Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Rock Star

I was standing in my kitchen earlier today, and this image flashed on my computer screen:

I had Pandora open on my browser, and as I stared at the picture, the familiar sounds of "na-na-na-nah-na-nah-na, I''m gonna start a fight!" met my ears.

Earlier this week, I read through some of Duncan's story, and one of the lines that most struck me was from the Labor & Delivery chapter:
I pushed – twice only – and the doctor announced, “he’s perfect.  He’s beautiful.”  And Jim wiped his eyes, and reached for the scissors, and cut the cord that had carried, and then failed, Duncan’s life.  We were no longer connected, my baby and me, and my head fell back on the pillows and my mind went blank.
And then, in that post, I went on to write that in the darkness, I heard a refrain:
So what, I'm still a rock star;  
I got my rock moves,  
And I don't need you.
And guess what?  
I'm havin’ more fun,  
And now that we’re done  
I'm gonna show you,

Tonight, I'm alright,  
I'm just fine…..
I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.
I have heard this song countless times, both before the birth of my sweet son, and in the four years (FOUR YEARS!?) since, but as I read what I'd penned during the catharsis of his story-telling, I saw them in a completely new and breathtaking context.

I began to associate the line "...and I don't need you" in the chorus with what I'd written about Jim cutting the umbilical cord that night: "We were no longer connected, my baby and me."

And with that new association was one of the sweetest moments I've had since that night.  Up until this point, it had been hard not to focus on the I-failed-him/my-body-failed-to-sustain-him aspect of Duncan's death.  But now.  Oh!  The peace that flooded my heart with once again seeing and believing the truth that he doesn't need me any longer, for he is in a far better place than here on earth!  For even with all the love I have for him, I'd still be raising him in a broken and hurting world.  He would still be human, and would still sin, and would still need to come to the knowledge of a just God and the saving grace of His Son.

But my sweet boy has never known the truth of this world, only the wonder of heaven, and the words in this chorus took on a whole new life for me this week.  Can you hear him?  Can you hear him whispering to me that night, and on so many nights since?

Mommy, guess what?  
I'm havin’ more fun, (more fun that you can even imagine!)

And now that we’re done
(and it's okay that we're "done;" you did your job for every day you carried and loved me)  
I'm gonna show you,

Tonight, I'm alright, (better than alright, even!)
I'm just fine…..

I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.
(Finer than you could ever dream for me.  I'm perfect now...!)

Oh, dear can't imagine the moment of revelation I had sitting in my living room Tuesday night.  Seriously.  I'm still in awe of the gift of this new "translation" of this song.  (Granted, I'm not stupid; the other 97% of this song does not in any way fit the context of my new interpretation!  But, still.  I can't undo the fact that this is the song he was birthed to, so...there you have it.)


I just felt that I should share this.  I know recent posts -- and most likely, in a few more to come -- there is predominantly sadness and missing.  Because, oh, OH, how I miss him.  I hear Seth talk about his baby brother (ie, James) and my throat aches with the unsaid words, "but he wasn't your first baby brother."  I can't not wonder who he would have been, what he would have looked like, who he would have taken after, what he would have loved to do.... I can't help but still feel that I have a family of 6, and he is the absent puzzle piece.


He is alright.  More than alright.  He's just fine.

And I will be, too.


Tiffany said...

Hey, this was awesome.

Mrs. Frogster said...

I love that. Sometimes God uses the craziest things to bring use a message we need so desperately. Thanks for sharing.