I do not own Switched at Birth. If I did I wouldn't be writing it here; you would be watching it on television.


Daphne Kennish was six years old and having the time of her life. She had helped her mom make the best birthday cake ever. It had three layers (two chocolate layers with a strawberry one between them) and was perfectly moist. She was splashing in the water park with her friends from school. Daphne peeked through her bangs at Liam who was on the slide. He was really cute.

She looked around when she heard her mom call to her. She was waving a new camera in the air above her head and beckoned Daphne closer. Daphne got out of the pool dripping water and walked over to her mom. Her mom was always snapping pictures she thought. On birthdays and holidays especially, but even on normal schooldays. She smiled wide showing teeth and put one hand on her hip, her fingers brushing the soft green material.

When the sun started to go down and all her presents had been put in the car Daphne found herself giving a huge yawn. Her dad noticed and picked her up in his arms. He walked to the car with a smile on his lips; she was so cute when she was sleepy. He could tell that Toby was tired too but he was trying hard not to show it, probably in an attempt to wheedle a few more hours before bedtime.

"Okay," Kathryn said. "One cup of hot chocolate and then bed."

John smiled at his wife; really sometimes she was just perfect. Once the mugs had been put away and the children were in bed he and Kathryn looked at each other.

"Did you take the film to the pharmacy to get it developed?" Kathryn's voice was low and calm and John could hear an undercurrent of emotion. Whether it was pain or curiosity he could not tell but thought it might be both. She was thinking of Bay. My other daughter. That's how I think of her, because while I know that Daphne is my child my heart refuses to forget the little girl that was my daughter for over a year. I think Kathryn feels the same way.

Tomorrow I will send an envelope filled with pictures of Daphne to a P.O. Box and in two days I will receive an envelope filled with pictures of a little raven haired girl. This is the decision we came to; we didn't want to step on each other's toes after the trial so we just send pictures; never anything more. I haven't physically seen her in almost five years but I think of her almost as often as I think of Daphne. More than I should; it probably isn't healthy.

The pictures I will receive are markedly different than the one I will receive in a few days' time. Daphne is a bright, energetic, charismatic, and popular child. She is almost always surrounded by her friends. Bay looks shy in the photos and I only ever see her with her family. Her parents probably just believe that holidays and birthdays are meant to be spent with family. Or maybe they are afraid of losing her again.


Regina

Bay is so sweet. Honestly, sometimes Angelo says she reminds him of a little kitten. I worry about her; she is so shy that it is painful to watch sometimes. She hates going to school so much; she has only been there a few months but she says the other girls pick on her and call her retarded. She begs me so hard not to make her go back that I often wonder if I am making the right choice. But then what other choice do I have? Angelo and I agreed that Bay needs to learn how to interact with people her own age and she won't do that if she doesn't go to school.

We have also talked about getting Bay a cochlear implant but I am hesitant to let anyone cut into my baby's skull. I have lost the blind faith I once had in doctors and hospitals.

Every so often I wonder if I made a mistake in not telling John and Kathryn about Bay being deaf. She is my child but for a short while she was their child too. But, the other part of my brain argues that we agreed five years ago not to get in each other's lives, we were only going to send pictures. If they could give Bay back her hearing I would jump at the chance to talk to them, but they can't. All they could do would be to offer advice I have already considered and maybe point a finger of blame at me. Not that I don't deserve it. I should have taken her in sooner but I was still wary of hospitals at the time. Foolish pride cost my daughter her hearing, I don't think she can even remember my voice.

Besides the voice in my head said, a little louder to try and drown out the guilt, it's not as if they could be any help; all they would do is stick their noses in where they didn't belong and give advice they weren't qualified to give. Thanks, but no thanks; I don't have time to deal with that right now. We didn't need their money and I don't want self righteous white people telling me what is best for my child.

I look out the window. There are no bars, because there is no reason for bars. We live in a nice middle class neighborhood where we are a large percentage of those with ethnic background. We actually fit in well enough (the women here love my salon and are charmed by Angelo); the only thing I don't like about it is the way people look at Bay. They look at her like she is a freak of nature or has some horrible contagious disease. Sometimes I just don't know what to do to help her.

My mother and I have a rocky but workable relationship; she and I argue a lot but find our common ground in Bay. I look at her now, her dark curls spilling over the pillow and her eyelids closed in sleep. I kiss her forehead and get up to go back to my room. It does npt matter that she cannot hear me; I have to say it anyway.

"Good night sweetheart, and happy birthday."


Okay so, I know my chapters are kind of short but thats just how I write. I would like to thank everyone who took the time to write a review (I squealed like a little kid) and I would like to ask that you do it again. Please? I'll be your best friend. Criticism is appreciated (just be nice about it please). Next chapter I plan to write from only Bay's perspective (and we may meet Emmett) but I might have some Daphne as well. Until next time your dedicated writer, Filledeneige.