and was fine; no need to see a specialist. But the heart murmur? Oh, that required a specialist. I listened to my mom instinct, and am proud to report Katie was outfitted with hearing aids for both ears at four months of age (which allowed her to develop her language skills much quicker). I still love that old pediatrician because his nonchalance about the hearing issues caused my instincts to kick-in.

Now Katie sees a neurotologist for the ear and hearing issues. After the first evaluation, we learned of the missing inner ear structures which cause a constant imbalance. I remember the day he told us the diagnosis, and the omnimous prognoses that Katie should never engage in contact sports and would probably be using a walker by the time she was 35 for balance. I didn't listen! Instead, I watched her get better at running every year, and I signed her up (at her pleading) for soccer, baseball, and swimming.

While the neurotologist is a knowledgeble doctor, I have to grin every time we go in now. The first assumption he continues to make is that Katie attends a school for the deaf. I routinely and patiently correct him, "No, she attends a regular public school." Thus begins the pattern of our visits with the doctor. When she was four, we were in for her check- up and I told the doctor that we were going snow-skiing. He paused and looked at me over his glasses; I quickly assured him that we would all wear helmets and Katie would have lessons, thinking those were his concerns. But he replied in a fatherly tone,"'Well, I guess it's good that you treat her like a normal child." Another time, Katie started horseback riding lessons. Again, the arched eyebrows and the "normal child" speech. Last summer, I could no longer remain silent. When he began to make the "normal child" comment, I said, "She is a normal child: she loves to giggle, talk on the phone, play video games and swim. There is no one more normal than Katie." His response? He glanced up from taking notes and reported everything looked good with her ears.

I'll keep taking Katie to the specialist because he is an expert in his field. I'm sure I'll have to explain that she attends a public school and is a "normal child" during every visit. But I'll continue to say it with a smile on my face and a full heart, because I learned not to listen to doctors!