"Patience and Peace are the Mother and of Love." (Buddhist saying.)
I am alone and too young to cope with all this dying and giving birth. In eight months I have lost my Gran and had a screaming baby that will not shut up. From the moment I bought him home from hospital, this bundle of 'joy' has not stopped screaming. Luke was big at nine pounds ten ounces, so I was told by every midwife, nurse and Doctor. It was a long, difficult birth which I endured alone, with no-one to help or encourage me.
The only people I had seen since being in the hospital were the midwife, who checked me over, and the health visitor, Ruth, who checked Luke over. I felt like I was under a microscope of judgement; are you doing this, are you doing that? Ruth, who was a year older than me at twenty-four, went into reams of advice on how it was best to handle this lump of flesh I had produced. I'm afraid I switched off.
Why wasn't he crying when she was holding him? Chuckling and gurgling. He'd never done that before. It didn't last long, as soon as she had gone he began his normal screeching, like a strangled cat. It grated on my nerves like finger nails down a blackboard. I picked him up and tried to feed him the 'breast' way for the umpteenth time that day, but it wasn't enough. He cried for more. I changed him, winded him and did everything I had read in the 'Dummies guide to having a baby' book. I wish my Gran was here. She would know what to do. I rocked him from side to side. It had no effect, the little sod was still crying. "GRAN! Help me please!" I screamed out, but deep inside I knew my plea was in vain.
Why didn't he cry when she was holding him? Luke was chuckling and gurgling, he'd never done that for me so what was wrong with me? It didn't last long either because as soon as she had gone he began his normal screeching, it was just like a strangled cat. It grated on my nerves like finger nails down a blackboard. I picked him up and tried to feed him the 'breast' way for the umpteenth time that day, but it was never enough. He cried for more, I changed him, winded him and did everything I had read in the 'Dummies guide to having a baby' book. Oh how I wish my Gran were here, she would know what to do. I rocked him from side to side as I usually did but it had no effect, the little sod was still crying and I hadn't a clue why.
"GRAN! Help me please!" I screamed out, but deep inside I knew my plea was in vain. You may think that a new Mum would look to her own Mum for help and advice but chance would have been a fine thing. I never knew my Mum as she died when I was two, it was suicide. Gran had told me all about it when I was old enough to ask as it was a lesson she wanted me to learn, life was unfair and she wasn't wrong.
My name is Holly, I am twenty-three and my mother was Dianne, she was a career girl, as I intended to be. She went to university, passed with a first in Law and then into a firm of solicitors, she never looked back. My Gran was so proud of her, and loved her even after what she did to herself. It showed in her voice when she used to tell me these stories about my dead mother.
Apparently it all came to a grinding halt when my Mum found out she was six months pregnant with me. It devastated her and tore her perfect world apart, all for a one night stand. My Mum couldn't cope, even with her Mum's help; she struggled to keep her job, and then eventually lost it. She evidently thought she was not made out for motherhood as she took her own life by overdosing on pills.
It was my poor old Gran that found us. My so-called mother dead on her bed, and me abandoned, soiled and starving hungry, crawling around in all the mess I had made in my cot. Okay, so no-one believed she intended to take her life, the coroner had put her death as misadventure, making out it was just one big horrible mistake - or perhaps I should I say, I was the mistake and just like her and I am not coping with my own big 'Luke' shaped mistake.
Initially, I was put into care until my Gran was awarded custody and she did her best to fill the cavernous hole in my life with her love and absolute devotion. I think it helped her to cope with her grief as well. Luckily I remember very little of these times. My Granddad had passed away before I was born, so I never had the luxury of a father figure. Even so I had a wonderful childhood and flourished at school and college. I wanted to be a fashion designer as I loved making and wearing my home-made original clothes. I had the chance to go to university to do just that and decided to go to one nearer to home and commute. I wanted to look after my Gran, who was getting frail at seventy-five, going a little way to repay her for all the time she had cared for me. I had only just finished university, having taken my final exams, when my Gran suddenly passed away from a massive stroke. Talk about shock! At the age of twenty-one I had to cope with funeral arrangements whilst devastated with grief and the horrible feeling of abandonment all over again.
