March 6, 2003.
It was a Thursday. Cold, like, -40 cold.
I hadn’t slept in 2 days and I had just brought a 9 pound, 5 oz baby into the world without the benefit of drugs.
I still looked pregnant. Everything felt sore and wrong. I wanted to sleep and eat and shower, all at the same glorious time, and I couldn’t do any of it.
To top the whole thing off, I was in charge of this small, screaming person.
I was in a place that smelled and felt and looked weird, and my whole world had turned inside out on itself, and I was supposed to be someone’s mom, now.
I had no idea how to do that.
So I cried for a while. Didn’t help. I tried all the things the nurses suggested, trying not to feel stupid that someone else had to tell me what to do.
And when we were alone, finally, I stared at his little face. With its perfect little upturned nose. And a million little eyelashes, and a chin that looked like it would have my dimple, one day. His wild swirls of hair, his pink fingernails, his fuzzy little back.
I still didn’t feel like I knew how to be a mom. But I knew I loved him. And I figured that might just be a big part of it.
And so, I sang to him. A song whose lyrics I would later realize, upon deeper analysis, were all kinds of emotionally fucked up. Which, in retrospect, was absolutely perfect for that moment.
Day 7 – A Song That Reminds You of a Certain Event
You Are My Sunshine
Praying to Darwin 
i still love this song, despite the all kinda fucked up lyrics.
And I didn’t even know all the verses! It’s incredibly sad and passive aggressive.
I think you’ve come close to the perfect summary of the first day! I remember when my eldest was about eight hours old, it began to snow. Explaining snow to someone who doesn’t speak your language, doesn’t care and is sleeping seems pretty futile; but, at the time, it was so important. I wanted so badly to share the world with her and all she needed was her little few square feet of comfort.
That’s beautiful.
My mother used to sing this to me when I was a little girl
Kind of timeless, isn’t it?
I still sing this song to my boyos, Nick Disaster still hears it every night before bed, doesn’t matter about the lyrics, most children’s songs are dark and morbid, Rock a bye Baby, hell that song scares me so much i ‘ve changed the lyrics, still this is good stuff, i don’t know what it’s like to give birth but i do know what it’s like to be looking at that little dude and being completely and totally lost and completely and totally in love…
I. KNOW. The first time I tried rock a bye baby, I had to stop.
Glad to see you back Ginny. Once the cork is popped on personal lyricism, it can’t be replaced. At least not for long.
I love the bitter-sweet feel in your writing.
Thanks so much, Michael. Good to be back.
Happy Birthday to your son (three weeks belated).
Happy Birthday to me (today).
That’s a freaky bit of coincidence, right there.
I sang too. ‘Strange & beautiful are the stars tonight, that dance around your head.’ Blue Rodeo’s Lost Together. I didn’t know all the words then, but I could see the stars in his little, searching eyes, and I was lost — in the best possible way. I looked at the lyrics just now, and I don’t think they meant it to be love song from mother to son, but it works. What’s motherhood if not ‘stumbling from one distaster to another’…
I always knew I liked you. That song makes an appearance later in this list…
(I am getting more than a little teary picturing you singing that to a newborn B.)