June 22, 2012
I lost my voice, you see.
At first I thought it was pneumonia stuck inside my chest making my ears and throat blare with a raw soreness. Then my capacity to breathe became overwhelmed and I wheezed through every inhale and exhale. Headaches, loss of energy, consumption of pity on my part. Over a week I lived like this until finally Chup convinced me to visit the Instacare on a slow, hot Sunday afternoon. Given Anson's fascination with medical instruments lately, I convinced him to come with me.
But all of those instruments, poked, prodding, pinched their way into a staggering diagnosis:
Nothing is wrong with me.
That is to say, my body was not infected, terminal, or plagued with something viral.
My symptoms were nothing but manifestations of allergies.
Cottonwood, the doctor told me. Really bad this year.
I've never had an allergen a day in my life.
We walked out into the parking lot, a new view on my new life and I lost my voice.
Completely.
And it really hasn't made a full recovery and for some reason it has effected my blogging voice as well. I kept thinking, as soon as my voice comes back I can start writing again.
Silly, isn't it?
Listen, tonight my house is dark and quiet, the swamp cooler is humming from the Green Room. I spent all the voice I had on pretending I was a frontman for Anson and Ever's band (Anson passionately plays guitar, Ever is a wizard on the drums) we cover a variety of tunes, Vampire Weekend, Neon Trees, Imagine Dragons and Adele (Ever thinks it's A-bell and she says Ding Dong when we mention her) and now I have just a little tiny bit of voice left over to say one thing and this is what I want to say:
Man, am I in love with my baby Erin.
Head over the high hills in love, rapture and inexplicable joy when I think about her. What hormone is this? I can't remember, did I feel this way for all my babes? I want to saddle the future for her, insure that she's throned and feted, educated and celebrated. Since her arrival I've noticed a change inside of me, a roping off of the good and the ugly, the desire to quit myself, commit to kindness and own up to the power I know that exists inside of me as a female.
Is this what babies do?
Make us better people?
I'll take twenty more.
I love you Erin Caroline Kendrick, thanks for the twinkle eyes.
Shhh. Good night.
At first I thought it was pneumonia stuck inside my chest making my ears and throat blare with a raw soreness. Then my capacity to breathe became overwhelmed and I wheezed through every inhale and exhale. Headaches, loss of energy, consumption of pity on my part. Over a week I lived like this until finally Chup convinced me to visit the Instacare on a slow, hot Sunday afternoon. Given Anson's fascination with medical instruments lately, I convinced him to come with me.
But all of those instruments, poked, prodding, pinched their way into a staggering diagnosis:
Nothing is wrong with me.
That is to say, my body was not infected, terminal, or plagued with something viral.
My symptoms were nothing but manifestations of allergies.
Cottonwood, the doctor told me. Really bad this year.
I've never had an allergen a day in my life.
We walked out into the parking lot, a new view on my new life and I lost my voice.
Completely.
And it really hasn't made a full recovery and for some reason it has effected my blogging voice as well. I kept thinking, as soon as my voice comes back I can start writing again.
Silly, isn't it?
Listen, tonight my house is dark and quiet, the swamp cooler is humming from the Green Room. I spent all the voice I had on pretending I was a frontman for Anson and Ever's band (Anson passionately plays guitar, Ever is a wizard on the drums) we cover a variety of tunes, Vampire Weekend, Neon Trees, Imagine Dragons and Adele (Ever thinks it's A-bell and she says Ding Dong when we mention her) and now I have just a little tiny bit of voice left over to say one thing and this is what I want to say:
Man, am I in love with my baby Erin.
Head over the high hills in love, rapture and inexplicable joy when I think about her. What hormone is this? I can't remember, did I feel this way for all my babes? I want to saddle the future for her, insure that she's throned and feted, educated and celebrated. Since her arrival I've noticed a change inside of me, a roping off of the good and the ugly, the desire to quit myself, commit to kindness and own up to the power I know that exists inside of me as a female.
Is this what babies do?
Make us better people?
I'll take twenty more.
I love you Erin Caroline Kendrick, thanks for the twinkle eyes.
Shhh. Good night.
