Mike and I don’t exchange presents on Christmas or Valentine’s Day or our anniversary. We save presents solely for birthdays, and we try to make them really special. Sometime during the past nine months, I decided that I should also get a present on Atticus’s birthday. Not just this year, but every year. For doing such a good job. We don’t have to celebrate Mother’s Day. I just need all of that blood being drawn and the swelling and the sleeplessness and the contractions (dear lord, the contractions) to be remembered one way or another.
Mike was, obviously, in no position to argue with me. I should have remembered, though, that he is incredibly skilled at the art of present-giving. After our New Year’s Eve false labor that turned out to be real labor extravaganza that turned into a New Year’s Day delivery, we were finally able to settle into our room at some point in the afternoon. And then Mike told me that he had a present for me and Atticus, that this year we would have to share. And he played me this song.
(I will have to give him a very good birthday present this year. I am not as skilled in this area as he is.)
Mike and I both love Eef Barzelay, and Eef has a fun feature on his website where you can commission him to write a song. Mike did that, asking for a theme song for Atticus, and the materials he gave Eef to work with were the letters that I wrote in November. I like to think that this means that Eef and I collaborated on the song. Even though we didn’t, really. Don’t argue with me or I will tell you more about the contractions.
Here are the lyrics to the song. I love how the themes that I worked on all month are woven through. Lucky boy, he has a theme song already.
Song for Atticus
Attaboy, Atticus, don’t be afraid
The future is yours to be beautifully made
And the party’s not done
Until you come through the door
How I ache at the thought
Of all that’s in store
Attaboy, Atticus, rise up and stand
Take a sweet breath and clap your soft hands
There is more to this life
Than what we perceive
You see, God shines through our eyes
If we only believe
Oh, Atticus, Atticus, it pains me to say
That to never know suffering,
Well, there’s really no way
But there is a love that is infinite, deep
From which you came forth
Oh so tender and sweet
And are we awake
If God is asleep
And this life is the dream
That he’s having right now?
But the stuff that we are
Was once inside a star
That exploded so bright
And so turned on the light