I have what I tend to think of as a soundtrack to my life. There are songs I hear that immediately take me back in time, songs that I associate with certain persons and songs that later come to be rich with meaning because of my experience and how they seem to fit.

Music can be healing. Is there a soundtrack to your life? Music that you associate with your pregnancy or your baby? Music that you associate with your loss? Music that you found particularly healing?

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There was a song that came out just around the time Gabe was born - Kenny Chesney and Dave Matthews called "I'm Alive" - the chorus goes "I'm alive and well/and today, you know, that's good enough for me/breathing in and out's a blessing can't you see/today's the first day of the rest of my life/ and I'm alive."

I listened to that and found it comforting when all I could do was breathe in and out. And while it hurt a bit, I could appreciate then as I never could before how starkly beautful that is.

Another song that I couldn't listen to for a very long time, but that is heart-twistingly comforting is by Gary Allen - "Life Ain't Beautiful" - I felt a lot more healed when I could listen to that and take a breath in and nod my head. These days I sing it, loudly.

Heard something today as my husband drove me around...some song which of course the radio gave no title or artist to, but I'm sure it's called "Because of you" simply because it occurs so many times in the lyrics...I'm not sure it's comforting but it surely seems to describe the way I'm feeling.

I heard John's Mayer's "Dreaming With a Broken Heart" when we drove home from the appointment where we discovered Will died. It was very, very cold out. And I remember the Mississippi river was frozen over...and I remember crying and watching the icy water.

There are lots and lots. One in particular is the song by James Blunt - "You're Beautiful". By the time we reached SCBU, having had everyone rush into the delivery room and whisk him away, I had one verse going round my head:-

"You're beautiful, it's true. I saw your face, in a crowded place, and I can't believe it's true."

It's a song about loss - and I knew, I just knew, I was going to lose him.

Songs are often very closely tied to my memories, and there are some I love that I won't play often in case I lose the connection with that special moment.

At Max's funeral we played "If I had words" by Yvonne Keeley. I'd always liked it, but suddenly the song made perfect sense - the words found their application in my life. Now I can't hear it without crying buckets.

If I had words to make a day for you
I'd sing you a morning, golden and new
I would make this day last for all time
Give you a night deep in moonshine.

It's just those four lines, over and over and over, building into a crescendo. And isn't that what we'd all do for our babies, if we could? I've always loved writing and I think words can be powerful and beautiful, so this verse just says it all, really.

"Beautiful Boy," originally by John Lennon, but the version by Ben Harper, played a LOT during my pregnancy and during my labor as well. I've since been unable to listen to it, but have sung it to Otis many times in my grief.

When my oldest turned one I created a CD party favor to give out. Many of the songs are ones I think of for Cullen- especially Godspeed. I posted about the origin of that song on the blog this week. It comes from a place of such sadness longing. The writer says that years later he still gets letters from bereaved parents thanking him for writing/sharing it.

I am also listing to The incredible Machine right now- I don't know why but it resonates with me. the heart really is an amazing thing. I would give anything to hear his again.

Feels like I’m flying,
Wings made of light
Brand new and shining
Like a shot rung out through the night

A heart that beats, an Incredible Machine
Made of blood and love and hope and lust and steam
Calling, calling, calling

Feels like i’m floating
Weightless in flight
Planets exploding as the soul and gravity fight

A heart that beats, an Incredible Machine
Made of blood and love and hope and lust and steam
Calling, calling, calling

Lifted higher mercury skies above (above, above)
Calling, water fire burning a sign of love (of love, of love)

A heart that beats, an Incredible Machine
Made of blood and love and hope and lust and steam
Calling, calling, calling, calling

I avoid meaningful music whenever possible. (My living child is obsessed with the Beatles but has learned to skip Yesterday without me even asking. Her other choices can barely be called music.) My husband listens to mostly Top 40 crap so it's not a danger to me. I am afraid to listen to the songs other babyloss moms post on their blogs for fear that it would open up a wound so deep it will never close up again.

I avoid music too, Cara. Everyone in my world has started wearing earphones so I don't ask them to turn their music off.

There are a handful of songs that I associate with my children. Sometimes I can't listen to them without my heart breaking wide open again, and so I mostly avoid them; but other times I seek them out just for that reason. To be broken wide open again.

Right after Noah died, I listened to "The Chain" by Ingrid Michaelson, and "The Last Day on Earth" by Kate Miller-Heidke on repeat for days and days. I lay curled in my computer chair, or with my head down on the cold hard desk, and listened, numb, unaware of the passing of time. When I had no words to help me navigate, these songs held me. When I came around to my grief, finally, over Ailis, I listened to "Incomplete Lullaby" by Lisa Mitchell.

More recently "A Bird's Song" by Ingrid Michaelson is the one I relate most strongly to LIssie, and for Noah it is "Last of Days" by A Fine Frenzy. Either can make me smile -- or reduce me to tears -- depending on the day. "Keep Breathing" by Ingrid Michaelson is my forgiving myself song. (I highly recommend it, mamas.)

All of these songs are beautiful. But loaded and dangerous, too. Music is such a powerful thing. It still amazes me constantly.

July Flame was the first child, the line in it talking about fireworks that said "They're so beautiful, so tell me why it hurts..." since I remember having to sit there pretending everything was okay and that it was a normal 4th of July. We knew the baby was dead but my body didn't realize it till the 7th.

Run by Amy MacDonald was for my daughter. "Will you tell me when the lights are fading, 'cause I can't see, I can't see no more."

Oh yes, Amy Macdonald. A girl with wisdom in her words beyond her years. For me it is "Spark" - I wrote about it here
http://www.freddiesblanket.co.uk/?p=26
It is the most beautiful song and the video seems to shriek "I'm here, I'm here" to me on the days when Freddie just seems so far away.

Merry I did not realize you had the other blog. Thank you for sharing....

Leslie, it is just a copy of my main one, for people who don't want to read the home ed family stuff. Was building it at the weekend.