I remember this feeling........

The New Silence

By Danielle Kazemi

Before my sons were born, the most common piece of advice I received was to enjoy the quiet time I had. Once the baby was born, I was never going to get that time again. Unlike many of the other things that I was told, these words were right.


My first son was the quiet baby. He rarely cried, but that may have been from being constantly held by either me or my husband. When my second son was born, though, he was proud to declare to the entire world when he was in need of something. From morning until night, which was quickly becoming a blur to me, he would cry. It got to the point where I could no longer hear myself think, and sometimes I would wake from sleep believing that I was hearing him cry. I was running on automatic. My friends would laugh when I told them that if someone drew my blood, they would find it mysteriously replaced by coffee.


The worst part was that when he would cry, it would make his older brother cry, too. This would make me fuss with my husband to help me, but I had to raise my voice to an almost shouting level for him to be able to hear me over the crying. I am surprised the neighbors did not think we were fighting with each other every day.


Just when I thought I couldn't handle any more, my sons and my husband came down with a cold, which caused them to take some medicine that put them to sleep. I placed the baby down in his crib and slowly backed out of the room. Finally, I had the alone time I deserved. I drew myself a warm bath, which I had not had since he was born, and relaxed. After thirty minutes, I got up and went into the living room to read the book I had wanted to read for the past few months. But even though no one else was awake, I wasn't able to concentrate on my book for some reason.

 I placed the book down on the couch and walked over to my baby's crib. He was sleeping with his mouth slightly open. I smiled and walked out of the room, hoping not to wake him, and returned to my book. The words were not making sense to me. I was too distracted to read. I flipped through a few of the remaining pages and closed the book. I looked around the room. There were toys on the ground, plates in the sink, and clothes to be put into the washing machine. There were plenty of things I could do. It just didn't seem right. There was something wrong.


I turned on the television. Maybe some noise would help me to get back on track. I found the television show to be annoying. I didn't want to watch it. I turned it off and continued to sit on the couch and think. Something was out of place. Then it hit me. There was no noise in my house. There was no crying, laughing or yelling at each other. There was just silence.

 I went to every room and checked on the patients. They were all asleep. I peered down at my younger son asleep in his crib. Then I did the one thing I knew I should not do -- I poked him. Not a hard poke -- just enough to wake him up. He stirred for a moment before returning to his slumber state. I ran my finger along his soft cheek, trying to nudge him awake. The same response. So I poked him again. It wasn't until the fourth or fifth poke that he started to really move around and open his eyes. Then I heard the most wonderful sound in the world -- his cry.

 "There, there. It's okay. Mommy's here," I told him as I picked him up. He immediately stopped crying and returned to sleep. This time, I walked with him back into the living room and sat with him against me. Even though I could barely hear it, his breathing was enough noise for me.

 People were right when they said that the time I had alone when I was pregnant was never going to happen again. But what they didn't realize is that I wouldn't want it any other way.

There are times when silence has the loudest voice.

~Leroy Browlow