Birth, Memory and Angels

Amy - Belfast, Maine
Entered on March 30, 2009
Age Group: 30 - 50

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.