When I was pregnant with my own daughter, I stumbled across Sylvia Long’s remake of “Hush Little Baby.”  I instantly fell in love.

Instead of promising material goods, the mother in Sylvia’s version comforts her child with observations of nature and time spent together.

Sylvia’s version resonated with me in a big way.  And as it turned out, lullabies would become very important to our family.  I sang-read Sylvia’s Hush Little Baby nearly every evening to my daughter.  The board book quickly became worn; it is still an integral part of our regular bedtime rotation.

Inspired by Sylvia’s warmer and more “grounded” version of maternal love, I began to wonder:

Could I do the same for Rockabye Baby?

After all, I loved the melody, but I just could not bring myself to sing to my newborn about falling from a tree.  Especially after we realized she was sick with a mysterious and life-threatening condition.

The absolute last thing I was gonna sing to her about was gonna be about a tree collapsing underneath her.

Many new moms know a thing or two about exhaustion and insomnia.

With Hush Little Baby in mind as an influence, I began crafting lyrics for a nature-based, more supportive, and more comforting version of Rockabye Baby. I wanted something that would let my daughter know that she needn’t be afraid.  Something to let her know that she had a place in this world, that we are all part of a larger mystery, and that she would always be held in love.

In our family, Sylvia’s Hush Little Baby is a true lullaby classic.  Her book lives by our bedside, sharing primary status with other night-time gems:  Llama Llama Red Pajama, Goodnight Moon, Where do I Sleep?, and Jerry Pickney’s Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

The truth is, my daughter probably thinks that Sylvia’s version is the original version of Hush Little Baby.  (!)

Someday, of course, I’ll share the original version with her.

I have a feeling she’ll say, “Huh.  I like the one you sang to me better.”

And that’s more than alright with me.