Flashbacks

I just remembered that we took the ipod dock to the hospital with us on “Induction Day”. I suppose that would be a pretty normal thing for me to pack, considering my love of music, but today for some reason, it strikes me as really odd.

Blinn and I were – of course – incredibly emotional throughout the days surrounding being admitted into St. Charles, but after a little while, we just became numb and we were very methodical about things.

Bath robe and slippers packed? Check. I wanted to be comfortable and as modest as possible, for as long as possible.
Celtic Daily Prayer packed? Check. I was with it enough to know that we might want to read a prayer or a blessing over our dead child.
Cell phone chargers and laptop? Check. We had lots of people to contact and update along the way. Also, we didn’t know how long things would take or what exactly to expect to Blinn brought the laptop to take advantage of the free wifi and surf the ‘net if he got bored.
Snacks? Check. We all know how awful hospital food is.
ipod and dock? Check. Oh wait. I’d been compiling a list of songs for labor and delivery for probably over a year at that point, just jotting songs down as they came to mind, but someone none of those seemed to fit the situation. In addition to that, I had started a list of anti-conventional lullabies to play for our baby. (Both of those lists are still being composed, by the way.)
Yeah, so the ipod came to the hospital with us, but for a different purpose than originally planned. The sheer fact that anything accompanied me to a hospital is so foreign to me. What a freaking mess. Turns out the only tunes I ever requested were the soothing sounds of Linford Detweiler’s solo albums. I remember speaking with such urgency in my voice as I asked Blinn to put the music on. A mystery.

If I have it my way, one day I’ll be in labor on my own without the use of any drugs telling my body to speed things up. Then, if the mood strikes me, I’ll have thousands of songs at my fingertips and the ipod will provide a soundtrack for the birth of my living child in the setting of my choice. There won’t be machines beeping and dozens of people scurrying in and out of the room. It will happen - one day.

On a different note, today would have been Mark Palmer’s 35th birthday. I still miss him a lot. I think of him often throughout my week. I often wonder what things would be different about my life now if he was still alive. I found this old post that his wife Amy wrote on this day three years ago. Its tragically beautiful.