Finding equal access in the strangest of places @ Christmas - by Eleanor

I love equal access, although sometimes when I do get it, I don't want it.

Strange as it may seem but often when I have my communicator in the classroom with me I want to do it all myself. I want to lipread, create a 1:1 situation where the other person feels comfortable, relaxed and not constantly apologizing or trying to find some sort of drama to involve the communicator. The communicator is there to do a job, impartial, unbiased and detached. The awkward moments when people feel they have to apologize to the communicator, I mean, what for? For making her do her job? Those few minutes that it takes to do this, means I'm standing there, concentrating on your lips, wasting my time that I could be cherishing with the children, watching their progress, seeing them grow, learn and develop. Talk to me, please. Would you apologise to me? No. So don't. Don't even think about it. Look at me, talk to me, I have feelings, I'm human and I'm desperate to succeed in life. So please, just help me on my way by treating me exactly how you'd treat others (but also be slightly deaf aware, face me, don't mumble and please don't stand in direct sunlight).

 I love Christmas, and I love spending time with the people that matter, because these are the people who treat me the same as everyone else and always have done. These are the people that I can rely on (sure they make the odd mistake but they are still human too!) and treasure. I went home for Christmas day and my brother was so excited to show me the signs for 'Happy Christmas'. We were in a pub (as you do) and although pubs are generally awful for trying to maintain oral conversations I have my own personal communicator in the form of my mum, who as a mum, always recognizes when you just don't understand. She repeats things, often. We finger spell the odd words. She shows an interest in new signs (even when they don't seem to stay in her mind very long). I didn't feel stupid, I didn't feel excluded and I most definitely didn't feel like an annoyance or a problem.

 In life I choose my friends, I choose who I surround myself with because some people, are just too hard to be surrounded by. It may seem like I'm a bit of a loner I suppose but I'm pleased to say that the friends I do have are the most important and also the loveliest people I've ever had the pleasure to meet. Quite often they tell me that they 'forget' that I'm deaf, but its not the sort of 'forget' that means they switch between emphasizing the lips so much that its no longer comprehensible and mumbling to the point where you wonder if their future job should be a puppeteer. They just 'get it' and that is the most amazing quality in a friend you could ever find.

Present giving is always difficult at Christmas. I've never thought of offering tickets to a play or the theatre because generally it means that I'm expected to go too. I do love the theatre but for me they are a bit hit and miss.
 I recently went to see Cats at the Theatre Royal in Norwich which was subtitled with STAGETEXT. Although I really enjoyed the play I found it was very hard to take in the full contents of the play whilst constantly looking directly to the side of the stage (screens on both sides) to see what was being said. It really is a difficult combination because I love subtitles but maybe I am slightly spoilt with having them at the bottom of a TV screen, skim-reading so fast that I've still got a moment to take in the action, the drama unfurling between every glance.

 This year I offered to buy a two tickets for a friend to a play called The Secret Garden @ West Acre Theatre. I intended the tickets to be for her and a friend of hers but through some misunderstanding she made the assumption I would be the 2nd ticket holder. My immediate reaction was to say no, why would I want to sit through a play that I'd probably only understand about 20% off, mostly due to visuals. Then I thought about it, why couldn't I go? Maybe I could get a communicator or a script to read during the play. So I emailed West Acre Theatre and I was so pleased by their quick responses and willingness to help. They explained the theatre was far too small to accommodate a communicator (this became transparently clear when I went to watch the play) but they would be more than happy to give me a script, and with a small torch I could follow it during the play. Some of my family wanted to see the play too so they came along. When I paid for the tickets they asked me if I could sit in the middle of the group so that they wouldn't get any complaints about the light. This made me laugh, since when has being a family member or a friend meant they wouldn't complain?! Needless to say, they didn't and they were also very pleased by how accommodating the Theatre were being.
  I did enjoy the play. I was sat at the front so I could attempt to lipread most of it but often referred back to the script. It was hard work, flicking between the play itself and looking down at the script in my hand. Earlier that day I'd accidentally caught the film 'The Secret Garden' and wondered if the play would be pretty much the same (and it was very similar). I love the storyline. A girl, Mary sent away to a manor with lots of rooms and gardens, only to find a young 'crippled' boy, Colin who had lost his mother and himself. With the help of Mary who finds a 'secret garden' which had been locked away with the death of the mother Colin finds himself again and realizes that he is not at all 'crippled' and that magic exists in others and himself.

 Thank you so much West Acre Theatre, it was a pleasure to visit you and watch the play. Thank you for accommodating me and for putting on a lovely play, it really means alot. So if in doubt folks, don't be afraid to contact the Theatre directly and seeing what they can do for you - they don't bite!

Continuing the NQT Teaching dream: By Eleanor

I'm still here!

Still going.

Sometimes I get to the end of a week and I'm amazed by how quickly it all went. Then I remember that I've got planning to do, assessments to make, reports to write and it all eats into my weekends.
 I don't mind, of course, this what I want to do and I made the choice to be here.

 For me, the power of seeing my children achieve things for the first time, just makes every second worth it. I've seen so many next steps being achieved in these last few weeks and I still smile in amazement at how much the children have improved in just their concentration and engagement skills alone.

 I still have those special ears that only work when the child places their ears right against them, as well as a magic button on my beautifully cornflour stained pocketed trousers, a neat little party trick in an effort to get the child back to their lunch, resulting in a countdown every-time they touch the button on the pocket and a magic 'whoosh' to move their hands back to the plate. It has rather backfired with the magic and fascination of the button being far more exciting than their lunch....but with a cross-circular link of maths, who can complain? Another child started laughing their head off, clearly enjoying constant countdowns, pleading me to countdown from 100 which I then proceeded to do, by which point the lunchtime was over-running but I was left with two very satisfied children with an increasingly noted interest in the effects of numbers and counting down. And yes, we have done it again, and again, and again...but I love it :).

 Communication is such a key element in all aspects of life. I work hard to try and find a way for each of the children to express their needs, their desires, their preferences. If you don't have communication, the world is such a rough place to be.

 When I don't have my hearing aids in, the only way I can articulate how it feels to be in a public place, is like a goldfish bowl. Imagine being a goldfish in a bowl (you can add in some seaweed and a glittery castle if you like) and you're looking out at all these people gathered around you, but you can't hear them. You can see their lips moving but there are no words, there is no sound. I am lucky that I can lipread but it only helps so far. If you start talking about flying penguins and the crazy goose lady who lives down the road, I won't have a clue what you're talking about. So many of the lip-patterns are the same so having an idea of the context is, without doubt, the key to unlocking communication barriers.

