What makes music so magical is how a song can be stitched to a person, place, or event. From then on, that song’s melodies and lyrics spark memories and feelings, intertwining you right back in that initial place and phase, like the perfect cross stitch.
For me, ‘Float’ by Harbour brings me back to baby Navy – her NICU and surgery days with all the uncertainty and fear that would swirl outside the headphones. Inside, however, the song provided peace and hope, gifts cherished in troubled times.
Understated, overwhelming Life is always best when you're around You make everything I once thought great seem so insignificant now
Right before 2020 officially became, Heather and I found out we were going to have complications within our pregnancy. The expected outcomes were all over the place – no face, no hands, a limited lifespan – but then 2020 happened, Navy was born Jan. 17, we lived in unknown fear for a weekend, and then we settled into our new normal.
The normal was still hard, don’t get me wrong. To make a long story somewhat short, Navy was born a VACTERL baby, where each letter corresponds to an anomaly. Her big hurdle was the E, for esophagus, requiring three surgeries and struggles we still live with today. Her other was the L, for limb, as she was born without a thumb on her right hand and a dysfunctional thumb on her left. While the world dealt with COVID-19 obstacles, we had these waves added upon making treading water on certain days a major victory.
Everything I want to tell you, I don't think I have the words right now But everything that makes me feel alive, I swear you make me feel, somehow
There were nights where I was home alone – Kai with a grandma, Heather in Salt Lake with Navy, and me and Maggie (dog) cuddled on the bed. There were nights where I was the one alone in Salt Lake. There were hours driving alone, to and fro Salt Lake to home or to work or to doctor appointments. With hands on the wheels, I’m not one to just sit and think. I want to listen to podcasts as the white lines blaze by, but I rarely do. Thinking time? No thanks. Chit chat? Ha – one of the last things I want to do while headlights are on is to talk on the phone. Instead, it’s music. As mile markers march my way, I’m plugged into Spotify with tunes going.
To escape from reality during this time, I queued up a Post Malone playlist, letting the lyrics and beats provide energy and moods without intentionally finding meaning in the songs. It would be loud, it would be bumping, and it would be a distraction. Post Malone gave me this, while giving me a dream, too. One day, when Kai and Navy are older with their own taste in songs, we will go for a drive with the windows down, music up and let our favorite songs linger in and out of the car doors. Afterwards, we’ll ‘Post’ it on sticky notes with the memories, feelings, or story that song snuck in and shove the sticky notes in the dashboard console.
I stumble over words I haven't said in years, it's so different with you Forever I'll beg this feeling to stay, and dear I hope that you do too ‘cause when I lay awake at night the thought of you brings peace of mind And I can't lie, despite my trials, I've lacked this peace for all my life
Yet, that loud diversion could only last so long on those drives until the tugs came back reminding me of what Heather might need, what Kai might need, or what the current state of our baby girl’s needs were. On the hardest of days and lowest of lows (Code Blues, ten doctors gathered around Navy not breathing, one doing CPR on her tiny compressed chest), the tugs could be heavy, especially when I felt so alone. Or knew Heather was alone. Or thought of Navy on a plastic tray crib with wires connected to her pale, sedated body – at times, the definition of alone. In those times, I needed more than an eardrum distraction, which is where ‘Float’ came along.
Honey, it's okay, you're afraid of falling You don't have to say it out loud But you know Take another step off the edge, we're floating We don't have to ever look down
Harbour was a new discovered band, but an instant favorite. They reminded me of the pop-punk bands I moshed to in high school with their catchy beats and singable lyrics. At first, I thought “Get You High” could be Navy’s song as it talked about falling in love and that “you’re the closest thing to Heaven dear to me, the Earth has ever shown” and never letting her go, words that still ring true. It was the first single I had gotten into and I wanted it to have sentimental value, but I had connected it to Navy before her big hurdles began. So as Navy’s NICU days went from single digits to teens, the bop was too pop and upbeat for the circumstance. Plus, this music video (well worth the cringe).
It was also from their first album – Heatwave – published in 2017. The most recent, Thoughts on Letting Go from 2019, was an A++ with a tracklist that held high energy with each and every song that it was a sin to skip. I probably listened to this CD (I’m basically from the 90s, complete sets of music are called CDs) every day as Navy’s NICU days continued to climb into the 50s and 60s and 70s (she was 103 total, for the record). For the first ⅔ of the lineup, the mood is light and the vibe is uplifting. Starting with ‘Float,’ and for those final four songs, life would slow down to create a thoughtful longing, but for what was up to the listener.
With “Float,” the calming tone gave way to lyrics that connected the dots to what Navy was to me. Think about it: when you are with your loved ones, life is at its peak (line 2). Things that I love – the Utah Jazz winning playoffs, being with my high school students, the sight on top mountains – are insignificant when compared to a new baby, a fragile baby, a sweet baby, your most precious baby (line 3). But to detail her – or those times, or those feelings, or those trials, or whatever good things happen in the future – basically to express love, or define love, or to communicate love? That is indescribable (line 4). The words are hard to say, never do it justice, but are there somehow, in a place – the soul, the heart – as eyes lock, smiles lift, hands are held, prayers are said (line 6-7). And at night, even when I’m alone or things are scary – I could think of Navy and our future and it would bring in peace, a peace that only she (or Kai, or Heather) could possibly bring (line 8). A peace that is also indescribable, but if you know, you know. You know?
And then the chorus: which were the words for what I wanted to be for my family, for my Navy Rose. Times are, and will be, hard, but it’s OK to be afraid of falling, or failing, or setbacks, or lows. If those things happen, that’s OK, truly, but as the chorus teaches, “We don’t ever have to look down” or stay in that fall, or fail, or setback, or low. As the narrative switches from singular you to a plural we, I wanted Navy to know that I got her. I’m here for her. For now and this low, but in the next, and the next, and the next, too. Together, we can float through them together. Not endure or struggle together, but the verb is float as if it will be slight, subtle, easy even. Because we’re in it together.
Feels good, it's a heavy copacetic God knows that I'm never gonna let it go, 'cause baby, I'm not blind. A love like this is hard to find Feels good, it's a heavy copacetic God knows that I'm never gonna let it slip, 'cause baby I'm not blind A love like this, a love like…
As the song ends with a third verse and one more chorus, I was always reminded that the love for my Navy is rare, “hard to find,” which would always give me the umph to get up and go head first in another day of unknowns or scares because “I’m never gonna let it slip.” The song was a gentle reminder to be the person who will float with her and for her, something I’m honored to do. While defeated or tired or alone (my options to interpret the word falling in this song), I love the lesson that floating is still possible.
And worth it.
As I hear the words and feel the notes today, I can’t help but be brought back to the time when a simple love song, by five guys from Cincinnati, Ohio, brought a connection to my daughter, hope for our future, and an inspiration to be more. Navy is home, happy, and thriving as a beautiful, capable, talented, wild, adventurous little toddler, making my lyrical analysis go from a theoretical hypothesis to proven true as we were afraid of falling in that tough time, floated our way through it, and don’t ever have to look down in the next stages since we will always have each other and never let go.
Honey, it's okay, you're afraid of falling You don't have to say it out loud But you know Take another step off the edge, we're floating We don't have to ever look down
Steve Godfrey Writes 