Music and Pregnancy

(No. Not pregnant). 

There has to be a kind of mind, that uses music to gauge things, remember things, and just associate any and everything with songs. I have this kind of mind. My dad probably does, too. For some people, it’s scents, books, places, etc. What a powerful and wonderful little part of life. 

In watching “Dead to Me” on Netflix (crazy good), it dawned on me, that I dealt with certain difficult things in my pregnancy, by listening to certain songs as loudly as I could in my car, and I should start doing that again when I can (as in, when I’m alone). Then I thought about all of the music that represented such a delicate time in my life. My pregnancy with Lyla was magical, terrifying, frustrating, and hopeful all at once. Most pregnancies are all those things, and much more. 

Finding out that I was pregnant 

I found out that I was pregnant on a Tuesday morning, in August. I happened to be off of work that day; my husband, however, was having one of first, busy workdays. I didn’t want to say anything to him until he was home for the day. This also meant that I had to avoid my mom, because I was afraid that if she saw me, she’d know. I wanted my husband to know first. It was the most surreal feeling. I felt like I was in a dream state all day. My head was in the clouds, and no one could know why, which was kind of fun. In trying to keep myself distracted, I left my house to grab lunch, and on the radio “Forever Young” by Rod Stewart was on. I’ve always thought that this was such a dorky song. Pleasant, but super dorky. Cut to me, listing to the words, and sobbing in my car. Needless to say, I love this song now. As a parent, the lyrics are just perfect. 

Driving to many appointments 

My blood pressure while pregnant was really high, and there were some other little things that needed to be routinely checked. At the time, it all felt like the end of the world, and now I couldn’t even tell you what any of my additional OB appointments were about. For most of these, I had to drive to our city’s hospital (lol. city), which is a good 20 minute drive, through a decent amount of traffic. What was that about high blood pressure? This is where “Dead to Me” made me think. Christina Applegate’s character deals with her grief in some pretty dark ways. At one point she claims that her version of “meditation” is screaming along to heavy metal in her car. I know that I’m nowhere near as angry as her character, but I get her. I found her character to be super relatable, which I’m not proud of, for what it’s worth. Back to those OB appointments, that I’m sure I was terrified to go to; had some serious PTSD from Lyla’s CF diagnosis that I hadn’t even begun to process; and I was driving among the dumbest, most backwards population on the planet..Candlebox got me through it. Excuse me what year and lifestyle are we living here? I wouldn’t say that I’m cool enough to know or listen to a ton of hard rock, but I did grow up with it, thanks to my brother. Every once in a while, I’d dabble in some Metallica or Danzig, but it was (and still is) the song “You” by Candlebox, that simultaneously calmed me down, but fed the rage. Personally, I prefer their song “Far Behind,” but it just doesn’t have the right effect, in the right situation 

Lyla’s song 

Seeing as how this pertains to before Lyla was born, I’m leaving out our many current songs (think: “You’ll be in my Heart”). At the aforementioned OB appointments, her movement had to be monitored in my belly. The nurses and I would try everything to get her to wiggle around in there - music, tapping, talking, etc. There was only one thing that got her moving: “Elastic Heart” by Sia. It was so funny. She would move to other things at home and in the car, but when it counted, she needed Sia. She has always been the coolest. I wish that I could say that she loves this song now, but unfortunately Alvin and the Chipmunks don’t cover it, so she’s not interested. It still makes me smile to think about that being her song of choice, when we needed to check on how healthy she was. Even if she doesn’t appreciate that now, she does claim to recognize the theme from “The Office” from when she lived in my belly. Tough and an appreciation of humor? My kind of girl. 

XO, Luci 

Being a CF mother: a confession

I haven’t felt motivated to write about much, so I just haven’t. Simple as that. However, while chatting with my mom, at our Target Starbucks, while Lyla played with her new Princess Jasmine doll and had a cookie, I finally realized something. Something that’s been lurking in my brain and my heart for probably 3.5 years, and something that I’ve been avoiding. Lyla’s diagnosis makes me depressed. 

Yes, I am depressed. It comes and goes; and I do truly believe that we all have to go through our bad days, no matter the situation. This is a little more than a bad day, though. I don’t want sympathy. I don’t want extra donations for our Great Strides walk. I don’t want pity. I certainly don’t want anyone to worry about me. I am functioning just fine, and this is nothing that keeps me in bed all day, although some days I wish that was possible. I just want to say it out loud. 

I prefer to live in a certain state of denial. Lyla is really thriving, and anything terribly negative regarding her having Cystic Fibrosis, just hasn’t really come up that much. Why should I worry about the idea of her having a difficult time conceiving a baby someday (possible), when we could be in our backyard blowing bubbles and laughing and dancing? She may not even want to have children someday (but I hope she does, because she makes my life). We’re so used to our day-to-day treatments and medications, that again, the weight of all of this just doesn’t really dawn on me; until I’m forced to acknowledge it. 

There has definitely been a pattern of my acting out, starting about a week before her clinic appointments, and it usually subsides the second her appointment is over, unless it’s not a great appointment. In my case, it’s irritability and impatience (mostly while driving); wanting to eat junk; not wanting to look presentable (odd for me); and just general inactivity. Luckily, I have a 3 year old and a puppy dog to entertain, daily. They keep me accountable and in check. They get me outside walking and playing; and quiet in the car when I want to scream at someone to “hurry the f up!” It’s fine to keep these things in check, but that doesn’t solve the problem. The “problem” being how I deal with something so heavy and life changing. For the record, I still have no idea how to handle it. I may never quite figure it out. In fact, I’d be shocked if anyone ever did figure it out, completely. 

What’s strange, is what got me really thinking about all of this. I’ve known that things have felt “off” but I haven’t been ready to figure it out. I haven’t even wanted to try. I’m not even sure if I’m ready to try, now. It does feel pretty damn good just admitting how sad this all makes me, though. Back to what got me thinking: as many of you know, we’re taking part in Great Strides this year (a charitable 5K, for Cystic Fibrosis research), and I have genuinely been so touched by how supportive our friends and family have been. Truly, it has been incredible. My mom asked me if I was excited for the walk. And there it was. While I’m excited for Lyla, and my husband who has been a rockstar, the short answer is “not really.” I know how that sounds. It sounds horrible. I can show up and smile, and feel genuinely so appreciative, but it is still a reminder of this genetic disease that my precious baby happens to have; and that could really affect her life negatively down the line. It’s incredibly odd to love someone more than anything in the entire world; but feel hateful of something that’s a huge part of their life. It’s also tricky, because I hope that I’m raising her to have a positive and proactive outlook on her CF, while letting herself feel blue when she needs to feel it. I tell myself that I need to always be so strong for her, but I’m afraid that I can’t keep that up, without some help. 

This is the first thing in my life, that has made me think that it’s time to talk to a therapist. I’m actually looking forward to it, and am starting to think that more people should be open to this kind of self care. 

It’s definitely worth mentioning, that while Lyla’s diagnosis depresses me, being her mother makes me whole. It is my purpose, and my greatest joy. Raising her is a dream come true. 

You should also know that I’m ok with everything said. To me, it’s just life. Giving myself permission to admit that it sucks, is huge though, and I highly recommend it. 

XO Lyla’s mother