Monday, December 10, 2012

The Night My Baby Spoke to Me

We finally walked into our own home for the first time since I entered the hospital in late April.  It was now May 10th.  I went straight for the nursery.  There it was.  Our beautiful nursery so clean and pure in its blue, pink and white.  I looked at the empty crib.  I turned on the mobile to hear the music that broke the silence.  We cried.  My arms never felt so empty.  My body's mothering senses had kicked in full speed ahead and I had no baby to hold and mother.  James had suggested that we might want to take down the nursery.  I panicked.  Never!  My baby had been taken away, but the nursery would remain until ......well until.  Nobody better slip in and touch a thing!  I went out on our patio to lie on a lounge chair.  I watched as James brought out some of the azaleas friends had sent us.  We arranged and then re-arranged where they should be planted.  My neighbor, Jenny brought her sweet daughter whom James and I adored.  She hugged us and asked where my baby was.  How do you explain this to a three year old when you don't even understand yourself?  As simply as possible.  They left.  We were glad they came over.
Later that night, after we were in bed, it started raining for the first time since baby James' funeral.  Were the tents still up to keep him dry?  Would he be chilly?  I began to get frantic with worry!  I woke up James.  He reminded me the baby was fine.  I still worried and went back to the task of trying to sleep.  All of a sudden in the night I awoke with a startle.  I heard a sweet angelic voice saying the word mother.  I sat up in bed.  There at the foot of our bed was my baby son floating above the bed.  He even had on the blue outfit with the white kite on it that he was buried in!  I clearly remember his saying with kindness but also authority, "Mother, do not not worry about me!  Don't you know that I am with my Father in Heaven?"  He disappeared.  That message was for me.  I was not to worry.  My son was safe with God.  He was just fine.  It was me that was a wreck full of grief.  I never did worry over my baby's well-being again.  It was my grief I had to contend with now.

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