Wordless

As this wet and windy week has gone on I have fallen in a bit of a physical heap. Various aches and pains laying me low. A sore throat has been the latest symptom added to the list. Nevertheless I managed a 'very' social day yesterday – which included an afternoon playdate at a friends house with lots of mummy and kid chat, and an evening out to celebrate a work colleges promotion – being on maternity leave I had lots of news to hear and share. By this morning I could barely manage a whisper. Usually even if I am a little horse my voice will find its way back before to long. But not today. Today I am voiceless.

Looking after a toddler – who is himself learning new words at a rapid rate – without a voice has been interesting. A lot of our usual conversations go like this:

'Mummy'

'Yes Rafa'

'Mummy'

'Yes Rafa'

'Mummy'

'Yes Rafa'

'Mummy'

'Yes Rafa'

'Mummy'

'Yes Rafa'

'Mummy'

'Yes Rafa'

'Mummy'

'Yes Rafa'

And I wait, always saintlike for him to get to the point. He is evolving. His conversations with strangers of: 'Hi,... by', now sometimes have a few words thrown in the middle, and even if he does not know all the words he does this very cute 'mumble mumble mumble dog mumble' - sentences in waiting. I have been thrilled with him learning to say Finn, on top of his usual repertoire of Mummy, daddy, baby. Anyway – the point is he expects a response! And I have had to whisper at best, which is confusing – and confusing, or frustrating a toddler is not something you want to do.

Our two boys in Autumnal Edinburgh, 2015

I did not dare take charge of walking Rafa along the street today. It is a challenge which requires a very firm voice – with clear 'Stop' commands. Luckily Jon was home and able to look after that task.

While Jon and the little boys went off to playgroup, voiceless me took my laptop to the local cafe to send some emails – a task not requiring a voice aside from an apologetic whispered 'Flat white.' I got on well enough. People who come to cafes with laptops are expected to be anti-social after all.

When the boys all came back after playgroup I took wee Finn and gave him a feed – he and I like to be together without words. Jon told me about the playgroup events and I nodded along.  Somehow due to the small cafes configuration Rafa ended up in a high chair adjacent to the woman sitting behind us in a wheel chair. Armed with a pork pie and plenty of words he did his best to chat with her and she did her best to chat back.

'Mumble mumble mumble mummy,' said Rafa

'Yes,' said the lady

'Mumble mumble mumble mummy,' said Rafa

'Yes,' said the lady

'Mumble mumble mumble mummy,' said Rafa

'Yes,' said the lady

'Mumble mumble mumble mummy,' said Rafa

'Yes,' said the lady

'Mumble mumble mumble pie,' said Rafa

'Yes,' said the lady.

As their chat went on – and round and round I began to realise that her chat was as limited as Rafa's and mine – though for different reasons. She had perhaps suffered a stroke at some stage. Rafa eventually got restless and I turned around to him. The woman's face showed her delight in realising that there was a smaller baby nestled in my arms and the movement I made distracted Finn from his settled feed – and drew his attention to the woman smiling at him. He smiled back. Sharing the delight of a beautiful babe in arms does not need any words. 

As the day has gone on it has been interesting to see how communication between my husband and I is impacted by my not having a voice. I have been limited to 'necessary' additions. A bit like speaking to someone who does not speak much of the same language – you are not going to speak of feelings or tell involved tales, you are going to ask where the bathroom is, and how much the beer costs. 

His speech however has been in full flow! With no pesky wifely interjections he can tell long Nordic sagas whilst I can only listen and nod along. If the occasion should arise that I should need to leave the room to feed the baby I can only hope I have the chance to catch his eye before I go in case he continues telling the story to an empty room.

Rather than calling out from room to room with a list of tasks I think he should be doing, if I want to speak to him I need first to make sure I have his attention. A touch on his arm, and eye contact needs to precede my quiet murmurs – or else all the effort is blown off in the wind. Nordic sagas aside I did at one point remind him that he need not whisper back to me, but there is something nice about looking your beloved in the eye and speaking the quiet important things that need to be said in the day.

Silence has interesting resonances. Pesky, frustrating at times, but on occasion the unsaid, or quietly just barely spoken connects us all.