 I have also become somewhat of an expert at pretending I understand. The only difficulty is when I am asked a question. Then I'm well and truly screwed. Enter a red-face, nervous laughter and a swift change of topic and we're rolling again. Sometimes if I'm in the car driving, especially in the dark with a passenger talking to me, I try to make sure that I do all the talking, because then there's no chance of me not understanding the passenger (due to the fact its dark and I can't lipread), but if I'm doing all the talking then it doesn't matter, and they don't feel ignored, win, win. I'm pretty sure they get a little fed up but its so much better than the alternative, them thinking I don't like them.

 I find it so hard to connect with people sometimes because I miss so much. I can't talk to people when I'm getting on with things, helping a child, observing the children, keeping an eye out in the playground, washing up, clearing up the paper, toys, clothes, writing reports..  my ears are closed, I can't talk to you, I can't connect with you, I can't hear you. I miss those conversations that everyone else is having, I miss those nuggets of information that gets shared, I miss those thoughts and opinions flying around.

Don't want to close my ears, I don't want to look away... I don't want to miss a thing.

Being a deaf Newly Qualified Teacher by Eleanor

So, I've delayed writing this post, for several reasons:

The first being that given my current profession that I do have to be really careful what I say, upsetting people is the last thing I want to do, ever.

The second being that I have actually been so busy and blinded by the pile of paperwork and everything else that incorporates 'being a teacher'. So much so that I can't actually believe it has been a half-term already. I am thankful for the chance to recharge my batteries.

The third being that the first few weeks of term consisted of me moving house.. I am now officially 'grown up!'. What a culture shock that is, who knew washing clothes and ironing them took so long! I actually have conversations about cleaning, hoovering (or vacuuming for the geeks), I even talk about the weather and whether it will be safe to hang clothes out... madness!

 But I have decided, in a bid to keep doing things that I love to do and not become a workaholic, that I will write this post. I do love to write.

 Where to begin. September was mad. It was a bit like jumping in at the deep end, and you just keep kicking your legs hoping you'll get some air to breathe. Then the stress of moving house. I didn't think it would be EASY exactly, but I hoped it wouldn't be too difficult. Luckily the house comes with most the furniture already so it definitely could have been a lot worse. For weeks on end I kept turning the wrong way after work, my brain not really kicking in. And the cooking... don't get me started on that.

My career -

 I teach at a SEN School. I always hesitate to tell people how many children I have in my class because compared to a mainstream it does seem small. But I did do my PGCE in two very big mainstream classes and I know the stress and everything is multiplied by at least 27-30.
 In my eyes Mainstream and SEN teaching are both very different.

Mainstream to me, was difficult. You had to plan every lesson. You had to have at least 4 differentiation for the different abilities. You have one TA. You have marking at the end of the day, you get 30 reports to write, you have to find some way to monitor the progress of 30 children and somehow, somewhere you have to find that time to relate to them because they are little people with big thoughts and ideas.

SEN to me, is challenging. You have to plan every lesson. You have to differentiate for each individual child because they all have such a variation of needs. You have more TAs, but you need them if you want to resemble some sort of lesson. You have marking at the end of the day, you get reports and constant updates to parents to write. You have to monitor their progress so carefully, generating individual targets and keeping on top of them, keeping in touch with all the other professionals linked to that child, you have to be able to justify why that child should be in this school. You have to come up with new ideas to keep them engaged, they may fail, or not work the way you wanted. You have to find that connection and help them to learn the most vital thing anyone could possibly learn; how to communicate.

 I love my job, but it is challenging. There is such a high demand and expectation put on teachers. I think the hardest thing is myself. I put far too much pressure on myself to be 'awesome'.

It is very hard to understand the children which is why I have a communicator in the room. But surprisingly, it is adults that tend to be more difficult to understand. Children adapt, they learn. I have one child in my class who asked what my hearing aids were. I told him they were 'special ears' and I need them to hear. He put his ear right against my ear and started listening. I think he wanted to see what I could hear. I started talking 'hello! Are you alright?' He responded and I wondered if he thought my special ears were talking to him. Whenever I tie my hair up he leans over to rest his ear on mine. Its beautiful.

 As adults we get ourselves into habits, I like to call them 'hearing habits'. You talk, all the time. You talk when you're in the kitchen, you talk when you're not facing the person, you talk on the TV. You listen, all the time. Your ears are always open. My ears aren't. They're only available when I have access to your lips or to subtitles or even sign language. If you talk and I look down to check something or read something, my ears are off, I cannot hear. The funny thing is, I don't get annoyed when I see 'hearing habits' because, you're human, you've lived like this all your life and its second nature. You've never had to adjust or change and perhaps never met a deaf person. I get it, totally.
 That doesn't mean I never get frustrated ever, of course I do, but I have empathy and hopefully that makes me an even better teacher.

 I am my own person and I am desperately independent. I love achieving my own communication but it takes a great deal of concentration. I want to be strong, independent and an amazing teacher. I still believe.

 If the world were flipped around and all the hearing people were deaf, and the deaf people were hearing, what would it be like?

Playing Mum with No Working Hearing Aids.. by Imogene

Hi there again!

I am a Mum to two beautiful young boys (3 & 13 weeks) and they are the centre of my world. Everyday, I am doing things with them, listening to their cries, chants and giggles. They're honestly the most beautiful sounds I hear and I thoroughly appreciate being able to hear them. But what happens on the one day you can't?

Let me explain.
Wednesday last week, I woke as usual to the vibration of Freddie thumping around the bedroom and his (very) high pitched squeal as my hubby is tickling him. It's a normal morning. I sit up and put my hearing aids in and try and hush my lads as my littlest is fast asleep, and well, it's too early to hear such loud noises.
I get up, get dressed and go fetch some breakfast as Noah is still fast asleep. I do love the hectic mornings in this house. It's constantly filled with Freddie shouting he wants more milk with his cereal, or how hubby will be late home that afternoon, or that Noah will want a bottle at 20 past the hour. It's all so normal and it's the thing I wake up to and adore. I like the sound of babbling voices and things lumping around. It's my family.

I however dislike when my hearing aids run out. The tapping really irritates me, and always seem to start at the most inconvenient time! But like everything you tend to do as a parent you just put it to one side and get round to it when you can. My life is busy as a Mum, I'm constantly on the go of feeding and changing, as well as talking and playing. So on the day when one of your hearing aids decides it's finished it's battery life, you think "yeah, OK, I'll change you once I've finish *insert job here*" and this is exactly what I did.
Until my other one decided to start going off too.
Safe to say I rely on my hearing aids A LOT when I'm at home.

