Home » Prematurity » Wake me up…

Wake me up…

I don’t know about you, but music has always played a large role in my life. There’s a soundtrack that seems to play through my days. The first notes of almost any song will bring back a memory, a feeling, a thought, an emotion.  Music takes me back,  through good and bad. Music from the 80’s makes me revisit high school – football games, the bus to and from basketball games, dances, crushes, heartbreak, singing at the top of our lungs as we drove to and from lunch, waiting up til midnight for premiers of music videos, summer camp, days by the pool, movies, Homecoming, wishes and dreams of a teenage girl. Songs of the early 90’s mean college and early career, trips to see Grandma, road trips to see the boyfriend, bash sessions with my brother and our unhappily single friends, baseball games, nights out after work. Later in the decade, music would connect me to the meeting of my husband, the passing of my grandmother, my wedding day, the hopes and dreams of a young woman.

When Big Man was born, I spent three months driving back and forth to his NICU over 45 minutes away, every single day. Now I’m not one to ever be in the car without music playing. A Mark Schultz CD played over and over as I prayed his lyrics for my son. A song by Creed brought me to my knees every time. Then in 2005, when Big Man was well out of the woods from his prematurity, but I continued to struggle with the guilt, the need to grieve his birth, and would go into a depression every September, came the song Wake Me Up When September Ends (Green Day), and the words seem to speak to me, of me. I can’t hear that song without thinking of that month, when innocence was lost, when grief, fear, and pain took hold. It said what I felt towards the end of August every year, dreading the memories I would wish to sleep through the month of September.

“Wake Me Up When September Ends”

Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends

Like my father’s come to pass
Seven years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends

Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are

As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends

Ring out the bells again
Like we did when spring began
Wake me up when September ends

Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are

As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends

Like my father’s come to pass
Twenty years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends
Wake me up when September ends
Wake me up when September ends

I watched the video when it released. It had nothing to do with what I’d been through, and yet those words haunted me. I’ll never forget what I lost – the innocence of a pregnancy untouched by prematurity. Memories fade, time passes, healing happens, wounds scar over. But you never forget what was before, what happened, and how it changed you. Each year, I feel September coming. Even knowing our son is here, healthy, happy, walking around, I know what was, what could have very easily been. I remember being terrified, holding my breath every day I was in the hospital, praying with all my might. I remember the days sitting by his isolette, watching, waiting, hoping, praying, crying.  Even a perfectly amazing fourteen year old doesn’t take any of that away.
Why am I writing about this now? On the way home from taking Big Man to golf camp this morning, the sun was shining down on a perfectly beautiful morning. And then I heard the first notes of this song, and it all came flooding back. I wished, for a few minutes, music didn’t play any part in my life.

3 thoughts on “Wake me up…

  1. This was not easy to read. But so gratifying to read. I hope that makes sense. I’m glad your boy is doing so well. And I cannot imagine what that time was for you or what being taken to that time by music does to you. A beautiful, if difficult, written memory.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s