blog – Lilacs in Bloom

Like a lot of adults over 30, I did not get to choose how I spent my birthday this year. So, there I was, celebrating at Valleyfair in Shakopee, Minnesota, home of Wild Thing, a rollercoaster that goes as high in the air as it can without interfering with incoming aircraft, reaching speeds higher than most states allow on any interstate freeway.

I am not even remotely an adrenaline junkie. In fact, my idea of a rush is not wearing my life jacket on a pontoon ride. But instead of fighting against the tide of my family’s excitement, I tried to make the best of it while setting very clear boundaries.

More than once, I declared, “It’s my birthday, and I will not be bullied into doing anything I don’t want to do.”

A strong backbone only goes so far in the face of a begging 8 year old, so luckily, I had an even better excuse to refuse to ride – my 5 year old. She is the perfect size for the Planet Snoopy rides but just a couple inches shy of the minimum for the more intense rides.

“You guys go,” I said to my husband and oldest daughter. “I’ll stay with her.”

It made me feel like a good mom. The little one was happy I was with her. Dad and big sister got to ride all the rides they wanted. I didn’t have to do anything that scared me. It was a win-win-win-win. Or so I thought.

Every so often, they circled back with us, eyes lit up like matching blue fireworks, smiles plastered across their faces.

“Steel Venom is the best!”

“That’s my favorite so far too! Should we do the Rip Cord?”

“Yeah! But let’s not do the Starship again. That was boring.”

“We should definitely go on Delirious though, and the Corkscrew again for sure.”

The two of them were speaking a language I didn’t understand. I started to feel like I was missing out as they took off for more adventures.

I waved to the little one as she rode up and down on the Kite-Eating Tree, but my eyes kept wandering over to the coasters.

I used to like this stuff. Maybe I should just do it.

My heart fluttered. Butterflies started dancing in my stomach. I could hear my heartbeat as my breath quickened ever so slightly.

Nah, forget it.

How often do we as moms do this? We “opt out” to watch the little ones. We use our motherly duties as an excuse to not take risks, or do scary things, or get out of our comfort zones. And, many times, we do so happily, convinced we are doing what is right, what is expected, and something no one can argue with.

I’m calling B.S.

Not on sitting out at Valleyfair – on sitting out at life. We have to stop using our kids as scape-goats.

Of course, there are legitimate times we need to tag out. Nobody wants to see you run a marathon with a newborn strapped to your chest. But if you are beyond that mentally and physically consuming stage of motherhood, step back and ask yourself if you are using your kids as an excuse not to try.

Being a mom takes a ton of time and energy, but it also builds invaluable skills that are needed in every aspect of our world. If you are a mom, you are a peacemaker, a rule-maker, an educator, a caretaker, a quick-thinking problem solver, and a hell of a strategist. If you weren’t, there is no way you could hold your head up long enough to read this. We need moms – like you and me – to be out there following our callings, building bridges, uniting communities.

If we “opt out” and use motherhood as an excuse, what is that saying to our kids, especially our daughters? Be a mom OR… something else. You can’t do both. I don’t know about you, but this is not the message I want my daughters to receive.

I want my daughters to know you can be an awesome mom AND…

…have a career.

…compete in sports.

…volunteer in your community.

….advocate for something you believe in.

…do something for no other reason than you love it and it’s fun.

So how do you ensure they are receiving the right message? It’s not by reigning them in and never letting them leave your sight. It’s by doing. By setting an example. By showing them that you can be a mom, this magical person who cures all ills, AND.

We cannot afford to have moms sitting on the sidelines. We have to play the game. We have to ride the Wild Thing.

And I did, literally. I screamed…a lot. I giggled…a lot. I thought I was going to throw up for a few seconds. But I know I made my daughter proud, and that was worth every terrifying second.

Aaahhh!!!!! What the hell is in my ear????

Oh yeah, I have hearing aids now. No big deal. Or is it?

I certainly did not think hearing aids would be a thing in the early second half of my thirties (NOT late thirties, mind you). But what do you know, they are. The first two weeks, I thought about them constantly. Will they ever feel comfortable? Are they working? What’s that noise? Can people see them? And if I stopped thinking about them for one second, I would start swatting and say,

“What the hell is in my ear????!!!!”