Freddie is very much one of them Toddlers that when they want something, they'll want to drag you or keep hanging around the item they want; for example Freddie keeps opening and shutting the pantry door when he wants something to eat. It's probably partly because he's around me most of the time, so knows that will get my attention. Of course he doesn't always do that, he does often shove his face in mine and go "Can I have a biscuit?" "Mummmmmmmmmmmy, I'm huuungry!" or "What time is it? Is it time for Dinner?!"

So on this day my hearing aids were tapping away, driving me up the wall. I had to stop doing everything and find some batteries.
I have many spots around the house and in bags where my battery packs seem to accumulate. In a basket above the microwave, in my handbag, in Noah's changing bag and beside my bedside. I went to all of my usual spots and there were either packets of all used batteries (why these were still here I've no idea!) or there was nothing to find.

Oh Sh*t!

I was a Mum in a house alone with two young, demanding kids and I was completely deaf.
You could imagine how quiet it felt. It felt really odd seeing and looking after my kids but with absolutely no hearing. I managed the best I could and things were OK, I just had to watch everything 10x more than I ever had before. Every move and action had to be accounted for.
A natural thing as a parent is to keep an eye out and look after your child, but there was something about them hours that made me feel like I was doing a terrible job. I know I wasn't really, but it did make me realise that sometimes I rely on my Aids more than I think.

I contacted my mum by text and she tried ringing me, but texting that I can't hear and well, it was a massive miscommunication but finally got to explain that I don't have any batteries!
 As a family we don't have any transport so I couldn't drive to the Hospital, I didn't have any cash on me to get the bus to the Hospital, or a shop to buy any, Chris was at work until 5, which means the shops would be close by the time he finished his shift (not to mention it was 10am in the morning).. It was basically the most annoying situation ever.

My Nan came to my rescue and brought some in Boots for me and brought them to me (Got to love Grandparents who'll do anything for you!). I was saved and all systems were go..
I will never let myself get in that situation ever again. It was hugely frustrating.
It showed me what I am capable of as a Mum, exactly how much I appreciate having Hearing Aids in my life and that I love the sounds my family make. If I didn't have them, I don't know what I'd do!

Oh lah lah, a week in France: By Eleanor

 Sitting on my bed, drink in my hand and my cat wedged firmly between my laptop and lap.

 Home, sweet home.

 Last Thursday I hopped on a plane and flew off to Beziers, Southern France. I still get nervous at the rumbling, speeding plane as it finally lifts off at the front, the back following close behind. The houses, getting smaller and smaller until they look like ants and you find yourself surrounded by fluffy dreamlike clouds. Every now and then the plane dips, you hold your breath, yet the plane smoothly cruises ever onwards.

 Almost too soon and the plane prepares to land and with a bump and a screech, you have arrived at your destination. Bezier is calling. Hand in hand, we explore the land, with a terrible sense of navigation skills plus back to front driving rules equals an extended, hot, sans plomb fuelled drive to our home for the week.

 When we originally started planning our holiday, I made an assumption that lots of people would know English. I am not really sure why I made this assumption and boy has my thoughts changed since then. Lots of people we met spoke fluent French, and although they tried their best, simply did not understand English, same as I simply did not understand French. As a deaf person, I do not cope well with any kind of accent. I remember when I was young, at a theme park and this boy started talking to me and my brother. I couldn't understand a word. I remembering asking him to speak English please. He was completely 100% English, he just had a heavy Yorkshire accent.

That was my first experience with an 'accent' and conversations on that holiday always turned to my curiosity. I became anxious, it was difficult enough for me to understand my family and friends from Norfolk. What would I do if I met someone I couldn't understand? What if I said something stupid? Why did people always talk differently? I became angry, frustrated, I worried that I would always need my mum to interpret (repeat what people have said clearly so I could lip read her). I became very aware of what it looked like to have someone repeating everything that had been said, feeling sad, locked in and dare I say it, lonely.

 We met lots of French people on our travels and came across lots of French writing. My partner tried to teach me some French words but it was difficult to hear the different sounds to pronounce. What I hear, and what is actually said, are two very different things.

 We had an amazing week in France, and like all holidays, it went far too quickly. It was hot. Very hot.
 On the first day we went to cap' de Agde, which had a small beach, an aquarium and quaint cafés. It was a beautiful day, with great company. I had my first strawberry Mojito sans alcohol, with the shimmering, shining blue water stretching out as far as the eyes could see. It was also the first time my partner got red raw sunburn. Whilst I turned a healthy tanned version of myself.

 The next day we headed to Sete, mainly for an art gallery by Miro. I love art galleries. We did get lost trying to find it though, the theme of getting lost runs heavily during the week.

 The next day, was Sunday. Which is considered a rest day in France. And we considered it our rest day too. We went to a market in the morning in Bessan, and brought some amazing fresh strawberries, we also went to the bakery for fresh croissants (when in France!). I honestly could not go back to supermarket croissants now... it has to be fresh, simply amazing. It also gave us the chance to explore the local area. I encountered my first conversation with a French person who could speak good English. The problem was, I couldn't lip-read. The mouth movements were different, from her native language being French. It was interesting but similar emotions started creeping in.
Its not that I don't want to know what they are saying but it is painful. I've become somewhat of an expert at knowing when to smile, nod, murmur some sort of noise to allow them to think I understand what is going on. Asking someone to repeat something that you still won't understand, even after the fifth attempt, is an awkward and frustrating process for both sides. It is so difficult to explain to people that because I've heard them once before the first time, it doesn't mean I will always hear them the first time. Lip reading is and always will be my proudest achievement, but it is not magic. It does not allow me to instantly recognise every word.

It is like a jigsaw puzzle.
You pick a jigsaw (conversation starter) based on your mood, what you feel you can achieve (topic you know enough about), the number of pieces (number of people in the conversation), the size of the pieces (the other people in the conversation, their ability, can they speak clearly enough to lip read).
 This is good, because you are in control. Once you've had a go, you let someone else have a turn. The problem is, they have different tactics (ideas), they mess up your system, you no longer know what is being done (or said). It takes time for you to work out what they have done, the gaps they have filled (words they have said). And sometimes you don't always know every gap they have filled.
 It is a slow process, working together to piece the whole jigsaw together. You get there, and more often than not, there is still one piece missing. The connection doesn't feel as natural, as strong as others. Other people can walk into a room, say something in passing and make everyone laugh. The kind of connection you get from throwing words around.

