The Language Lane

The Anniversary We Never Expected

There are some dates that pass each year with celebration before life simply moves on, birthdays, holidays, the start of a new school term.

And then there are the dates that split your life distinctly into “before” and “after.”

Today marks one year since Tucker became critically ill with Group B Streptococcus and meningitis. A year since hospital rooms suddenly became our whole world. A year since monitors beeped, alarms sounded, and we learned just how fragile life really is.

It’s funny how I remember those early days with both a strange clarity and a whole lot of blurriness. Perhaps that’s just my mind trying to protect me. I remember the bright hospital lights. The constant stream of doctors and nurses. The heavy uncertainty that seemed to sit with us in every conversation.

We were waiting for answers, praying for good news, and trying to process possibilities we could barely even fathom.

In those moments, life felt suspended. We didn’t know what the coming days, hours, or quite frankly even minutes would hold. We didn’t know how Tucker’s story would unfold. All we knew was that everything had irrevocably changed.

A year later, our life looks very different.

A Year of Change

It has been a while since our last update here, for no reason other than our life became wonderfully, hectically, and sometimes overwhelmingly full.

In many ways, we have simply been too busy living the story to stop and write it!

Our calendar has often felt like a carefully balanced puzzle of audiology visits, speech therapy appointments, early intervention sessions, Auslan tutoring, and moments of learning that we never expected to become part of our everyday life.

Amongst all of that has been the quiet but crucial work happening at home. The work of learning new skills while adjusting to the rhythm of parenting and intentionally creating a home where language is everywhere.

It has been a year of learning, stretching, and slowly finding our footing again as a family. At the centre of it all has been Tucker, growing, changing, and showing us just how capable he really is.

Tucker Today

One year on, the little boy at the centre of our story is thriving!

Tucker has started daycare, and watching him step into this new little world of play, friendships, and exploration has been both exciting and a little surreal. After everything he has been through in his short life, seeing him simply be a curious, loving toddler alongside other children feels like an incredible privilege.

I think the most common question we are asked is, “How much can he hear?” It might be helpful to first note that when we track Tucker’s receptive and expressive language milestones, we do so based on his hearing age, which begins from the day his cochlear implants were activated. Think of that day as the beginning of his hearing journey. So technically, his hearing age is only seven months old.

The most encouraging news is that his hearing, speech, and language assessments are tracking impressively alongside other children his chronological age, fourteen months old! Each day brings another small celebration as we watch him continue to build his language skills.

Wherever he is, Tucker is rarely quiet. He babbles constantly, experimenting with sounds and discovering what his voice can do. More and more, those sounds are turning into recognisable words, and it has been such a joy to watch his spoken language begin to emerge.

But what has truly amazed us is Tucker’s signing.

His Auslan vocabulary continues to grow in ways that honestly take our breath away. For a kid whose parents are not native, and sometimes not even confident, Auslan users, he signs confidently and clearly. More importantly, he always has a way to tell us what he wants, what he needs, and what he is thinking.

Sometimes, those little moments of connection stop us in our tracks.

The other morning, Tyler had left for work before Tucker woke up. When he snuggled into our bed for a cuddle, he looked over at Tyler’s side of the bed, paused for a moment, then turned back to me and signed WHERE. Then again, a little more emphatically, WHERE.

He wasn’t just signing a word. He was asking a question. He was noticing someone important was missing. He was communicating a thought.

And THAT is exactly why language, in every form, matters so much!

Our Auslan Journey

Moments like that remind us that Tucker’s journey is not just his. It belongs to all of us.

Over the past year, Tyler and I have been learning Auslan together so that we can meet Tucker in the language that works for him. What started as something completely unfamiliar has slowly become part of the rhythm of our everyday life.

We practice signs at the dinner table, in conversation, and during bedtime routines. Sometimes we get it right, sometimes we laugh as we get it very wrong, but every new sign feels like a small step forward.

Learning a new language is not always easy, especially while living a busy life, but it has also been one of the most meaningful things we have done as parents. Seeing Tucker’s face light up when we voice off and use “his” language makes it all worth it.

We acknowledge how incredibly privileged we are to be surrounded by fabulous Deaf adults who support us in this journey. They are not only teaching us language, but helping us understand the culture, community, and richness that sits behind it.

For us, Auslan means more shared moments, more conversations, more ways for Tucker to express who he is and what he is thinking.

And that has been one of the most beautiful parts of this journey so far.

A New Direction

One of the unexpected twists of this past year has been how much it has reshaped my own career path.

As we began learning more about Deaf education, bilingual language development, and what it truly means to give Deaf children full access to language, I found myself wanting to understand more. I wanted the knowledge, the tools, and the perspective to better support Tucker (and his teachers!) as he grows.

So, this year I’ve started a Master of Disability Studies, specialising in Education for Deaf and Hard of Hearing learners. My hope is that one day I can give back to children and families navigating journeys similar to ours.

In many ways, this decision has been deeply inspired by the incredible work in the Raising Bilinguals Club. Seeing the way Clare champions bilingual language development for DHH children and refuses to accept anything less has been both encouraging and empowering. This club helped me see what is possible when Deaf children are given rich access to both signed and spoken language from the very beginning.

This study journey feels like another step forward for our family. A way of deepening the understanding that this past year has already begun to shape in me.

In many ways, that feels like a fitting reflection of the year we have just lived.

One Year Later

This year brought fear we never imagined. But it also brought language into places we never expected. Into our home, Into our hands and into the everyday moments of our family life.

It brought a new community around us. Deaf mentors, teachers, specialists, and families who have walked this path before us. People who have generously shared their knowledge, their language, and their encouragement as we find our way.

One year ago we were sitting in a hospital room, praying Tucker would survive.

Today we are watching him babble endlessly, sign his thoughts, and ask questions about the people he loves.

Our life did not return to what it was before. It became something new.

A home where language lives in voices AND in hands.

A family still learning.

And a little boy who reminds us every single day just how lucky we are to be his parents.