The Music Has Returned

After Levi died, I couldn't handle music, especially lullabies and worship songs. I would turn the radio off in the car, or at least turn it to a secular station. I stopped singing lullabies to Aidan. I started stalling when it was time to leave for church, just to make sure we missed at least part, if not all, of the music. When we did make in time for the worship portion, I never sang. I distinctly remember my first week back. We actually got there early because I didn't want to run into people who would feel sorry for me. I could see it in everyone's face. So Josh and I sat in the auditorium before anyone else got there. When the music began, I pulled out my phone and started texting. There have been weeks when the words of the songs caused me to sit down and sob. There have been weeks when the words of the songs cause me to walk out of the auditorium. You see, music moves me. I don't know why. It just does. And songs about God's love and healing and goodness were hard for me to handle in those early days. Songs about babies were hard for me handle in those early days.

Singing has been a struggle for me since Levi's death. Part of me will want to, but another part clamps my mouth shut saying, "You're not ready for this." So, I've spent a lot of weeks with tears in my eyes listening to the words with internal turmoil about whether or not I should join in. I don't remember how long after Levi's death it was, but I was beginning to be able to sing again, when one Wednesday night we had a guest worship leader, and he sang "Blessed Be Your Name." He reached the bridge, "You give and take away," and it was over for me. When we first returned to church, I spent several weeks in fear of hearing this song and gearing myself up for it, but it never came, and I wasn't prepared for it when it finally appeared. I couldn't sing anymore. The only thing anchoring me to my spot was my friend's arm around my waist because she sensed I was having a difficult time. I wanted to run. The music was gone.

I didn't realize I had stopped singing lullabies to Aidan, and I didn't realize that he had missed them, but a few weeks after Quinn was born, Aidan climbed into my lap and asked me to sing the "mama buys song" (Hush Little Baby). It was then that it dawned on me that I had started singing again. It was also then that I realized I had denied Aidan the comfort of a mother's lullaby. He was two when Levi died. He was only two when I stopped singing to him. I didn't completely deprieve him of music. We listened to children's songs, such as "A Bear Climbed Over the Mountain" and "There's a Hole in my Bucket." We also would listen to Backyardigan CDs, but for almost two years, I never held him and sang to him.

I can now sing to Aidan and Quinn whenever it is requested of me or whenever one or both of my children need a little cuddle time. Last night at church, I caught myself singing again. In fact, I've caught myself singing the past few weeks, and it hasn't floored me. The music has returned. Sure, there are still some songs I can't sing along with yet, but they no longer give me the urge to flee from the room. I can listen and savor that my God is indeed healing me. He is giving me my life back, albeit not complete, for I will always have a Levi shaped hole in my heart, but I am moving on and embracing life again. I give myself grace in the hard moments because things do still tend to jump out and cause me to grieve him all over again; but my family, my living children, my friends, all give me reasons to smile and laugh and sing and love life once again.