My friend is in the hospital at the moment. Right now, those who ask me how she is doing… don’t get much out of me. Partly due to confidentiality reasons, partly from my own anxiety.Last night we sat and had her ipod between us watching her belly roll and bounce. It was nice to just sit and listen to the music, think of the words and talk. For now she has been given more hope than she’s had in the last few weeks. Now pay attention. This may not ever happen again.
“Thank you neo-natal pathologist, super duper OB and perinatologist who scares the living daylights out of me!”
God… I think I’m getting a rash.
Any way.
We got to talking about music she may want to have at her birth. I’m trying to make sure this birth is not as traumatic as either of her other ones. Her husband is charged with the duty of staying with the baby for the ENTIRE process after it is born. I am charged with her mental and emotional well-being. no pressure right? 
We spent the night going over what was not acceptable. Well then… that leaves ummmmm maybe two Beatles songs and perhaps one or two others floating out there on i-Tunes. Between the two of us it was insane how we could rationalize what could not be played. We talked about my being pissed at the husband for leaving the LoTR CD at the school when I was labouring with wee girlie *note we were all too busy telling jokes and laughing at chickens during midsized boys birth to bother with music*
I was desperate to hear Annie Lennox and Mr. Shore in those last few hours… In hindsight. I’m glad it wasn’t around. Despite having named wee girlie after our favourite character from the books. Long before Mr. Jackson went and made that amazing film trilogy of the books. thank you very much! In all honesty I was leaning towards not giving her the name she has… until she was born and we didn’t have any time to discuss it. In the end, we had no choice but to give her a name that was strong and brave. Because that is what we all had to be in the end. Brave and strong.
I sometimes wonder if the outcome of wee girlie’s birth would have been the same if I’d been entrenched in these words
In to the West -Words and music by Fran Walsh, Howard Shore and Annie Lennox
Lay down Your sweet and weary head Night is falling You have come to journeys end
Sleep now Dream-of the ones who came before They are calling From across a distant shore
Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face? Soon you will see All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms You’re only sleeping
What can you see On the horizon? Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea A pale moon rises The ships have come To carry you home
And all will turn to silver glass A light on the water All souls pass
Hope fades Into the world of night Through shadows of falling Out of memory and time
Don’t say We have come not to the end White shores are calling You and I will meet again
And you’ll be here in my arms Just sleeping
What can you see On the horizon? Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea A pale moon rises The ships have come Too carry you home
And all will turn to Silver glass A light on the water Grey ships will pass Into the West
Yeah… that would have gone over well in my psyche… ahem for lack of a better description…
fuuuuuuuuck that is baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad karma.Needless to say. I have yet to watch any of the movies in the last two years. And once, once I listened to the song. I also went out and bought an Angel Care monitor within the hour and dealt with a massive panic attack while trying to hide it from my father in the middle of a Walmart. Good times I tell you!As it is… It will be going to R when her babe is born and comes home. Any way. The two of us were crying our eyes out when the nurse came tearing in to see why R’s heart-rate was so high! Bad doula! bad bad bad doula! We changed subjects to ‘happy memory songs’. Like I immediately think of blindmama when I hear Enya. Oscar Peterson reminds me of the men on my side of the family… my father (who met him!) and his father (who called me the wee girlie in my childhood) who would happily sit reading a small forest of newpapers while Mr. Peterson provided background music on the cd player… wait… that is a description of my father! I’m so glad the next generation will have this same memory of their grandfather.
I guess this rambling mess is all about the effects music has on our emotions and how music affects us. Husband can tell me all about the physics of it, the thesis’ written upon it, the pure and raw breakdown of the notes, chords and spacing of melodies…
But to me, today, it is the stuff that brings me up when I’m feeling so down. It is what keeps me from the insanity when I hear the ambulance sirens go (I’ve learned to sing really loud in my head to drown it out). It is what gives R the peace to drift off to sleep and wake up thankful it is another day that babe is still alive and kicking inside.
Music is the emotional salve that heals a lot of wounds and helps us stitch up the once that aren’t quite healed yet.
wee girlie finally where she was supposed to be. Safe in my arms just sleeping
