After ten or so classes and much practice at home, Johnathan took his Orange Belt test for Sanchin-Ryu Karate this morning. The class started out with at least a dozen kids/parents but, as you can see, whittled down significantly over the weeks. We’re quite proud and I’m hoping that this might even become a theme within the household.
So, Dax Riggs has been in my musical cycle via Acid Bath since high school, but in the past few months I’ve begun gathering up the more recent work that he’s done and it’s completely taken my breath away. More often than not when I’m listening to an album I can’t help but run to grab a guitar and try to play along. Here’s a particularly beautiful ballad that I worked out tonight.
Terrors of Nightlife by: Dax Riggs We Sing Of Only Blood Or Love C F C I laid all I own at the devil's feet C F C and I have placed a rose between the angel's teeth G C night lay beside me, night lay beside me C F C I wish you could hear what I hear when I’m out there C F C the stars all seem to burn and scream into the atmosphere G C night lay beside me, night lay beside me C F C may grief fall away like leaves from the trees C F C may grief fall away like leaves from the trees G C and night lay beside me, only night lay beside me
“You are still a mom you know.” The nurse said, after she wished me a happy mother’s day. I didn’t bother explaining to her that I already had a child at home, and that the 12.4 ounce, 10 inch long, tiny human that lived for only an hour in my arms the day before was not my only son. We held him again that day- for some reason the discharge nurse in the labor and delivery unit thought we should say our last goodbyes to our baby, and brought his cold stiff body to us wrapped in a warm blanket. That was the last time we saw him. Some mother’s day. I am still trying to erase that lifeless image from my mind and hold on to the memories of the day before, those bitter sweet moments we had with such a beautiful baby boy, who opened and shut his mouth, moved his arms around in the air, and finally folded them together to rest sweetly under his chin. Such a beautiful boy he was, despite his tiny size.
I often wonder if the well meaning woman that wished me a “happy” mother’s day would have done the same had I gone into labor a week earlier. You see- medically, technically, legally, a life started in the womb that is expelled before twenty weeks gestation is considered a miscarriage. Anyone born after the twenty week line is considered to be a live birth, or if deceased in utero, a stillbirth. My placental abruption occurred at 16 weeks, and that lively little guy who was measured and photographed countless times through ultrasound and proclaimed healthy and perfect survived in my failing, bleeding body for another four weeks. Jeremy was the gestational age of twenty weeks and three days when he was born. Earned his birth certificate, which was immediately followed by the completion of his certificate of death. Is it really just three days, that makes the difference between the sprout and the bean?
So, know that I love you all, and I know it’s selfish, but you’ll just have to excuse me if I am a little less than enthusiastic about mother’s day. I wonder if it will ever be the same again for me, even with the joy I have for my living children, and the love and appreciation I have for our moms and grandmoms. It’s funny how I felt so needy of attention the first year, afraid to be left alone, offended when neglected. This May I just want to be left alone with my boys and supportive husband… or in a dark closet with some tequila and a teddy bear.
