Albert Einstein once said, “If I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician. I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music.”
Within the language of music there is an element called a bridge. The bridge is an interlude that functions not only as a transition within a song, but also serves to bring the listener back to the original chorus. The bridge is solely responsible for capturing the listener’s attention and breaking them free from an established and arguably comfortable pattern.
Music theory suggests that the bridge is best placed after the second chorus. Within the composition of our lives, actions taken and choices made serve as notes in our life song. Logically childhood serves as our song’s first verse, while marriage and starting a family serve as our second verse. For many individuals, and a discussion for another day, how one transitions seamlessly into their final verse is possibly the greatest challenge. It could be argued that what many people are simply lacking is a quality bridge.
One-year prior, the mother sat on her porch on a brisk September morning, drinking her ritual daily cup of coffee. The thing that the mother might love the most about fall…. is the smell in the air. It feels somehow both new and familiar at the same time. Fall air has always reminded the mother of freshly sharpened pencils, warm apple cider, sweet pumpkin spice, and wet drops of dew all colliding together in a magical-aromatic-invigorating elixir.
The mother draws in a deep breath, literally drinking the morning air into her lungs. Exhaling, she closes her eyes and listens to the light breeze rustling through the nearby oak trees. The mother rests her oversized Starbucks destination coffee mug onto her ever-increasing belly. Watching your body undertake metamorphosis over a period of 40 weeks truly is one of nature’s greatest representations of selflessness….serving as a not so subtle reminder of the sacrificial nature of parenthood.
The little girl inside her belly also seems to be invigorated by the fresh air. The mother feels her wiggle and reposition herself so that her face is angled towards the direction of the sun. The space for moving about has certainly begun to grow more restricted in recent weeks, as the little girl begins to make preparations for her entrance into the world.
The mother has always felt the days leading up to the arrival of a new baby carry with them an interesting blend of excitement and uncertainty. Certainly you are eager to meet the new addition to your family and you are very anxious to regain the ability to see your own feet once again. On the other hand, your home presently has an established rhythm. You have a method and melody for how you do things. No matter if it’s your first baby or your fourth, that very clear rhythm is about to experience a metamorphosis of its own, bringing about uncertainty.
Truthfully, the mother found her fourth pregnancy rather predictable. The trimesters were filled with anticipated stages of an unnaturally keen sense of smell, traditional levels of fatigue, a renewed sense of energy, an overly-zealous fervor for nesting and an increasingly limited level of mobility. The mother had heard this familiar melody three times prior but this time…..in rare quiet moments she could hear something new in the wind….a melody of release. This would be her final baby.
After her second pregnancy, the mother and father had not rushed to make any hasty decisions as to the size of their family. The mother secretly had felt a part of their family was still missing. When the blonde was just 8 months old, the mother discovered she was expecting the brunette and quickly realized the answer to her unspoken question had been given…..it appeared more notes would be added to their song.
Due to the unexpected complications revealed following the birth of the brunette, it seemed to the mother that the barrage of specialists seen in those early months had overshadowed all the sweet and magical newborn baby moments. Though the mother had only ever said it in hushed tones, she had felt as if the wonder of their third new baby experience had very much been stolen from them.
When the boy was 4, the blonde was 2, and the brunette was just 8 months old, the mother virtually toppled off a kitchen stool, when she overheard the father say to family members over the Christmas holiday, “I think it might be nice to have another and round out the bunch.” The mother snapped her head up so quickly towards the direction of her parent’s living room that she nearly slid off the oak bar stool. “Wait…what? Have another, what? Another baby?? What are you telling people in there?” the mother asked in a notably panicked tone. The father, with a twinkle in his eye, simply smiled.
Three weeks later as the mother stood staring at the positive pregnancy test she held in her hand, she thought what a wicked sense of humor nature possessed. The mother swore that they had merely spoken this fourth child into existence simply by placing the mere idea of her into the wind.
As the mother took the final sips of her coffee, she mused at the fact that the only thing to truly cause her stress during this final pregnancy was the actual name they would give the baby. Each of the previous children, were given names that had both a strong story associated with their actual meanings as well as offering a symbolic contribution to the family’s melody. Words in general have always carried extra weight for the mother, and a name, the mother believed, was the one word that was branded onto your soul.
While the mother spent weeks, pouring over tedious lists of girl names, the father one day informed her that he already knew the baby’s name. “Oh really?….do tell,” the mother responded skeptically. The mother had once heard a Native American legend which stated, that a child’s true name is whispered into the wind, and it’s up to their parents to simply hear it. Upon hearing the father’s epiphany name, the mother offered the verbal pause, “hmmmm.” She suddenly realized, that in the business of all the baby preparations, the noise in her mind had simply been too loud to hear the name so clearly being whispered to them. It was perfect and in that moment the mother knew this little girl’s unique melody was going to bring unimaginable blessings to their family.
When the baby was born just a few days later, her enchanting song floated into the wind. For the brunette, the addition of the baby represented a welcome shift, offering her the role of the big sister by expanding her dormant leadership skills. For the blonde, the addition of the baby caused a delightful emotional softening, enhancing her dormant compassionate spirit. For the boy, the addition of the baby introduced the presence of a focused challenger, fostering his dormant competitive nature. For the father, the addition of the baby offered an unforeseen blessing through her spirit of perpetual happiness, renewing his dormant spirit of hope. For the mother, the addition of the baby represented a chance to rekindle the delight she felt had been stolen from the brunette’s story, answering her dormant redemptive prayer. The baby was the bridge they had all unknowingly needed.
Happy first birthday to our baby…..and her beautiful song.
The Motherhood in Technicolor Memo: The arrival of a baby’s first birthday brings with it an array of emotions. It certainly is a celebration for the entire family, as they bask in the reality that they have navigated a very challenging season together. Some babies are carefully orchestrated, while others might enter the chorus on the tail end of some rather unexpected notes.
The important thing to remember is that each child’s life plays a part in writing your family’s song. If you are really fortunate, you might find yourself blessed with a child who shakes you from your comfortable pattern by possessing their own unique melody. A child who might give your family the unexpected gift of a well placed bridge. A bridge you most likely had not even realized your song so desperately needed.
Summer Smith is a speaker, writer, and motherhood blogger. She and her family are currently navigating the suburbs of Northern Virginia. As the mother to four young children, Summer maintains her sanity thanks to her sense of humor, copious amounts of coffee, and Amazon Prime. Maya Angelou once said, when reflecting on her childhood, that her mother left an impression like technicolor stars in the midnight sky. Influenced by these words, Summer blogs at her website Motherhood in Technicolor, and can also be found on her Motherhood in Technicolor Facebook page.
One thought on “The Melodious Bridge Revelation”
This was beautiful. Loved the theme, loved the story, loved the ending.