The rest of the week was full of further exploring, including a visit to grotto clamouse (a cave). This visit really excited me because the brochure we found about this, was translated into English as well. It even commented on having access for deaf people. This was the first cave trip that I had ever been on that actually felt they prided themselves on equal communication. The first part was a video, it was spoken in French and had French subtitles at the bottom. It also had English subtitles at the top (yay!). We had explained that I was deaf when entering and they said I could have a copy of what was said during the tour (more surprised smiles) so I could read it. To be honest, it was full of technical jargon and even when reading it, it went completely over my head. The best part about exploring caves, is exploring caves. For me, I don't need any explanation or technical words, I want to see the beauty for myself. And it was beautiful. And I loved the opportunity to feel equal.

 Of course, as with all good holidays, it was soon time to go home. I loved my trip to France and will always remember never to make an assumption that all French people speak English. :)

The Next Step: Eleanor

The next step

So, I’m finally here. I’m at the end of my PGCE teacher training course (ok, three days left but whos counting?) and I’ve got a teaching job lined up ready for September. This September.

 So, how am I feeling? Terrified.

If you asked me a few weeks ago how I felt I would have told you that I felt stressed, tired and antsy about whether I have the capability to be a good teacher. Wondering if it was a reflection of me; that I was reaching for the wrong goals, that there was something else I should be doing, someplace else I should be.

There has been several particularly stressful areas in the last few weeks. I have never been one for moaning, but they could have been different.

1.       Going to interviews. Ok, so that should be stressful and is stressful (for most), but added with the pressure of finding your own interpreter and finding the means to pay for it. Originally I thought that a government run scheme Access To Work would pay for them. So, for my first interview I simply booked an interpreter through an agency, read the Access To Work website who said they would pay for any costs. Simple right?

It all went through swimmingly. I received a claim form, filled it in and the interpreter was paid. So, that must make my assumption right?

 Wrong. I didn’t get that job, so I went to another interview, and another. Booking the interpreters myself, informing ATW as soon as possible that this was happening. Days passed, no information, no payment, no ‘case officer assigned yet’. Finding the time to call them in my hectic teaching day because my interpreter leaves at 3.30pm and I can’t call because I can’t hear. My emails get ignored or simply just avoided. I call them, I get the question ‘which council is the school under?’ ‘do they have an equality policy in place?’ ‘does this include reasonable adjustments for disabled candidates?’. A stopper in the never ending game. The internet doesn’t help. More calls, to the councils, to the schools. Yes, yes, yes to the questions. I call the case officer back, keen to end this ping pong game, my rubber soles wearing away with every missed lunchbreak, the missed evenings when I could have been marking, preparing.

 She is on holiday. In just one hour, she has left the office and headed to the beach. My problems are on pause.

 A week passes, she hasn’t called back. I call, she isn’t in, she will call back the next day. She doesn’t call. I call her. The claims are rejected. Why? Because the council should pay. Why has this changed in the last few weeks? Why didn’t anyone simply tell me this before? The ball remains firmly in my court. It is still my fault. The agency wants paying, I made the booking.

 I make more emails. Things are starting to look better now, and last I heard, the schools are now paying forwards the interpreter costs. I wish I had known, I wish someone had explained to me in simple terms that I needed to do, who I needed to talk to. Why did ATW pay for the first but not the others? The game is ending but the questions stay the same.

 

2.       The pressure to be ‘awesome’. When I first attended my final placement back in January, I was given the heavy burden of finding my own interpreter. The UEA couldn’t help and knowing I had budgets and limited hours of funding, I set about advertising for one myself. As luck would have it, I found a seemly good interpreter, willing to work for a good price and had most of the dates available.

There was a problem though, that came to light when I started working with this interpreter. She wasn’t right for me. Some of her signs were different. She struggled in the environment of demanding children. Slowly, I felt disempowered, unconfident, hesitant to use my voice, to communicate to the school, to the staff, to the children. I felt as if she knew the staff better than me, that they were going to her and I was just a spare part. All in my head. I should talk to her, tell her how I feel. The feeling continues to spiral and I feel lost. Enough. I have a break, some weeks at university and some at my first placement.

Going back to my first placement made me feel alive again, I feel the passion and the enlightenment from teaching, these children know me, they want me and they call me Miss Craik and I smile.

 I knew things had to change. So when I went back to my final placement I arranged a different interpreter. I changed my thought processes. I became determined to be the best. And being the best put an amazing amount of pressure on me. It turned into this huge ‘steep’ learning curve. It turned into having to show and justify to people, to everyone, to myself that I could do this.

 I am here. And *touch wood* I’ve done it.

3.       The interviews. Rejection. It isn’t easy to take. Amongst the pressure of being awesome, trying to ‘fix’ things and finding a job, it really questioned my belief.

4.       Father’s Day. It really sucked. That day, one year ago was the last time I saw my dad. Although I am so happy that I did see him, it still stings to know that was it. And everything that has happened in a year. Sorting through his things, selling his house, his funeral, saying goodbye. When I stop and think, it doesn’t feel like a year, and it definitely doesn’t feel like he isn’t here anymore. He will always be down the road in my heart. And lately, he hasn’t left my thoughts. I miss him. It makes me question, where is he now? Is there a such thing as heaven? Or reincarnation? I’ve been flowing the catholic religion lately (school purposes), trying to link anything to it. But I don’t believe. I don’t believe in anything. I want to say that he has gone to a better place, that he is watching down on me now, that when I think about him, he is there listening, that when I’m out walking and I see an ‘amazing view’, that he’s standing next to me seeing the same thing through his eyes. Through my eyes. Maybe sometimes he brings his own chair, to rest at the top. Does that happen? Does it matter?  Is there a difference between needing to believe, and actually believing?

But that was then. This is now. I have a job and I am fast on the route to becoming a qualified teacher, progressing to a teacher of the deaf. This is step two in my long road. I am so excited but so nervous, hesitant. I still have this undying urge to be the best I can be and I punish myself heavily when I fail or seen as ‘satisfactory’. I dislike that word. I want to be awesome, I want to be amazing and I want to inspire, motivate and engage. But most of all, I want to teach.

