July 23: A Human Came Out of My Vagina
2 days before my birthday, in June 2009, I said to my friend Lyle Molzan "Lyle, my period came, let's get drunk on single malt." This was not the ingestion of Scotch for paltry celebration of my womanhood, rather an attempt to drown my sadness. There I was, holed up in Denver on tour, the heat bearing down on me and to my great disappointment, I was not, as I had hoped, avec enfant.
Why did I want a baby you ask? A valid question that I know I do not have to answer. But since this is my spill-all journal, I can only say that some years ago, living in the slums of Hollywood, I found a chess-playing, oil-painting, blue-eyed human so unlike other humans that frankly it would be criminal not to at least attempt to be the mother of his offspring. Yes, boys and girls, when you find someone with a frighteningly abundant patience and zest for your art, your complicated heart and your general neurotic approach to living, you snatch him up and with him, you try to reproduce.
A month later, in Vimmerby, Sweden, I was jolted out of bed by nausea and fever. There was no expired Swedish meatball to blame, no shrimp sandwich gone awry - it was my future child saying, "Hello mama! You will be saving a great deal of money on birth control and feminine hygiene products, for over a year!"
Pregnancy was a glorious journey. I only puked once and it was from eating a bad cucumber. I performed all my shows and left people guessing, "pregnant or pizza-packed?" I became inspired to write better, faster, more exciting songs, to dig deeper rather than to cheese out and write a kids' album. When I played in Toronto in October, my friend Kevin Fox asked me, with a look of genuine concern behind those famous glasses, "How is it being off the booze?". I could only reference Paul Anka, who in his creepy 70's anthem for procreation, "Having My Baby", crooned, "the seed inside you, I can see it growin'!" Being pregnant was a feeling of being authentically alive. I felt like a Chia Pet, always growing something, always green.
Fast-forward to February 2010. After spending the day with my goddess friend/sister Sass Jordan (recording with her for my upcoming new album) I came home and watched the season premiere of LOST. I went to bed feeling unusual and around 1 a.m., my water broke - 5 weeks earlz. I did not know it yet but I would come to regularly use the adjective "James Earlz Jones" as a way to describe the timing of this arrival. I used hypnotherapy to calm myself in early labour, and therefore was glued to my iPod for 8 hours. Then I got induced which was mildly excruciating, but I didn't know it would be (for some reason I didn't read that chapter in any of my childbirth books). I asked for an epidural but whoever administers it was at Tim Hortons or sleeping in or whatever so I soldiered on. I didn't yell anything mean or hateful in labour. My paediatrician did say - in the middle of a contraction - that she saw me in concert with Randy Bachman a week earlier. I could not believe I was suddenly in a room with a dozen strangers, thinking of Randy Bachman with my pants off. About six hours later, with only the aid of sweet nitrous oxide and one amazing mid-wife, I squeezed out a baby boy. His name is Ronan and well, he's pretty bad-ass.
Everyone thinks their own baby is a wonder, and he surely is. He sings, he naps and gives me a little time to write songs, he squeals. It is fascinating to watch a human grow from birth. Watching anything grow from birth is pretty bitchin'. I am sad when people forget how rare that is, to be afforded that glimpse of time moving through someone or something - whether it's an adopted child, a biological child, a calf, a kitten, a fish, a flower. The only thing I wouldn't want to see grow from birth is a goiter, or maybe a hairy centipede.
Having a baby isn't for everybody, but it was something I wanted. I have the greatest job in the world - being a musician and a songwriter - and it's a great feeling to turn a new corner and know I have never traded my love for making music with something more secure, more sensible, more sane. If I show my kid anything in this life, that's a pretty good one I'd say - to stay true to yourself, and don't give up on the thing you most believe in. I almost want to quote Never Surrender by Corey Hart. Almost.
In many ways, it's because of you reading this and all of you who buy my albums that I have always found the balls to keep going. Labels, managers, opinions, advice, producers, promises, shows, tours, agents, traveling - it can be an exciting trip but it can also all be a very hollowed-out haze. There are a handful of you out there who send messages, post videos, send albums, come to shows all the time and it's a good time for me to say a big, phat, mother-sized THANK YOU! and I'm happy to share my news with you.
Me and baby backstage at Piper Hill music fest, June 26.