If these wall could speak....

Have you ever walked into a place from your past and you became so filled with emotions that it made it hard to speak? You think to yourself...If only these walls could speak. Today was one of those days...it came very unexpected. I am going to start substitute teaching at the Atlanta Speech School and today was the orientation. The orientation was being held in the Parent-Infant Suite at the speech school. I sat down and we were asked to introduce ourselves and all of a sudden tears streamed down my face. Now I am not a big fan of crying, especially in public but here I was crying in a room full of strangers. My turn came to talk and despite me telling myself to pull it together I couldn't. Here is what I said: In this very room is where it all started for my family and I. I am excited to get back into the classroom (teaching my profession), but now I am realizing that maybe I will never go back to high school science...maybe my calling will be in deaf education. This is about all I got out. I am not a public speaker and I have trouble getting out my feelings in words to people, except for when I write in this therapuetic blog. If those walls could have spoke for me today, here is what they would have said: Yes, I remember Scarlett and her family. Baby Amelia was 3 months old the first time she came through that door. Linda Lasker (speech school infant teacher/advisor) sat on the rug and played with Amelia. Amelia had no hearing aids at this point so she was not very responsive. Mom and dad bombarded Linda with questions. The room was filled with uncertainty, sadness, and above all fear. Questions floated among them: How will we pay for all the therapy and hearing aids? How are we going to devote all this time to Amelia's needs? How are we going to give our other two children the same amount of attention? Will I be able to communicate with my child? Does Amelia hear us at all? Scarlett is sitting here today crying because it's been a long road. She's mainly crying because Amelia is doing great. Amelia is talking and listening and hearing and is a normal 3 year old(almost 3.) These walls saw Scarlett at her weakest and today at her strongest. She is excited to get back into the classroom now that she does not have to devote all her time to Amelia. She is glad to be here today. She is devoted to the speech school, because they have been dedicated to her child. Those parent-infant walls have heard those conversations and struggles almost every day in the Hamm Center. It soaks in the emotions. It hears parents at their lowest. It sees kids at the beginning of their hearing journey. Between that first time and now I have been in that room for a few events, but today was just one of those days. You know, one of those days where you cannot get the words out and you wish if only these walls could speak for you. Scarlett p.s. Here is a picture of Amelia when she got her own hearing aids.