A muffled world, my week with one hearing aid: By Eleanor

 This week has been particularly tough. Not in the usual format of being on placement, assignment work etc. (its half-term whoo) but in the fact that one of my ear moulds has been causing me a lot of pain recently, constantly rubbing to make sores in my left ear.


 It has got to the point where I am coming home and taking it straight off. As a person that has grown up dependant on these machines to communicate it has been strange.


 Today I had to go to the UEA to do a 'viva voce' to pass the remaining assignment. I worried about attending with just the use of one hearing aid, knowing that it is really quite disorientating and that I can only realistically listen to one person at a time who is facing me. I considered wearing my hearing aid just to avoid any issues. But then I started to wonder, how would they cope if I did lose my hearing further, if I couldn't rely on my hearing aids any longer, and more to the point, how would I cope?... so I went without.

 But actually, I didn't need to worry. I explained to my tutor and she actually made a point of swapping positions to be sat on my 'better side'. She spoke clearly, not treating me like an idiot (you know the 'caaaan yoooooou heeeeaaaarrrr meeeeee?' version). She said if the other person in the room would ask me anything then she would indicate this was so, knowing that they were sat on my 'deaf side'. It really made me feel more secure and safer, not just in those 30 minutes but for the rest of my day. I spend the day with Imz (one of my best friends) and although we were in the busy city centre, I wasn't distracted by anything (mostly because I couldn't hear much of anything) but I could focus, I could listen, I could lip-read, I could speak, I could communicate. I'm not saying that if were was more than one friend, that I would have been able to cope but I really surprised myself.

The ones that matter don't mind and the ones that mind don't matter.

 On my way home Imz had left one of my old favourites in the CD player, with just one hearing aid in, I cranked up the sound to the max and belted out the lyrics, feeling the vibrations through the floor and reciting those lyrics from those thousands of times we practised when we were young. It made me smile, so much. Thank you (Imz, I love you :) ).


 In some ways it has made me so appreciative of the life that my mum and dad brought me up in, they encouraged me to speak rather than sign. This has made me really good at adapting to situations, by lip-reading and fitting in the missing bits (it often still goes wrong when I don't know the context!), and quite probably TOO good because some assume that I can talk so I can hear leading to another world of pain and communication breakdowns.
Sometimes I wish my signing was as fluent as my speaking, however it has enabled a bigger, accessible world, ensuring that I can associate with hearing people. This world is predominately a hearing world, and always will be.


It is estimated that 1 in 1000 people are deaf. This means that there are ALOT more hearing people, speaking, talking, chatting with their backs turned, talking from another room, mumbling down the phones, whispering secrets, singing along to lyrics, sharing stories, every minute of every day of every week of every year. A life with working ears, taken for granted, hearing and absorbing. Of course I can understand not knowing, not seeing and not understanding a world with broken ears.


  Sure, I still get frustrated at the lack of deaf awareness but quite often it is fixable with knowledge and communication. I want to fight for equal access, be it in the form of subtitles in cinemas, on TV, on the train, for any and all announcements. I want to fight for sign language to be a GCSE option, I want to fight for all companies to have and to use access to emails and live online chats rather than phone calls. I want to fight to enable that no deaf child feels they don't know which world they belong in. But I (and probably many other deaf people) have heard the same things, reached the same brick walls, same boundaries time and time again.


My energy falls, my enthusiasm and motivation to continue the fight often waivers. I celebrate at LoveFilm finally agreeing to subtitle more contents, but the fight goes on, directed for Sky next. I celebrate at getting my local cinema to show subtitled screenings once a month, but I despair at no-one using them.

 One day it will all be gone, and people will moan, but they didn't use it when it was there. These changes will be those failed movements of time that no-one opened their eyes or closed their ears to see. 

Starting Norfolk Signing Choir: By Eleanor

My First Signing Choir

 

Ever since I’ve been learning to sign I’ve become more and more absorbed in the ‘deaf world’. As well as using BSL with my communicator in the classroom, I’ve also been teaching signs to the young children as I continue through my PGCE training. Just a few weeks ago I finished at my first placement school and we had to perform an end-of-term play. Being in a reception class, this meant that the majority of the play was with singing which turned out to be a complete delight. I can’t sing myself and it is something I refuse to do unless I’ve got alcohol in my system.

 

 The reason the school play songs were an absolute delight was because it gave me the chance to sign along to the songs. I half expected the children not to be too bothered, and to be fair, not all of them were enthused about signing as I was but some of them completely surprised me. The amount of practising we did (mainly for singing rather than the signing aspects) was crazy, the amount of ‘quick ten minutes’ here and ‘super quick five minutes’ there was mad. It got to the point where I was in a classroom supervising break-time and I could see a young girl signing all the songs without the music, without singing to her friends. It was a heart-skipping moment, and if I watched her any longer I may have shed a tear. It was so beautiful to see these hearing children open their eyes and heart to sign language.

 

 It made me remember a time when I used to love singing in school, however badly and out of tune I was, it really didn’t matter when you were 4 or 5. It made me think about watching people on YouTube sign along to music, particularly the infamous Lee and really wanting to be a part of that. I was talking to my communicator about how much I really wanted to be a part of a signing choir and it was difficult with the limited amount of choirs in this area. I know there is one in Kings Lynn but they get together at awkward times for me. I wanted a choir where it didn’t matter if you didn’t know sign language, where it didn’t matter how old you were – because those children that I taught in a reception class were amazing and so motivated to join in. That love and passion for something quite often dies away as you get older, yet when you’re a child, the magic lasts forever, no matter how many times you repeat a song.

 

 My communicator (Claire) really surprised me with her response. She said ‘Why don’t you make your own?’ I was really taken aback by this, how could I make my own? I’m not an expert in BSL and at the best of times I use SSE (Sign Supported English) more so than BSL. How would I be able to know when to start a song, if I forget the words I can’t pick it up again by listening to the music, how could it possibly work?

 A few days passed and I mentioned that I was still thinking about this, how I could possibly make my own Signing Choir and she surprised me yet again by saying how she would love to start one up too, perhaps we could work together. The conversation instantly changed from how would it work, to how could we attract people? I no longer had the worry of translating because I knew I had her support no matter what, and from first-hand experience, I knew that she would be my cue when I forget the words or I miss the start of the lyrics.

 

 From that, Norfolk Signing Choir was born. I have to point out that it is REALLY early days but I am so happy. I designed a flyer and posted it on Facebook to every deaf group that I’m a part of, I started looking at sign song videos on YouTube to see how others were doing it and thinking what songs could we do. I started telling people, no matter who they were, hoping that they would pass the message through. I started enquiring about where we could have these meetings. I am so lucky for Charley South and her kind offer of using the Brickmakers Pub in Norwich.

