Nick and Charlie 6 years into the future

A Quiet Determination

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. Oakley was already awake in his crib, his bright eyes fixed on the ceiling, quietly observing the patterns of light. I smiled as I watched him, the familiar warmth of love spreading through me.

“Good morning, little man,” I signed to him, keeping my voice soft. I knew he couldn’t hear the words, but it had become natural to speak and sign at the same time. Oakley turned his head at the sight of my hands moving and responded with a small, sleepy smile. His tiny fingers wiggled in what could have been a mimicry of my signs.

Carefully, I lifted him from his crib, feeling his small body relax against my chest. There was something uniquely comforting about these early morning moments, just the two of us. The house was still quiet, with Nick and Lily still asleep, and I cherished this time alone with Oakley.

As I carried him downstairs, I thought about the journey we’d been on since learning about Oakley’s hearing impairment. It hadn’t been easy, but Nick and I had made it a point to learn as much as we could, to give Oakley the best possible start. Today, though, I wanted to put all that aside and simply enjoy a day with my son.

In the kitchen, I set Oakley in his high chair and began to prepare breakfast. “How about some porridge today?” I signed, mixing oats and milk in a small pot. Oakley watched me intently, his little brows furrowed in concentration. He was always so curious, so eager to understand the world around him.

Once breakfast was ready, I fed him spoonfuls of warm porridge, watching as he eagerly opened his mouth for each bite. “You’re such a good eater,” I signed, smiling. Oakley beamed back at me, a small giggle escaping his lips. Even without hearing, he seemed to understand the joy in my expression.

After breakfast, I decided it was time for some fresh air. The day was bright and clear, perfect for a walk to the park. I bundled Oakley up in a cozy jumper and hat, making sure he was warm enough. As I strapped him into his stroller, I couldn’t help but marvel at how much he’d grown. It felt like just yesterday that he was a tiny newborn, and now here he was, already so full of life and personality.

The walk to the park was peaceful. The streets were still quiet, with only a few people out for their morning jogs or walking their dogs. Oakley’s eyes were wide as he took in the sights, his head turning this way and that to follow the movement around him. I pointed out a few things as we walked—a squirrel darting up a tree, a bird fluttering by, the colourful flowers lining the pavement—signing the words as I spoke them.

At the park, I found a quiet spot near the swings and took Oakley out of his stroller. I sat him on the grass, watching as he curiously touched the blades with his tiny fingers. “Grass,” I signed, guiding his hand to the ground. “This is grass.” He looked at me, then back at the grass, before giving a little nod. It was a small moment, but one that filled me with pride. He was learning, little by little, day by day.

I decided to take him over to the swings. I held him gently as I placed him in the baby swing, then started to push him slowly, back and forth. Oakley’s face lit up with delight, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he let out a happy giggle. I found myself grinning too, unable to resist his infectious joy.

As I continued to push the swing, I thought about the road ahead. We had a lot of challenges to face with Oakley’s hearing, and sometimes, the weight of it all felt overwhelming. But moments like these—where Oakley’s laughter filled the air, where he was just a happy, carefree baby—reminded me of what really mattered. He was loved, and he was thriving, despite everything.

Eventually, I took Oakley out of the swing and sat him back on the grass. We spent the next hour playing—well, more like Oakley exploring while I kept a watchful eye. He crawled around, occasionally looking back at me to make sure I was still there, and I would always sign encouragement to him: “Good job,” “Keep going,” “You’re so strong.”