They Told Us Deaf Parents Would Struggle
I remember what we were told in the beginning.
The concerns.
The assumptions.
The questions about how things would work.
At the time, I didn't have all the answers either.
I was simply becoming a parent.
Looking back now, what I remember most isn't what people said.
I remember the moments that followed.
The laughter.
The shared attention.
The little ways we learned each other.
We built our connection through hands, eyes, expressions, and presence.
Not because we had to.
Because that's how families grow together.
When I look at photographs like this, I don't see limitations.
I see a family finding its rhythm.
I see joy.
I see trust.
I see love taking shape in its own way.
And I think that's what I carry with me most.
Not what we were told.
What we lived.