 

 Yesterday, Saturday 3^rd May was the day of the first practise. I was really nervous because I wasn’t sure if anyone was coming. Quite often, people want to come but can’t make it, or are very nervous about coming to the ‘first’ event. So, I was so happy to see some new faces come through the door! Claire is our ‘conductor’ and we had a fab time learning part of a song. We didn’t manage to finish a song, but for the first event we did fabulously! I really, really enjoyed myself and that was what my aim for this Signing Choir was/is. From other comments, it seems that everyone else enjoyed it too! Thank you guys, for coming and joining in, and I can't wait to practise the rest of the song :)

 

 We are now in the stages of planning our next meeting, I don’t want to say any dates until we are absolutely sure but we are planning on having a practise once a month every month on Saturday at 2pm finishing around 3.30pm. Please, come and join in, we are open to all ages, all abilities and all sense of humours!! Find us on facebook @ Norfolk Signing Choir.

 

Boo! by Imogene

Hello!!

Long time no speak... literally!

(sorry for the post title, but couldn't think of one that goes, but it's amusing all the same!)

I firstly want to apologise for the lack of posting for well, months now. I've been really really busy with well, everything; but mostly my little family, which I would like to say has had an addition to, in the last couple of weeks!

So, I've rather had my hands full with my new little guy :) Oh, and not to mention Freddie too!

Ok, so I've got a massive confession to make - I've been cheating on this Blog with another! I've got a personal 'family' blog that I have been heavily involved with in the last few months.. and its slowly become to show that I've neglected this one - I'm very sorry!

I mainly started my other blog because I felt I never had enough to say for this one that was Deaf related as my family are literally, as sad as it sounds, is all I do. I hardly ever have many Deaf stories to share.. Which I think is kinda a good thing.. Shows that my hearing doesn't take over the majority of what happens in my daily life. (That really isn't in any way meant to sound patronising and offensive to any other deaf persons)

However, on this rare occasion, I do have a little something deaf related that I can share with you.

For the last few months I've been off to the Hospital for check ups on my Diabetes (as well as bump). I've been lucky to be able to have quite a few scans too, so it's not all been bad but there was a particular day that wasn't joyful or a planned event.

When I was 36+6 weeks pregnant I woke up and found some bleeding. Naturally this really worried me and I was terribly panicked that it could mean that something was going wrong with #2 (Noah as he is now). I rang my mum and she told me it could be the 'show' as they call it, but to make sure I rang my midwife.

I'm so glad that my midwife that I've had all along answered the phone (I also had her for my monthly check ups with Freddie too!) and she tried calming me and asked me to explain and tell her what had happened and what I found.. I explained it all and she told me to ring the Hospital to get checked out - simply to make sure everything was alright!

The funny thing that she said (it's funny now, not really at the time) was "Imogene, make sure when you go to the Hospital and see them that you tell them that you're Deaf! Because you don't always hear things right and it isn't obvious that you are.. I don't want you saying 'Yes' to something you don't hear"

Thinking back on it, it's such a true statement. I never tell people I'm Deaf. I'm not really sure why.. probably because I'm usually not too bad without telling them, but also because (as stupid as it sounds) I sometimes forget I'm actually Deaf! It sounds so laughable and really, it is but I occasionally do forget.

My mum comes to the appointments with me and very often goes 'Oh, Imz is Deaf, so if she doesn't reply or looks confused it's probably because she didn't hear you' (because I never normally mention it!) and then the same old comments come out 'Oh are you? I never realised' 'Ooh, you don't sound like you're Deaf, your speech is very normal' and 'You don't look Deaf, you're very attentive and reply quick, do you lipread?'

These comments always make me laugh. Writing them down does seem like you should take offense to what they say because it sounds rude. But I'm so open about it, I don't mind people having a say on it - at least it's not said behind my back or in whispers!

Anyhow, everything was fine. There was no explanation for the bleeding, just that it happens sometimes, but there was no sign of any other further bleeding.

I didn't have a fantastic birth, but it happened and little man arrived here at last!

To read or follow my family life feel free to become a follower/share my Blog - do say Hello too! :)

www.littleandbigmoments.blogspot.co.uk

Why I am not designed for the Pub Quiz

So, the time has come for another deaf-related moan.

 I've never liked doing a Pub Quiz, ever. Every little part of my body grimaces at the thought. Those horrible words 'Do you want to do the pub quiz with us?' which when answered with a resounding NO, turns into 'but we need you' and 'we promise to help interpret the questions for you'.

 Let me just get one thing clear. Even with 'help' there is a hundred billion other places in the world that I would rather be. Can you imagine, sitting in a pub with your friends/family crowded around a piece of paper, a voice muttering something over the sounds of the TV, excited chattering and muttering from the other tables and clinking glasses (not that I hear these sounds but I'm sure sub-consciously its all there). OK so I've managed to make it sound like great fun, add some alcohol in and yes you're in for a good night. So what's my problem?


My problem is, I can't hear. I can't hear the voice muttering the questions no matter how loudly or slowly they repeat the questions. Unless he is physically in front of me I cannot hear.
 Once the question has been asked, everyone goes into 'thinking mode'. Even my designated interpreter (who lipspeaks the question). It is then impossible for them to give you the question with a decent amount of personal thinking time before the next question. It is impossible to get the interpreted question clear enough because moving your lips without speaking is the hardest thing to do without any idea of context. The question could be about Chile, or how many races a horse does before retiring, or what do these colours mean when all together? The point is, how am I supposed to work it out from lots of very similar lip-patterns? You could be saying turtles and I interpret daughter. You could be saying drink and I think read.


 So when the question has finally been relayed to me, bearing in mind all the effort that it took just to get a single question - I don't even know the answer! It's like running a marathon but you packed the wrong shoes, but you run anyway, and you run and run but you just can't get to the finish line because you've no energy left and you're wearing the wrong shoes, so heavy, so unfulfilled.


 That's not the end though. You've now got to lipread or somehow interpret what everyone is muttering to each other, 'it could be ....' or 'it could be...' and the annoying 'what do you think?'. Yeah, I have no opinion. I don't know what the heck the question was, or what you think the answer might be because everyones mumbling. OK so you don't want the couple on the next table to overhear but what about the people on your table?


 Don't get me started on the 'come on! think!' comment.


