Two years ago, my daughter Mila, who was only three at the time, looked at me with sad eyes and asked, “Mommy, why doesn’t anyone in my books have cochlear implants like me?” That question stopped me in my tracks. My heart sank. In that moment, I knew I had to do something. If I didn’t create representation for kids like her, then who would?
That single question started a journey that has taken me through two busy, exhausting, but rewarding years. After my day job and once all three kids were asleep, I spent late nights teaching myself how to write, design, and publish a children’s book. Out of those long nights came Mighty Mila, a story about a fierce, imaginative little girl who just happens to have hearing loss. My hope was simple: that kids like Mila could finally open a book and see someone like themselves.
Our journey with hearing loss began almost six years ago when Mila failed her newborn hearing test. At first, doctors told us everything looked normal, but by her first birthday, she failed again. After more tests, we learned she had mild to moderate sensorineural hearing loss. As new parents to this world, we scrambled to learn everything we could. Mila got early intervention, and soon she was fitted with hearing aids.
Even as a toddler, she was full of sass and confidence. She loved picking sparkly ear molds and fun hearing aid cords each morning. She would proudly show them off to her teachers and classmates. Seeing her own excitement gave us comfort that she would face these challenges with strength.
But when Mila was almost three, her hearing began to decline rapidly. Within months, she went from moderate hearing loss to profound deafness. Her hearing aids could no longer help her, and she underwent surgery for cochlear implants in early 2020, just before the pandemic shut everything down.
Despite the obstacles, virtual therapy, canceled appointments, even masks making communication harder, Mila’s determination never wavered. She picked out two sets of implants, one brown to blend in, and one white to stand out. Of course, she almost always chooses the white. She decorates them with decals and sparkly headbands, and she tells me they make her implants “even more beautiful.” She wears them proudly, and we couldn’t agree more.
That pride is what I want her to hold onto as she grows. I want her to always celebrate what makes her unique. But the night she asked me why nobody in her books looked like her, I realized how damaging the lack of representation could be. Kids deserve to see themselves in stories, and kids without hearing loss deserve to learn about hearing devices in a natural, positive way.
So I wrote Mighty Mila. Since then, the book has won awards, but the greatest reward is the messages I get from parents and teachers: photos of children smiling with the book, saying, “She has ears like me!” Those words make every late night worth it.
Mila is my inspiration. She is proof that children with hearing loss are unstoppable, mighty, and absolutely beautiful, just as they are.
