“You have not called me to be successful, you have called me to be faithful. Do small things with great love.” – Mother Teresa
I found God, an invisible presence of love, after the death of my first child. I was 16 and it was Christmas. My whole heart and life unraveled like the bows wrapped with a mother’s touch and care of a present, except this was just an empty, void box of nothingness. I lived in the tormenting disbelief that I was never pregnant, in complete denial, a significant aspect of the stages of grief. However, it became the longest winter of my being to lose something that was a part of myself, whom I loved more than the North star shimmering in the night sky, more than the grains of sand on the beach, where my son Jeremiah was first thought of. I have learned that where there was great grief, there will always be great love. I never met my babies, but the after-effects of losing them show me I love them more than life itself. I found hope in the darkness. I found faith, belonging, and family in Heaven–in choosing to believe I am a mother to angels. Today, I looked at the clouds on a Spring day and searched for a sign from my babies. I am reminded of my sons and daughters in the little things. I commented to my friend that I wanted to get a holly plant on my back tattoo in memory of my child, who died in December, and I saw the words “Hollywood” on the television an hour later. I smiled, and thought, “God, I knew that was you! I knew that was from Jeremiah.” I will always remember seeing a mother and baby deer outside my window when I was hospitalized embracing. Every afternoon when I sit outside to spend time with my angels the birds sing, and as a medium, they whisper to me that my children are safe, Emmalia Liberty, a newborn, and Zaiden, 7. On the day after Christmas when I was 16, after an emergency, I took plan B. My life fell to shambles and I began to mourn. I was the most angry and saddest I had ever been. I cried all day every day. I lost my best friends. I cut my beautiful, wavy hair short as if I was in postpartum, then, hope glimmered and wisdom from above was received. When I was 17, I went to an empty Catholic church and flipped to a psalm book on page December 25th. I went to pray at the altar, something motivated me and told me to, and I felt my whole soul and self overcome by a loving light from above, and heard a voice that said, “You got pregnant on Christmas.” I remember exiting the church, filled with inner-light, realizing how every made sense suddenly and that was the day I realized I am a mother. I believed the voice and when I tried to explain it to people, they thought it was schizophrenia, but this was something totally different. It felt as if described in the Bible, of God opening up the Heavens to deliver a message. Or, when the angel Gabriel visits Mary and tells her she is blessed and highly favored, pregnant with Jesus. That was the year I became a Christian, at age 17 years old. I began attending Mass at St. Agnes Church and I can still recall a kind older woman holding my hand. I always liked to sit at the statue of the Virgin Mary and pray loving words of devotion as I beheld her beauty. I read and adored books about Mother Mary and felt close to her Spirit. Still, I had doubts that all those times I thought I was pregnant / miscarrying, even though I had symptoms of pregnancy and spontaneous abortion, like bleeding and cramping, despite the loving voice, I still was torn up about whether or not I was pregnant and my grief ended up with me to trying for a baby again. I remember throwing up for ten days straight, and then bleeding. I never took a test. For years, my life was complete agony because I just wanted to know the complete truth. Then, I met my Earth angel, my therapist, Erin. She is a beautiful soul and person, a mother of three also, who feels at times like my mirror. She looked me in the eyes after I shared with her my story and she told me that she believes me. That she thinks it is best if I believe I did get pregnant because I feel it in my heart and I am only happy–well, happiest, in the midst of battling depression, when I’m talking about my children. As a healthcare worker my intuition tells me my children are watching me from above and my son wants to be a registered nurse and my daughter wants to be a doctor because mommy works with them. I feel in my heart that they are in school in Heaven.