 So forgive me if I seem boring for not even turning up. I know there are things in this world that you don't like doing but you have to do them. But somehow I don't think a pub quiz is one of those and I will never feel as if I'm missing out by not doing them.

Oh dear.. the baby monitors gone!

Hey there everyone!
Long time no posting - I know! It's just I feel I can only really blog here when I have something major to talk about (yeah, not completely what blogging is all about) but there's nothing massively Deaf related going on in my life, which I'm pleased to say actually! But tonight I have come up with something that does have a slight line in that direction.. and probably many parents will be able to relate to this new change I'm experiencing!

Now Freddie is coming up to being 3, we've finally decided to let go of using the baby monitor as the little guy is more than capable of walking and opening doors (he has more than proven this when he was very ill! - which I'm pleased to say he has made a full recovery.. finally!). Non-the-less as a parent this is such a scary thing! It does bring a little worry as to whether I shall hear him if I'm downstairs etc, but I know in my heart he can call and come down un-aided and let me know of any problems.. 2nd night of this and it's successful.. (I still go to grab it once he's in bed to realise he's not using it no more!). It's just showing how independent he is growing and just how much I am able to trust him to come and find me. 
However, in the night my husband does most of the interacting, partly because my hearing aids are out and it's practically impossible to lipread half asleep (I've tried it so many times and have just given up, even my husband gets a 'what?' about 20 times before I get it... my brain, eyes and everything doesn't co-operate when tired!). Also doesn't help that I'm such a deep sleeper, although not so much at the current moment as pregnancy is taking it's toll on my diabetes! (but that's completely going off topic!)
So yeah, he's growing up so quick now.. And I have to admit when the husband said 'Do we really need the baby monitor plugged in anymore? We hardly need or use it really, do we?' I instantly was like 'BUT.. WHAT!?' but like he said we hardly need it and until #2 comes around we really don't need it - It's just like having your safety blanket taken away from you for the mean time! I'll only need it in the evenings and during naptimes with #2, so it's not a massive loss at the moment.. (But it's still scary right?!)

Would love to hear how any of you Deaf parents/friends of Deaf parents coped with or what stories you have heard on this subject! It's always nice to hear about other people's experiences.. means that we don't feel quite isolated in these subjects!

I hope you're all well! :) Ix

Experiencing a Deaf School: By Eleanor

In February 2014 I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to visit a deaf school in London for 7 days. This was almost a milestone in my life because it meant two things:




 1. That I would be living with my cousin, his landlord and another flatmate in a house in London that I'd never been to before.


 2. That I had the exciting opportunity to visit, observe and learn from a deaf school, a school that promotes bilingual philosophy, meaning they teach BSL and English equally.




So, the time rolled around so much quicker than I expected, much like this whole PGCE course. I found myself on the train heading to London. Just to point out, I love London. Whether its intended or not, it has subtitles almost everywhere. On the train, on the tube, on the bus, I didn't have to worry about missing my stop because the electronic information boards reassured me every other minute, subtitling the tannoy for me. The bus stop outside of Kings Cross had writing, just to tell me that there would be a bus in literally 2 minutes of waiting (this is most definitely not the Norfolk Way).


 Wednesday morning I arrived at the school, unsure what to expect. It was a small school, much smaller than anything I had seen before. In the Nursery and Reception there was no more than 6 children in each with 1:1 staff and TAs as-well as the teachers. I almost worried myself into thinking there wouldn't be much to do with all this staff and support, how wrong was I?


 Looking around the school it was very clear how much they promoted and respected their bilingual philosophy, all the displays had English and BSL signs, a good majority of the staff were profoundly deaf themselves, all staff whether hearing or deaf could sign, BSL classes were highly advertised throughout the school. I'd never seen such a school where I could feel so involved and welcomed from day one. Every conversation I could be a part of whether I wanted to or not, there were no hidden agendas, no hidden or lost conversations.
  The children, the beautiful children using their hands to communicate and their open eyes innocently gazing, interpreting and communicating. Their voice, their language, a different world.

Stories were signed to the children, a different perspective, dramatic, intriguing and exciting, a story that could never be portrayed quite the same in English.
 The ones that wore hearing aids or Cochlear Implants quite often made their own little noises, some could talk quite clearly and others were just learning, making sense of their noises, their voice.


 My seven days at the deaf school went by just as quickly as they came. I learnt so much. I learnt about a world where deaf children could grow up and feel as valued and loved as mainstream children do. A world where they could be supported, taught visually, seeing the beauty in the movement of our hands rather than the sound of our voices. I learnt that telling them that I wore hearing aids just like some of them, I was automatically accepted.
I was no longer different, I was the same, the same, the same.

 “Deaf people can do anything, except hear.”

King Jordan (Former President of Gallaudet University)

The Classroom Through My Deaf Ears: By Eleanor

So, I've been pondering on my next blog post, knowing that it is now 2014 and 26 days have already passed me by.
 I've been reading 'The Happiness Project' book (fab book) by Gretchen Rubin and its about a woman who isn't unhappy, but knows she could be happier. She sets about ways of doing this over a year by making simple resolutions each month to follow.
 It begins with simple things like de-cluttering, which I have happily set about doing already, there is nothing more liberating than emptying half your wardrobe, finally letting go of those tops that you 'might wear one day' but know you never will. It's not so liberating that because you've now emptied half your wardrobe you feel that it's now OK to buy more clothes (luckily I haven't... much).
 Perhaps I'm slightly cheating by taking the bits that I want to do, rather than all the bits I need to do, but another resolution that interested me was that she started a blog and was posting nearly everyday.
 Now, I'm definitely in no position to make some silly promise that I will post everyday but I will try to post once a month.
 Anyway, it really is a great book so have a search and have a read (you can borrow my copy Imz don't worry!).


 OK so, I want to try and invite you into my everyday world, obviously some bits will be rather vague as I can't really name places or people but hopefully you will get the general gist.


 I arrive at school around 8.15am to prepare myself for the day ahead. The odd teacher comes by to say good morning and my communicator arrives not long after me. The children arrive for lesson, mostly quietly hanging their coats up, putting things in their trays and sit, legs crossed, arms folded on the carpet.
 The teacher wears the microphone and I hear her voice clearly straight into my hearing aids and into my ears. The children are responding though I never know which or when.
 Time to teach my lesson and it's numeracy today. I've started introducing some behaviour tactics to help the behaviour management, they like to push their boundaries, see how much they can get away with. I know when there is chatting, I don't know who from exactly but I have my suspicions. I praise the good ones, knowing the cheeky ones will want a bit of that praise too.
 I ask questions, they put their hands up, I don't always hear their response but my communicator is safely behind them with her hands/fingers becoming their voice. It's clear now.
 Time to set the group work, I know which children aren't listening and I know I'll be asked 'What are we doing?' by at least 3 (the same 3) children every-time. I make sure the room is quiet and try to ensure all eyes are on me. I try to explain as clearly as I can what we are doing.


