>It is amazing how one can have the worst singing voice in the world, yet when you sing to your child, it becomes the most beautiful to them. When Evan was not so big, I sang to him all of the time. When he was a colicky baby. When he was a rambunctious toddler, fighting sleep. And he would stare at me with those big brown eyes of his, until those eyes got heavy and he would drift off. They were “our” songs. Not standard lullabyes, but popular hits whose lyrics had special meaning. “To Make You Feel My Love”, “Beautiful Boy”, “Your Song”, “Baby Mine”.
The other day, Zachary was fussy, and out of habit, I started to sing one of those songs (can’t remember which). Evan walked into the room and heard. He looked absolutely crestfallen.
“Mama, that’s my song”, he said.
He’s right. Those songs are special for Evan and I. To this day, when I hear one of them, I am taken back to the time when he fit into the crook of my arm. To the day when I was his own personal superhero, able to fix all that was wrong in his world. The love and wonder and amazement I have felt watching him grow washes over me once again. He’s right. They are his songs. Zachary needs songs of his own. To sing Evan’s songs to Zach feels like I am cheating Evan. And cheating Zach. Those songs need to stay special for Evan. And Zach does not deserve second-hand lullabyes.
There are a few songs I would hear when pregnant with Zach, when we were struggling just to maintain the pregnancy, and thus his whole existence. I would sit up, late at night, and listen to the words and cry for my unborn baby. Tears of worry and hope and love. Those are Zach’s songs. I just have to learn the words.