By: Jessica (Klein) Stallmeyer MBA '07

I cradled my one-month old, Britton, as the doctor returned to the exam room. There was a quiet somberness about him that was markedly different than our initial interactions before he conducted the ABR (Auditory Brainstem Response, a type of hearing test). ABRs weren’t new to us. We had already seen multiple doctors who had completed ABRs, with conflicting results. This surgeon came highly recommended, so I had come for his judgement on our previous tests. He closed the door quietly and pulled up a chair. He placed his hand on my back, paused, and then said, “Your daughter is profoundly deaf in both ears.” Stunned but not wanting to believe the verdict, I started, “What about the test results from the other centers...” He continued, “They were wrong. I am very sorry.” He then continued with an array of options, resources, and next steps. I missed most of what he said. I sat there, alone and empty. I was post-partum with my beautiful baby girl, completely numb. All my fight had been zapped by this unfathomable and seemingly unsurmountable diagnosis.

After living in a zombie state for the next few weeks, my acceptance of the reality settled in. And I was able to find some slight solace in having that clarity. Having a well-defined problem enabled me to mentally move on from the ambiguity of Britton’s condition to outlining our path forward. After endless researching, interviewing, and ultimately trusting in the professional guidance, Britton received cochlear implants at 10 months of age at NYU Langone by the world-famous Dr. Roland. Surgery day was emotionally and physically challenging, second only to the day I received her diagnosis.   

The surgery had gone beautifully, and Britton began to thrive. Through many hours of speech therapy and shuttling her around to the very best clinicians, she quickly caught up to her hearing-aged peers. I took nothing for granted. Every word, every head turn, every response was a gift. The emptiness and shock had given way to unimaginable pride. She was my panda bear; an incredibly rare marvel that very few are fortunate to ever experience.

Because of the rarity of cochlear implants (there are only ~1-2 million recipients worldwide), many people have never heard of the technology, no less seen a recipient ‘in the wild.’ I was acutely aware of this paradigm and as such, was cautious exposing Britton, but more honestly me, to the judgements of the outside world. My baby looked vastly different than most 1-year olds. She had cables and coils and blinking devices unexplainably stuck to her bald head. When I looked at Britton, all I could see was her deafness. It was all consuming; to me, it was her entire identity. So, I shrouded her with the cutest pilot caps and headbands Etsy could afford. I recognize I was overtly trying to hide her deafness. While outwardly I was exhibiting the behaviors of acceptance by going through the motions of her diagnosis and by crafting her manically orchestrated treatment plan, internally I hadn’t yet come to terms with her deafness. I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word deaf. Hearing loss sounded so much lighter, with much less stigma.

There were many stares. Moms ushering their curious children away, whispering not to point. My greatest fears were coming true. I perceived the world seeing and treating my child as different, and even worse, strange. Every silent glance was an affirmation that she was in fact different and my heart ached for what this might mean for my little girl’s future. Would she have friends? Would she have a prom date? Ultimately, would she be happy?

And then one day...it happened. “Where do you get those adorable blinking hair clips??! My daughter would love them!!” That woman at the grocery store could never have imagined the magic she inspired. I instantly realized that Britton could be a trend setter. The very obtrusive feature of Britt’s ears that I had for so long shunned could be harnessed as a platform for awareness, solidarity, and support for hearing loss. And so BrittsClips was born. We create replica blinking cochlear implant hair clips as well as blinking clips in fun shapes, such as teddy bears and unicorns. For every clip purchased, we donate to Songs for Sound, an incredible national hearing loss charity founded by a co-parent of a cochlear implanted child.

Not only did that woman’s misunderstanding ultimately inspire a company, she initiated a turning point in my own journey and acceptance of Britt’s deafness. In that very instant, she had sparked a mind-shift change from shame to cool. I had fallen victim to my own insecurities and preconceived notions around how the world might react to Britton’s differences. I had built up a defense to a world that was actually welcoming, warm, and willing and ready to accept her. In fact, they wanted to look like her! From the very beginning, I have always had a profound admiration for the technology and immeasurable pride in Britton’s progress. But what I wasn’t so sure of was whether the world would share in my views, and ultimately what pain that might cause my daughter. The woman at the grocery store, and many that have come after her, have suppressed those fears, proving there is much love and support in this world for diversity. So much so that I have gone from hiding Britt’s deafness to propelling a mission around literally and figuratively shedding more light on hearing loss. We hope you will visit us at www.brittsclips.com and follow us on Instagram to support hearing loss and find your own way to ‘Blink like Britt!’

Coming soon: BrittsClips Blue Devil clips will soon be availble in the Duke Bookstore and on the BrittsClips website! Stay tuned for more information.

