Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Whispers from My Womb
I am a blessed woman. Despite all my health issues, my body continues to journey forward (knock on proverbial wood.) I most certainly have angels around me. My son Gabriel is definitely one of them. Come February, I am often saddened by the memory of his passing on the 28th during my sixth month of pregnancy twelve years ago. Actually, it's not quite sadness, but rather a longing for this entity that redefined me from the inside out. Each cell of my body came alive when he moved in, and they all cried when he left.
Mourning truly resides at every level of life, every layer. Every year is different, but I surely didn't anticipate it at 11pm Friday night when our song crept into my mind almost like a fog permeating the air. I could almost feel a mist upon my skin, vibrating to the tune that belonged to us. It was bizarre, quite early, and haunting. There are days I want to call the police to report a missing person, but of course that's impossible. SO many impossibilities at an age of such discoveries and advancements. So I am left to search on my own. It's actually the opposite of searching, it's looking inward, meditating back to those six months when I WAS a "MAMA".
"He was just reaching out to you, Mama," my mom replied when I told her of my late-night experience. There was that word. The word I always yearned to hear but never had. "Mama" is one of the most powerful words in all of language. It means so many things, and once called, it's as though a crown has been placed on your head. My crown only exists in theory. While I am not an outward mama, my spirit is a mama every moment of the day.
I can feel him just below the level of the living. Sort of like some of the roots of trees that aren't too far below the surface. Even if the tree dies, those roots still exist, pleading with the Universe that someone, somewhere will remember them. If you own the land where the tree has died, you might hope those roots will grow into another tree. I can't count how often I have wished that the tiny roots left behind would grow into another miracle, but it wasn't to be. There was no future for the roots of my tree.
The day I lost him, before I even knew he was gone, our song came on the radio on my way to work. As I always did when I heard it, I sang out loud to my miracle. It was one of our special moments, although, in retrospect, EVERY moment was special. I remember the black velvet dress, the pearls, the heels all decorating the bump underneath it all. I looked like a beautiful pregnant lady the day I lost him. I looked back, searching time and sensations for the moment I felt his heartbeat stop, but there wasn't one. He just died. It wasn't my fault, but I still had a broken heart.
During my pregnancy, I would sit in our rocking chair and imagine holding my child in my arms. Rocking his tears and fears away. It's only been in the last few years that the image has changed. Rather than me rocking him, it's as though he is rocking me. What person survives four stays in the ICU over just five years? Who doesn't die once sepsis has invaded her entire abdomen? There are miracles that have happened in my life that I can't explain, and I've had spiritual experiences that defy our Earthly reality. Somehow, losing my son has brought some of the most glorious miracles to my life. I can be sad, but I will never regret our beloved relationship.
What a divine cycle I've been on with my son's spirit, and that of his twin who passed early in my pregnancy. As humans do, we nurture our kids and when we grow old, it is they who care for us. On the contrary, my son's infant spirit has nurtured me through the heartbreak and pain of his loss, and the grief and pain of my physical disease. When it comes my time to die, certainly not a moment I'm running to, but not one I fear just the same, I'll truly have the chance to be the kind of mom I wished I could have been in the first place.
Even though I think of him every day, when I hear our song, I hear him calling me. We embrace on a floor like a celestial sea. He crawls back in his home in my womb, I hold my belly and we dance. And in those exquisite moments, I remember that I AM Mama. Such severe pain that has brought out of me such phenomenal love, how can I ever complain? He'll always remain, never far from my heart. My soul redefined by something only the heaven's could provide. In a language only a mother could translate, he calls me, "Mama, dance with me." And I shall always oblige.