The music was joyful.
Our spirits were lifted by the new life growing inside me.
I sang to my bump the nursery rhymes of my childhood, looking forward to singing them together as he grew.
The music was hopeful.
Singing to my baby in his incubator.
The same three nursery rhymes sung again and again, in the same order.
Hugo loving the sound of his mother’s voice, boogying away to the familiar rhymes.
I hope they comforted him, reminded him of being safe in my womb.
The music was poignant: my rest times were often spent with my music plugged in to my ears, and tears running down my face.
Lyrics from old familiar songs had taken on a new significance, loaded with sentiment that tore my aching heart.
I could not listen to music for a long time.
There was too much poignancy, intense love for the boy I would have laid down my own life for.
Too many other things to make me cry.
The tracks of my tears.
One tear-jerker off the list was good.
The music was sombre, yet celebrated our son’s vitality.
Choosing music for Hugo’s funeral service. Hymns and songs for before and after the service.
We spent a long time choosing – they had to be right.
We had to accept that the songs we chose would never again be enjoyed by us.
But we chose songs we enjoyed.
Songs that have a special meaning to us.
Songs celebrating life.
A tribute to our little boy, our son who fought so hard for life.
These songs now bring a bittersweet smile to our faces, reminding us of a special little boy.
I sing those same three nursery rhymes, in the same order to Hugo at his grave garden.
I imagine him saying “Again, Mummy, again!”
It makes me smile a little, to know how much Hugo loved those rhymes.
But it also breaks my heart all over again to know that we will never sing those rhymes together.
Now, I am able to listen to music again. The joy in music has returned.
But there are some songs I cannot listen to, not yet.
The songs that made the tears roll down my face during my hospital rest time.
They sear my broken heart.
They remind me too much of hope, too much of the intensity of the love I have for my boy.
The intensity of that love deepens ever further.
But the hope is gone.
While the music did not die with Hugo
I now dance to a different melody, a different tune at a different tempo.
Inspired by the Carly Marie Project Heal Day 12: Music