Oh yeah. I have hearing aids now. And the cycle would continue.

Here are 5 things that surprised me about getting hearing aids:

I didn’t realize how much I needed them until I had them.

My hearing loss started over 8 years ago when I was in my twenties and pregnant with my first child. My ears started ringing constantly, but my OB told me it would likely go away once I had the baby. (Something about increased blood flow during pregnancy. I don’t know. I couldn’t hear half of what she said. HA!) When it didn’t subside, I headed to an ENT. I had a terrible head cold that day and convinced myself that was what caused the hearing test to show I had mild hearing loss. Frankly, I was just there to rule out a brain tumor, so once I did, I stopped listening. I learned to live with the ringing in my ears (tinnitus), using white noise to mask it when it got bad.

Then, a few months ago, I started hearing my heart beat in my ears. I found it pretty hard to ignore, and when I discovered that a friend from college had opened an audiology clinic across the street from my office, it felt like a sign. After running the gamut of tests and making me laugh away my anxiety, Melissa told me my hearing loss had gotten worse, and she would recommend hearing aids in both ears.

Uh, what?

I was shocked at first because I really didn’t feel like I had that much trouble hearing, but over the following weeks, it started to dawn on me – my husband’s annoyance with having to repeat himself, my preference for taking phone calls on speakerphone (or not at all), awkwardly smiling and nodding after missing half the conversation in a crowded restaurant, looking the wrong way when there was a noise in the distance. It all added up. I did struggle with hearing. I had just thought it was normal.

Hearing aids are not covered by insurance.

The next shock was sticker shock. Hearing aids are not cheap, especially the most current technology. On top of that, the insurance industry views hearing aids as “nice to have” not “need to have,” which really fired me up. I was insulted by the idea that hearing is viewed as a luxury. Untreated hearing loss is linked to social isolation, depression, lower wages, and above all else, DEMENTIA. Hearing stimulates specific paths in your brain that will shut down if they aren’t used, which can cause the loss of gray matter. People with untreated hearing loss are 2-3 times more likely to develop dementia! So, we’re not talking about my ears – we’re talking about my brain. I don’t know about you, but I’m fairly protective over my brain, so to me, hearing aids were 100% necessary. Despite what insurance companies think, untreated hearing loss doesn’t come without consequences.

Vision used to have the same problem. In fact, vision insurance didn’t exist until 1955 when a group of optometrists got together to form a non-profit vision benefit company. Now that we understand more about the effects of hearing loss, I predict the same for hearing coverage in the semi-near future.

Having hearing aids doesn’t make me feel old.

It might make some people feel old, especially if the hearing loss is age-related, but my hearing loss started in my 20’s (where I still mentally live), so it didn’t make me feel old at all. Actually, with the blue-tooth technology my hearing aids have, they kind of make me feel cool. It’s like having invisible air pods in all the time.

It’s emotional.

Even though no one can really see them and they don’t make me feel old, getting hearing aids was an emotional experience for me. The idea of needing “equipment” to go through my everyday life was disconcerting. It seemed like news I had to break to people. Sometimes, I was met with an overwhelming amount of sympathy.

Person: Oh my God, I am so sorry! Are you okay?

Me: Oh yeah, no big deal. Like 7 million Americans have them, so it’s super common.

Other times, I was met with a shrug.

Person: Oh, cool. I know 14 other people who have hearing aids.

Me: But this is a HUGE deal! Feel sorry for me and give me all your attention!

In short, it was a rollercoaster, and I really didn’t know how to feel about it.

It quickly becomes normal.

I’ve never had to wear glasses, but that’s kind of how I view my hearing aids now. Every morning, I put them in. Every night, I take them out. I’ve gotten more familiar with the app that lets me adjust them for any given environment, and it can be fun to play around with it.

The good part about experiencing something like this is being able to guide other people through it. It can be scary and isolating and just plain confusing, but you’re not alone. Does the physical pain/discomfort go away? Yes. Does your brain adjust to all the new sounds you’re hearing? Yes. Will you still mistakenly think there is a bug in your ear once in a while? Yes. Or maybe that’s just me.

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Ride the Coaster

5 Things that Surprised Me About Getting Hearing Aids