Singing Them for Comfort

I'm particularly fond of her wee crossed feet.

Henrietta is teething. There have been indications of teething for months, but now we're into some pretty fussy territory. I'm not sure that what we did Sunday night could be categorized as sleeping, and last night wasn't much better. She's quicker to cry in general, and by afternoon she's pretty much spent, which she expresses by screaming. I realize we're lucky that this is fairly unusual behavior.

Tonight as I was trying to get her sleep, I sang to her, and I realized how grateful I am to have a repertoire of songs from my Mormon upbringing. I make up a lot of songs during the day, inserting her name here and there, rhyming sweet with feet, that sort of thing. (Sam has a killer song about her comfort rabbit, Elroy. I need to get him to record it for me.) But when she's upset, when she needs the big guns, I go for the hymns. I often sing her "Come, Come, Ye Saints" (which Sam also requests when upset). I sing her "How Firm a Foundation" and "Nearer, My God, to Thee" and "I Am a Child of God" and "A Child's Prayer" and "For the Beauty of the Earth" and "Lead, Kindly Light" and "Be Still, My Soul."

Tonight as I sang, she looked up at me in the dark, finally finally calm, after a little help from Children's Ibuprofen. And she just watched me, eyes wide in the dark as I sang and sang, and then hummed and hummed, and rocked her, and patted her backside, and wondered what on earth I would do without those songs in my head. They've comforted me and been a fixture of my faith for as long as I can remember, so it's meaningful to sing them to her. Sometimes I worry what I'll be able to pass onto her, faith-wise, but when I'm singing those songs, I feel pleased that I'm beginning in a place that feels absolutely authentic to me. At least she'll have some vague recollection of those tunes and words, and a legacy of singing them for comfort.