 I sit at one of the tables to do a task, the groups are so big and the noise from the room is overwhelming. I talk, I feel my voice vibrating, I hope I'm loud enough. I can't hear their responses, I can't keep them all engaged at the same time because they can't hear either. I stop the class with the tambourine, and I ask for quiet work.
 The communicator stands behind the children, listening in, her hands becoming their voice, its clearer now, I feel more in control, I am in control. I keep an eye on the time, ensuring I leave enough time for the plenary before break.
 I finish the group task and call everyone back to the carpet. Behaviours start to pick up again but I'm hot on the trail. Praise the ones that do, the others follow suit. Are they shining? You can have a house-point, you can have a colourful dot. The naughty ones end up staying, missing a minute of their break-time, but this number has dwindled through time.


 Its break-time, and I smile at the thought of the children respecting me and me respecting them, I smile at the thought of them knowing that I will teach them if they let me in. I smile at the thought of them learning and answering questions correctly that are designed to test them. I smile when I do the marking and am able to tick their learning objectives off.
 I set the room up for the next lesson, its literacy. The children come in, hang their coats up, put things in their trays and sit on the carpet with their legs folded and arms crossed.
 I wait for silence and I start again.

Getting Ready for Baby #2 by Imogene

I remember when I was first expecting my first son, I was so shocked but also so happy to learn that I was going to be starting a family. It's one of the things I have always wanted and expected that I would have eventually. I have grown up in a big family with 2 brothers and a sister, I also have another half sister. Having such great memories of my childhood and being blessed with amazing relationships with my parents - it's always brought such positive ideas about my own family that i'd have one day.

Naturally I'm quite a laid back person (obviously I have the worry/stress days as well as anyone!) and I found that through-out my first pregnancy I reflected this temperament. I didn't have many worries about whether he could potentially have a disability or anything could go wrong. I think most of that was because of my age, I was only 19 at the time. Also it's probably because I didn't know what to expect being a parent and that the pregnancy didn't become to feel real till I felt my son kick for the first time. It hit me really hard, I was going to actually be a mum. I did have the general little doubts of whether I would be a good mother, know what he needed when he cried, whether i'd cope with the late nights, that I may drop him.. It was really scary, but I was so excited to meet him, despite the doubts. My Husband at the time was in the RAF so I was still at home with my parents but we got married, moved into our own home and even though Chris (husband) was working away most of the time I stayed in our house alone, so most of the time it was just me and Freddie. Through them few months we bonded as he was the other person to talk to through that time - I also went home and saw my family etc but most of the time it was just us. I used to read to him, listen to music and of course nesting ready for his arrival! 

So when he arrived he was already my everything because he's been there a whole 9 months and we only got closer. Now he's nearly 3 and he's still a mummys' boy.

When Freddie got to be a Year Old, both me and my Husband decided we'd like to try for another baby, because we always talked about having a few children and we wanted Freddie to have someone to play and grow up with from an early age. 

Me and my siblings are 2 years apart and I remember the fun and games we used to have from a young age. Being to be able to have other siblings to play with was fantastic, I simply couldn't imagine being an only child.. couldn't imagine how different my life would've been.

It took over a year to finally get pregnant again (the more you seem to want something the more it sometimes seems to get out of reach!) but we did! Currently at 26 weeks and due at the end of April. I'm so excited to meet our other little man, it seems surreal that it's so close. 

It surprised me that during this pregnancy I have thought of all the bigger worries of having a child (the ones you would've suspected me to have first time around!), like him having a disability or a health problem, whether he's happy or not inside me. When I went to the anomaly scan at 20 weeks, I was incredibly nervous and felt sick - I never had this with Freddie but this time it hit me that during pregnancy you don't actually know what's going on inside of you; you know that they're developing into this beautiful human but everything else, you have no knowledge of. People always ask you 'How are you? Are you and bump OK? Is he well?' and when you've not had a scan since 12 weeks, the only thing you can think is 'well yes, i'm good, and I suppose they are too' which is a little scary as a mother to be. So many of my thoughts are a by product of maturing and from being a mother to a energetic lad. I always want the best for Freddie and for 'Archie' and knowing how well Freddie has developed I can only hope and wish that Archie shall be the same. It has also been a bit of a comfort to have regular scans due to being type 1 diabetic where they reassure me that all of his developing is fantastic and everything is really normal. I've been a lot less concerned since the 20 week scan as I know if there was a major issue they would've picked up on it (I have to hope!). It has also been really nice that one of my best friends is pregnant as well, she's a week behind at 25 weeks and it's been lovely to be able to text and meet; talking all things babies and pregnancy. A few times now we've had conversations of 'do you have it where you feel really sick if you bend down?' and it's like 'OMG YES!' - it's nice to know, it's all normal and happens to everyone else too!

This pregnancy has been different compared to my last. Archie has been a lot quieter in his movements compared to Freddie, I have to say that's the biggest difference, but then he probably has a lot to listen to what with Freddie and me talking constantly! I have also had more heartburn and earlier than I did during the last pregnancy. I've also been able to sleep better than last time - I rarely get woken up or feel unsettled - Freddie loved to kick me awake in the early hours!

Shows how different their personalities may be?
I have also been reading a book called 'The Secret Life of the Unborn Child' and it really opened my eyes to how much influence our mind has over the development and general psychology of our little people. It's an amazing book and anyone who is expecting should read it.

As I mentioned earlier that my Freddie is a big mummy's boy that I did wonder how he would behave and react towards having a brother and it's been very positive! I talk to him about when Archie is awake and what he's doing, I show him the scan pictures, I show him all his clothes and everything that we have got him so far. I make him feel included and he seems fairly happy with the idea of saying he's a big brother, kissing and hugging my bump (maybe doing that as it's seen what to do by daddy) and that Archie will be a baby - I guess the real impression will happen once he's born. But how he is generally I feel he'll be fine and that he'll love him (maybe not at being woken up in the middle of the night possibly) but I suppose he's too young to really grasp the whole picture and know what to expect, maybe he will when #3 comes!