raise my hands, paint my spirit gold

it’s been a hard week. i have literally banged my head against walls in frustration and anger, and i have literally been brought to my knees by desperation and despair. there have been tears and hyperventilation and fits of rage so violent and unwieldy that i came very close to dashing my beloved laptop to bits. thankfully, though, the storm seems to be passing….at least for now.

i have a lot of catching up to do here. Froggy and Auntie Tan and i made a trip to Belgium over a week ago, and since then i’ve been to both Sacré-Cœur and Notre Dame. i have pictures and stories to share, but tonight is not the night for that.

instead, i want to talk about music.

when i was pregnant with little sun, both Froggy and i made playlists for him, and during those long months of sitting nearly stationary on our couch, i played them over and over again for him. both playlists contained songs that were full of emotion and meaning….they were our way of telling little sun about ourselves and about our love for him. on both of our mixes, there were songs in English and French, everything from Stevie Wonder to Radiohead, from Bowie to Björk, from Aznavour to Mademoiselle K…and on both of our playlists there was one Beatles song that we each thought of as his song. we never discussed it, but somehow neither of us was surprised to find “Here Comes the Sun” on the other’s list. the last time that song played without one of us immediately pressing the skip button was at little sun’s funeral. it was the exit song, the one that was played after the much too tiny white coffin had been carried out of the room, so very far away from us.

since then, there’s been a different soundtrack to our lives. Asaf Avidan’s Different Pulses and Reckoning Song, Björk’s version of Gloomy Sunday, Piaf’s L’Hymne à l’amour, Alain Baschung’s La nuit je mens & William Sheller’s Un Homme Heureux, each of these songs has the power to bring me to tears again and again, yet again and again, i find myself searching them out.

i don’t want to always be like this, a woman frozen in timeless, endless grief.  i want to be happy again (quel que soit le temps que ça prenne, quel que soit l´enjeu), and most of all, i want to know the joy of seeing my child(ren) go from faint flutters in my belly to rosy, kissable cheeks and sweet little shoulders that i (someday) have to stretch a bit to embrace.

before i became pregnant with little sun, i sent out a request, a prayer of sorts, i guess, asking for a little soul to choose me and Froggy as parents.  i promised this little soul that we would love him no matter what and that would give him a life filled with love and acceptance.  i suppose, in a way, we kept this promise to the little soul that was little sun, even if our time with him was far too short.

now that we have begun the process of trying to make a little brother or sister for our little sun, i’ve found myself sending out a similar requestprayer for another little soul.  i’ve realized, though, that all the sadness surrounding me might not be the most inviting of atmospheres to a little soul searching for a home. and so i have begun to add some new songs to my playlist.

sometimes my battered heart forgets its way with words, but music has never failed to find the right ones for me.   this is what i want to tell that new little soul, this is what she needs to know:

And I came home
Like a stone
And I fell heavy into your arms
These days of darkness
Which we’ve known
Will blow away with this new sun

And I’ll kneel down
Wait for now
And I’ll kneel down
Know my ground

And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

So break my step
And relent
You forgave and I won’t forget
Know what we’ve seen
And him with less
Now in some way
Shake the excess

But I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

So I’ll be bold
As well as strong
And use my head alongside my heart
So tame my flesh
And fix my eyes
That tethered mind free from the lies

But I’ll kneel down
Wait for now
I’ll kneel down
Know my ground

Raise my hands
Paint my spirit gold
And bow my head
Keep my heart slow

Cause I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

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5 thoughts on “raise my hands, paint my spirit gold

  1. Sadie

    I too, sometimes worry that my sadness, frustration and worry over the many months of trying have not created the most inviting environment for a new little soul to settle. Like that would somehow explain our infertility. Still, it certainly doesn’t hurt to smile, to wish, to feel hopeful too.

    This is beautiful. Battered heart or no, I still think you have a way with words. I have everything crossed that as I type this, there is a new little soul burrowing in for the long haul.

    Reply
  2. Isa

    Chills. Do you have Patty Griffin’s Impossible Dream album in your lineup? Kite song and When it don’t come easy are both amazing. And I think there is something to be said for offering a little soul everything you have to offer. Being sad about little sun doesn’t mean you won’t be good, warm, loving parents to your next baby–if anything I think it means you will be more present for them. And I hope there is a little soul out there waiting for a chance to take you up on that offer, and soon.

    Reply
  3. Suzanne

    As always, this is a beautiful and moving post. Thank you. And yes, the waves of grief and anger and despair and near violence are all too familiar to me. I’m so sorry that you are in that world. I know what it tastes and smells like.

    I want to be happy, too. I miss the person I used to be. I miss my innocence. I worry about having another baby, because I have learned that there is nothing in the world that is certain, and that everything – my entire reality – can change in a moment.

    But I feel differently than I did six months after my loss. And I feel differently from one year from my loss. My grief has changed shape. I have evolved around it, and it’s not always pretty.

    Be patient with yourself, mama. So recently little sun was here with you and Froggy.

    I don’t know if you’re reading books about baby loss, but one of my favorites has been The Blue Poppy and the Mustard Seed by Kathleen Willis Morton. If you are interested in reading it, you could email me your address, I would gladly send my copy along to you <3

    hugs to you and froggy and sun <3

    Reply
  4. HunterJohn

    Big hugs to you guys. I too am trying to be happier. My acupuncturist told me that life will not grow in turmoil. I know she is right so I am pushing through the sadness to try and be happy. I use that song to help motivate me and keep me pushing. I often ask Hunter to send me another soul to be his bother or sister. I hope we both get to happier times.

    Reply

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