When doctors deliver babies, most of them can hear the first life-affirming cries of the infants as they enter the world.

Dr. Philip Zazove can’t.

In 1981, Dr. Philip Zazove became the third certified deaf physician in the history of the United States. Now a specialist in family medicine at the University Hospital, he has spent more than 30 years in the medical field.

When asked why he chose medicine, Zazove replied, “I like to help people. I like medicine. I like relationships with people.”

But obtaining his dream job was no easy task.

Now 58, Zazove was diagnosed with profound hearing loss at age four. Though Zazove can't pinpoint the exact moment he lost his hearing, he recalls the frustration he felt when he couldn’t hear what his father was saying as he helped him organize books on a shelf one day.

“I said, ‘Daddy, you have to turn around so I can see you, so I can understand you,’ ” Zazove recalls. Zazove could only understand his father by reading his lips, a task that could not be achieved when his father’s back was turned to him.

The Zazoves recognized something was wrong with their son and took him to doctors who evaluated him and diagnosed his deafness.

“They said I had a profound loss, and I would never be educatable,” Zazove said. “And I should go to a deaf school, and I would be lucky if I got a job as a janitor.”

But because Zazove had already learned to speak English before losing his hearing, his situation differed from children born deaf who have never learned to speak.

Rather than placing him in a school for the deaf, the Zazoves decided to "mainstream" their son and educate him in public schools. Zazove says he was the first deaf child to be mainstreamed in the northern Chicago suburbs.

But school administrators met this decision with opposition. Every year, Zazove’s teachers would try to convince his parents to send him to a deaf school.

“Even though I did very well the year before, the teacher would say, ‘A deaf child? I can’t have one of those,’ ” Zazove said.

According to Zazove, the majority of deaf people cannot read above a sixth grade level, while only 13 percent graduate from college.

Yet, Zazove defied the odds and attended Northwestern University in 1969.

When it came time to apply for medical school, Zazove remained optimistic.

But despite stellar grades, high medical board scores and gushing recommendations, all 18 medical schools he applied to denied him acceptance.

While none of the letters openly stated the school would not accept him because of his deafness, Zazove knew that was the underlying reason.

Despite the setbacks, he didn’t allow his disability to stop him.

Zazove put off medical school and remained at Northwestern to obtain his master’s degree. When his program was finished he decided to give medical school another shot, and this time applied to nearly 30 schools.

During the application process, a second-year medical student at Rutgers University — one of the schools Zazove applied to — heard about Zazove. The student himself had a profound hearing loss and decided to help by setting up an interview with representatives from Rutgers.

Today, Zazove doesn’t know if that made a difference, but Rutgers was the only school to accept him.

After two years at Rutgers, Zazove transferred to Washington University in St. Louis where he met his wife, Barb Reed, who was studying pediatrics at the time. She is now a physician in the Department of Family Medicine in the University of Michigan Health System.

Reed emphasized what an “excellent” father her husband is and that his hearing loss never stopped him from caring for his daughters Katie, now 26, and Rebecca, 28.

The family came to Michigan in 1989. Both Reed and Zazove got jobs at UMHS in the Department of Family Medicine, making Zazove the first deaf physician to work in the state of Michigan.

As is the nature of family medicine, Zazove forms close relationships with his patients and their families.

“The thing about family medicine is taking care of family, continuity of care and prevention and keeping people from getting sick,” Zazove said.

Zazove cares for about 2,500 patients at the hospital, of which roughly 10 percent have a hearing loss. Because Zazove can communicate in sign language, some deaf patients drive hours to see him.

However, the average deaf person earns $25,000 or less annually, and Zazove says many can’t afford to see doctors.

“Some of them get Medicaid,” he said. “But because of the economy, every state is trying to cut back.”

Zazove admits he’s not sure how many of his hearing patients realize he’s deaf. Some think he has an accent, on account of his muffled speech, and ask if he’s Italian because of his last name.

“Sometimes they say ‘What country are you from?’ and I say ‘From Chicago,’ ” Zazove said.