The rustling of the wind through the leaves on the trees. Waves crashing on the shore. The laugh that escapes from the mouth of your loved one. These are some of life's most precious sounds, and it's a miracle that I'm able to hear them.

I was born premature with liver dysfunction, jaundice and a large, water balloon-sized hematoma on my head. Lofty words that meant I was very, very, sick. I spent 16 days in the NICU while my parents were unsure whether or not I was going to live. Blood transfusions, CT scans, spinal tap and more. I was on the edge of life and death, and all that I know of this time is the pictures of little me: wires attached to almost every inch of my body. I can only imagine my parents' fear, wondering if their daughter would ever come home from the hospital.

And then Gentamicin took center stage. A medicine that could save my life, but that would in turn give me permanent hearing loss. The only medicine available at the time to treat my illnesses in 1996. But it's easy to see that losing my hearing was a small price to pay for keeping my one, precious life. A minor inconvenience that is more of a gift than a problem.

Flash forward 15 months when I was fitted for my first pair of hearing aids. To the way I incessantly took them out and threw them across the room for months. I speculate I didn’t like the feeling of having this foreign object in my ear—until one day I must have left them in long enough to realize how much my world opened up when I could hear what was going on around me.

And that day was the first day of the rest of my life. I was someone who could hear. I was someone who could join in conversations and situations. I was someone like you. It was the beginning of curiosity and knowledge and exploration. The beginning of laughter becoming my favorite sound, which it still is to this day. I have gone almost 20 years with hearing aids, and I have come to love them.

There are strange things that I love about them. I love that they aren’t waterproof. Sure, it sucks when it is raining and I am looking for any cover I can find to protect these expensive pieces of technology. It may be a little unfortunate when I’m at the pool or the beach and don’t catch every word of what is said. And it surely isn't great when 10-year-old me accidentally drops her hearing aids in the toilet (which is something I can thankfully laugh about now). But it has made me appreciate the silence at times. My hearing aids allow me to escape into the depths of my own mind and stay there for a little while.

I love to talk to people about them. Usually people don’t even know that I wear them, until it comes up into conversation for some specific reason. They are always surprised, and they find my lip reading abilities fascinating. I love answering their questions and I don’t take offense to or ward off any of their curiosities. I enjoy sharing my journey through life about what makes me unique, what makes me different. Not everyone has to use a vibrating alarm clock to wake themselves up in the morning, after all.

I feel fortunate to live the life that I do—full of jubilation and adventure around every corner. Listening to the sound of birds chirping in the early morning, my favorite songs on the radio while driving down an open highway, and of course laughter. The laughter of those around me reminds me to be thankful each and every day for the simple things in this great life that I am lucky to live.