Birth, Memory and Angels

Amy - Belfast, Maine
Entered on March 30, 2009

My three year old son, Clayton, remembers his birth. As we drove past the local hospital his small voice asked from the back seat, “Mamma, that the hospital where I was born?”

“Yes, honey” I answered. “That is where the doctor took you out of a special place in my belly called the uterus.”

“Uterus scary, Mamma” he declared.

“Oh no Clayton, the uterus is not scary,” I said dismissively.

“Oh yes,” he insisted “uterus scary Mamma. I cried and I cried.” I glanced over at my husband who was driving as I asked my son “Then what happened Clayton? What happened after you cried?”

“Then I come out Mamma. Then I born.”

I believe in angels.

I was five months pregnant, alone and resting on the couch when I heard a clear voice say to me, “If you ever see blood, you must rush yourself to the hospital.” I quickly pushed the thought from my mind telling myself that nothing like that was going to happen to me. I was planning to have an uncomplicated, drug-free, natural birth. The birth that we were planning however was not the birth that was planned for us.

At 34 weeks pregnant I woke feeling poorly. Conversations with my husband and my midwife resulted in more questions than answers. I took a moment to sit quietly and whispered “Angels, if I need to go to the hospital, please give me a clear sign.” Instantly I was bleeding and I knew.

I felt the calming presence of angels as we made our way to the hospital and through the premature emergency delivery of my son due to a placental abruption. I prayed that they follow my son as he was taken to a different hospital to be cared for while I recovered from blood loss and surgery.

As he recovered in the neonatal intensive care unit I sang angels down around him and felt the deep peace of the presence of God. Becoming a mother taught me the power of surrender. Motherhood was the first thing I knew I could not do without God.

Every day I honor the divine hours of motherhood as I take care of my beautiful boy. Each day I pray and each day I am buoyed up on the wings of angels.

A few days ago I was going through a deck of angel cards. My son paused to watch. As I was going through the cards he stopped me, exclaiming “Look, Mamma! That me!” It was a beautiful picture of four loving angels watching over a sleeping baby. “That is beautiful, Clayton. When was that you?” I asked. “When I in the hospital Mamma. When I born.”

My son remembers his birth. He remembers being scared and he remembers being saved. He remembers being surrounded by angels and so do I.

I believe in angels. I believe that they guard us and that they guide us, and I could not be more grateful.