It was a cold, stormy night on January 21, 1998, and the local weather forecasters were calling for heavy snow in the small town of Lakeville, Massachusetts. It was a typical night for many; however, for my parents a miracle occurred that turned their ordinary evening into one they would always treasure. I was born, and they now had their third child. Odd as it may seem, I was the only child in the hospital born with blonde hair and blue eyes on that particular night. Not even a day old, I already stood out from the crowd and became the subject of an article for the newspaper. I would later find out, however, that it wasn’t my blonde hair and blue eyes that made me different from the others but rather my inability to hear. I was born legally deaf, and for four years I had difficulty even deciphering my own mother’s voice. Although I was very young, I can still remember those days clearly.

Growing up legally deaf, I always faced challenges. I remember going to endless appointments and all of the surgeries that accompanied them. I had four surgeries and two sets of tubes in my ears, but unfortunately those were not my only struggles. Trying desperately to fit in with the other children my age became a daily battle. For example, even going to the swimming pool on a summer day, something that should be a leisurely task, became difficult for me. In order to protect my ears and tubes from the water, I was required to wear ear plugs and a bright pink headband that kept the ear plugs from falling out.

“Why does Sydney have to wear all that stuff?” the other children always asked my parents. “She looks really weird.”

“Sydney needs to wear this pretty headband in order to help her ears,” they would simply respond.

It didn’t seem fair that all the other children were allowed to jump right into the pool without restrictions. I would cry desperately to leave my plugs out and my headband off. I just wanted to be like everyone else.

However, over the years I started to realize just how much my hearing has shaped me into the person I am today. As a child, I was extremely shy and reserved as a result of my disability and learned to use my parents as a shield to guard me from the unknown. I vividly remember my family vacation to Disney World. Unable to comprehend the concept of the Disney characters, I quickly became apprehensive of them and hid behind my mom or dad. I refused to take pictures with them because I could not understand why they were approaching me. Deciphering their gestures in those giant costumes was very difficult. It was every child’s dream to go to Disney World and see the characters, but I was frightened beyond words.

My hearing affected my speech development as well. In my early years I did not talk much, but rather screamed, not realizing just how loud I was. I also cried out of frustration or as a plea for help and better understanding. My doctors explained that I would most likely have a speech impediment without one-on-one attention from a specialist. Luckily, my mom had a degree in Special Education and was able to work extensively with me on my pronunciation. I remember sitting with her every day and going over my speech in hopes that I would not end up with an impediment.

After approximately four years of tubes and surgeries, my hearing has finally recovered and become on par with children my age. To this day I am still amazed at how much I have improved over the years and grown in confidence. I still have days where I tend to struggle with my hearing, but I have learned to compensate and embrace the fact that my hearing will never be perfect. Now that I am older and able to comprehend my situation, I make a conscious effort to include peers that feel as though they do not belong. Having been in difficult situations due to my hearing, I know how important it is to make everyone feel included. Embracing my limitations has made me a stronger person and has helped to define who I am today.