I am a huge John Mayer fan.
Yep, he looks funny when he sings. But I love his music. A lot.
The morning after Jake was born, I was about to go see him in the NICU (see “In the Beginning” for Jake’s full birth story) when the Resident Geneticist came in to announce, completely unbeknownst to me, that they were testing my precious first-born son for Trisomy 21.
As soon as she left, I lost every thread of composure. I called my husband, a sobbing mess, and then hung up and waited for him to get to the hospital. Throughout the rest of that day and the few days afterwards, I could not get this John Mayer song out of my head. The chorus goes like this:
Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can’t take the speed it’s moving in
I know I can’t
But honestly, won’t someone stop this train
All I kept thinking to myself during those first few days of grief was how much I wanted to stop the train. How much I desired to go back, to do it again with a different outcome. How desperately I wanted to start over, to return to the time before the cloud of grief enveloped me.
It’s funny, because there are many days now, almost a year and a half later, that I still think about that song. Only now, the context has changed. I want to stop the train and get off, but not for the same reasons. Now it’s because I feel as though life is moving at breakneck speed. Now it’s because I watch home videos of Jake when he was a tiny baby, and I am moved by how far we have come, and how fast the time has gone. Now I just want life to slow down so that I can savor every second that I have with Jake (and Cole of course!).
Perspective is everything.