By: Jessica (Klein) Stallmeyer MBA '07

I cradled my one-month old, Britton, as the doctor returned to the exam room. There was a quiet somberness about him that was markedly different than our initial interactions before he conducted the ABR (Auditory Brainstem Response, a type of hearing test). ABRs weren’t new to us. We had already seen multiple doctors who had completed ABRs, with conflicting results. This surgeon came highly recommended, so I had come for his judgement on our previous tests. He closed the door quietly and pulled up a chair. He placed his hand on my back, paused, and then said, “Your daughter is profoundly deaf in both ears.” Stunned but not wanting to believe the verdict, I started, “What about the test results from the other centers...” He continued, “They were wrong. I am very sorry.” He then continued with an array of options, resources, and next steps. I missed most of what he said. I sat there, alone and empty. I was post-partum with my beautiful baby girl, completely numb. All my fight had been zapped by this unfathomable and seemingly unsurmountable diagnosis.

After living in a zombie state for the next few weeks, my acceptance of the reality settled in. And I was able to find some slight solace in having that clarity. Having a well-defined problem enabled me to mentally move on from the ambiguity of Britton’s condition to outlining our path forward. After endless researching, interviewing, and ultimately trusting in the professional guidance, Britton received cochlear implants at 10 months of age at NYU Langone by the world-famous Dr. Roland. Surgery day was emotionally and physically challenging, second only to the day I received her diagnosis.   

The surgery had gone beautifully, and Britton began to thrive. Through many hours of speech therapy and shuttling her around to the very best clinicians, she quickly caught up to her hearing-aged peers. I took nothing for granted. Every word, every head turn, every response was a gift. The emptiness and shock had given way to unimaginable pride. She was my panda bear; an incredibly rare marvel that very few are fortunate to ever experience.

Because of the rarity of cochlear implants (there are only ~1-2 million recipients worldwide), many people have never heard of the technology, no less seen a recipient ‘in the wild.’ I was acutely aware of this paradigm and as such, was cautious exposing Britton, but more honestly me, to the judgements of the outside world. My baby looked vastly different than most 1-year olds. She had cables and coils and blinking devices unexplainably stuck to her bald head. When I looked at Britton, all I could see was her deafness. It was all consuming; to me, it was her entire identity. So, I shrouded her with the cutest pilot caps and headbands Etsy could afford. I recognize I was overtly trying to hide her deafness. While outwardly I was exhibiting the behaviors of acceptance by going through the motions of her diagnosis and by crafting her manically orchestrated treatment plan, internally I hadn’t yet come to terms with her deafness. I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word deaf. Hearing loss sounded so much lighter, with much less stigma.

There were many stares. Moms ushering their curious children away, whispering not to point. My greatest fears were coming true. I perceived the world seeing and treating my child as different, and even worse, strange. Every silent glance was an affirmation that she was in fact different and my heart ached for what this might mean for my little girl’s future. Would she have friends? Would she have a prom date? Ultimately, would she be happy?

And then one day...it happened. “Where do you get those adorable blinking hair clips??! My daughter would love them!!” That woman at the grocery store could never have imagined the magic she inspired. I instantly realized that Britton could be a trend setter. The very obtrusive feature of Britt’s ears that I had for so long shunned could be harnessed as a platform for awareness, solidarity, and support for hearing loss. And so BrittsClips was born. We create replica blinking cochlear implant hair clips as well as blinking clips in fun shapes, such as teddy bears and unicorns. For every clip purchased, we donate to Songs for Sound, an incredible national hearing loss charity founded by a co-parent of a cochlear implanted child.

Not only did that woman’s misunderstanding ultimately inspire a company, she initiated a turning point in my own journey and acceptance of Britt’s deafness. In that very instant, she had sparked a mind-shift change from shame to cool. I had fallen victim to my own insecurities and preconceived notions around how the world might react to Britton’s differences. I had built up a defense to a world that was actually welcoming, warm, and willing and ready to accept her. In fact, they wanted to look like her! From the very beginning, I have always had a profound admiration for the technology and immeasurable pride in Britton’s progress. But what I wasn’t so sure of was whether the world would share in my views, and ultimately what pain that might cause my daughter. The woman at the grocery store, and many that have come after her, have suppressed those fears, proving there is much love and support in this world for diversity. So much so that I have gone from hiding Britt’s deafness to propelling a mission around literally and figuratively shedding more light on hearing loss. We hope you will visit us at www.brittsclips.com and follow us on Instagram to support hearing loss and find your own way to ‘Blink like Britt!’

Coming soon: BrittsClips Blue Devil clips will soon be availble in the Duke Bookstore and on the BrittsClips website! Stay tuned for more information.