If you know me, you know the most important thing in the whole world to me is my son, Foster. Not to be cliche, but I have always known more than anything else in life I wanted to be a mother. After years of getting most of our selfishness out of the way and meeting our pact goal of "a kid at 30", my husband and I joyfully found out we were expecting in November of 2016. Ecstatic, we were given a due date of July 11th 2017 and told from my second appointment that we were "going to have a big kid on our hands" (there is a follow up to this later). Bare with me, we will get to the music, trust me.
I was an extremely happy and calm pregnant lady. We found out we were having a boy and chose a name that reflected things that my husband and I love: movies and music. Foster comes from the main character in the film Citizen Kane, my husbands most favorite movie of all time. I chose Isaac from Isaac Brock, the lead singer of Modest Mouse, a band that not only has helped me a ton through my life, I consider him an amazing wordsmith and song writer (I definitely understand the mainstream decline that occurred with We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank and forward... but I digress). His name also means "To encourage Laughter" - humor is something our family holds in high regard. Fast forward to my last month of pregnancy. I am swollen and now in the high-risk realm. My blood pressure is at a consistent 140-180 systolic number, constantly having to go get 2 hour blood pressure readings etc. I am never put on bed rest or light duty from work, never given any meds to help manage my BP before the birth of my son. Foster, being the firecracker he is also flipped back into breech, and I was faced with agreeing to a c-section or going through a manual "turning" of the baby - which is physically stressful and harmful to mother and child. I opted for the c-section, which the dates changed 3 times due to my blood pressure issues. The final date became June 19th, with 4 days notice.
My husband and I dealt with this and prepared to meet our sweet boy the day after Father's Day. We wake up, leave for the hospital, prepare and I am wheeled back for my spinal tap (which I was told I was the model patient for thank you very much - I didn't even move, because even at my most scared and terrified, I was so stoked I would be meeting my kid.) My husband meets me in the room and everything seems to be fine they announce they have a baby boy, I hold him for 2 minutes and they take him to get him all prepped for snuggles... or so I thought. My doctor neglected to mention that Foster was in the last week of lung development and failed to give him the boost he needed in utero, and then they notice him "tugging" for breath. Granted, I am being stitched up, and none of this is being relayed to me clearly or directly. I am wheeled into recovery where I am slowly greeted by my husband and then a slew of men in suit explaining to me the best option for my son who is "struggling to breathe" is going to be transported to the next state over while I remain to heal in our small town. I'm drugged up and don't comprehend until I am in my hospital room and this is the next time I see my son:
I have never really showed this photo to anyone. My husband of course goes with my son and his mother accompanies him. And here I am sitting alone, in a room confused, sad and angry. I continue to push forward through my recovery and meet all of my goals in one day for release so I can rush to be with my son. My husband tirelessly driving between the two of us. Any information I can get is either through my husband or relayed phone calls. I am kept in the postpartum ward, so as I am in my room I hear happy families and the cries of newborns around me, as I sit by myself waiting to be released. This torture occurred for 2 and a half days. We lived too close to stay at the Ronald McDonald House at the Children's hospital. So for a week, my body wrecked from a c-section, tired and full of anger, along with my equally confused, angry and strong husband drove 45 minutes back and forth to see my son, attempt to figure out schedule of doctors rounds so we could learn information about our son that was tough to come by sometimes. 45 minutes to just hold him or even deliver breast milk for nursing. I remained calm and cool for the most part, despite my burning sadness and anger (that later manifested into near suicidal and debilitating postpartum depression that still lingers in weird ways) until one day on our drive home we hit the bridge that goes over the Savannah River and a particular song broke me.
I joke with my husband all of the time about how 82% of the time he only listens to Queens of the Stone Age. Our son was born around their hit release Like Clockwork. My husband was listening to that album endlessly. I had heard the songs over and over and in my numbness they faded into the background. But then this time around the track "Kalopsia" came on. The slow, quiet, lullaby-esque beginning drew me in, almost like a Siren's call. And then that damn first aggressive verse came. Josh Homme shouts:
Oh why you so sad? What have they done? Forget those mindless baboons They're off playing god
Copy cats in cheap suits Are playing it safe While cannibals of bad news Consume a parade
And I fucking broke. I cried. I screamed. I was angry and did not understand our situation. How the "mindless baboon" Doctor made ill informed decisions for the end of the pregnancy and beginning of my son's earth-side life, while almost literally in a position of a God with our health. Then in enough time to feel that flood of raw, emotion and love the song lulls back into that Siren's call bringing you back to the facade of wonderful that is the appearances of being a human. The song calls to you "Isn't it wonderful!?" and continues:
Far, far from shore Land of nightmares Gone forever more
And I love you more Than I can control I don't even try Why would I?
And then crashes back into a reality that I was all familiar with:
Oh why the long face? You've got it all wrong Forget the rat in the race We'll choke chain them all
This was what I wanted. I wanted to find each person that was careless or irresponsible with our lives and beat the shit out of them, it was all careless and unnecessary. But, this song found me at such a happenstance moment, but it gave me the tools to understand and express how I felt, a pain and anger that I wouldn't wish on my enemy. As mentioned in my second post about my love song playlist on Spotfy, there are only two songs in this whole world that will make me cry. "Into My Arms' by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and this one.
I have shared the song below, give it a listen. Comment an emotional song for you below.
And as a close, despite the chaos, Foster will be 4 years old in 11 days. He starts school in the fall and as his first doctor predicted, he stands at 3'7" almost 3'8" and is as smart and emotionally wonderful as can be.