Alone, I am so alone and so tired. Then the worst happened; I started being sick - all day. I put it down to being stressed, or maybe a bug, or so I hoped. I went to the doctors and my deepest fear was confirmed - I was pregnant; fourteen weeks pregnant and history was cruelly repeating itself.
The 'father' high tailed it as soon as I told him. It was no surprise as he wasn't up too much anyway, just a fling; a one night stand when drunk, celebrating after my exams and now I am paying for it; for the rest of my life! It was a small blessing that Gran wasn't here to witness my blunder, Mum's mistake repeated by me, insanely, stupidly, it left me cold and so very mixed up. What should I do? Should I have it? Should I give it up? It was a decision I battled daily, never getting anywhere and then when I couldn't decide; fate decided for me, it was too late.
I am alone, with this big hungry baby hanging off my body - sucking the life force out of me, I was drained; I had no love for this infant. Why was that? I wanted to run away, to leave him somewhere; for someone better than me, but something always stopped me so I carried on doing my duties as the mother I never had and could never be.
" Grandma! Help me, please help me...!" I sobbed into the night sky. I was having a particularly bad time with Luke as he had decided that projectile vomiting was a good sport, and as soon as I had one feed down him, changed him, winded him - up it would come again, over him, over me, over everything. "Ahhhhh!" I screamed. This was the fifth time today. "You little git!" I thought.
I'd had it. Somewhere, something inside me broke and I tossed my sixteen day old baby onto the settee. He rolled over, spreading the vomit all over the place and screaming at the top of his lungs. With no thought to what I had just done, I ran out of the room. "Parasite!" I heard myself shout. Oh how I needed to sleep. With this, I flung myself onto the cold kitchen floor, it was two in the morning and I couldn't stand another minute of my life.
"Take him for a walk." a familiar voice whispered in my ear. "A walk? At this time?" I thought. "Why not?" The voice replied. I slipped into automatic pilot, not really thinking or understanding and returned to my screaming infant, who luckily, was still on the settee, wriggling around in his vomit. I cleaned both of us up, not noticing that Luke had stopped crying. I put him into his pram - chucking a blanket in for good measure. I grabbed my keys and the changing bag and we set out on this loony escapade. "Go to St Peters." the familiar voice insisted, I didn't think hearing voices was in the slightest bit strange, I thought it was the sound of my sanity breaking in two.
It was lovely outside, fresh, dark, but not totally pitch black; there was a full moon which hung in the sky, welcoming me into its embrace. It was quiet, and it never occurred to me that Luke was part of this 'quiet' scene as I was enjoying the moment for myself. I strolled casually to the church and by the time I got there, Luke was fast asleep. "Sods Law!" I said to myself. "I'm away from my bed so the little git goes to sleep!" The moon lit up the church and I noticed its big wooden doors were wide open. "Strange?" I thought. "There can't be a service at this time of night?" "Come in my dear." Here we go again, follow the insane persons voice, I still couldn't place it.
Inside the church was dark, except for the Altar which was lit up by a myriad of twinkling candles. There was an outline of an elderly woman, re-arranging the flowers. I could see her taking out the dead ones, and replacing them with new, just like my Gran used to do, in this very church! The realisation hit me like a bucket of cold water being tipped over my head, its icy fingers trickling down my face and body, I began to shiver and shake. NO! It couldn't be. "Gran?" my voice shaking, I pushed the pram nearer so I could see her familiar shape, her favourite Sunday hat perched on her immaculate white hair and I could smell the heavy scent of her favourite perfume. "Gran!" "Hello, sweetheart." (Her usual greeting.) "No need to be afraid my love, after all, I am only answering your call." she said with her younger looking face, not tired or as lined as when I saw her last. No way was I afraid, there was too much I wanted to say and anyway I was obviously going mad and therefore had an excuse for this stupid, silly, behaviour. It was a dream, wasn't it? I'm still fast asleep on the kitchen floor really - but it was so vivid, so colourful, it felt real, it smelt real, the scent of Grans perfume and my hearing was perfect - but I did not believe what my senses were telling me.
I ran into her open arms. "Gran, it can't be? How?" I spluttered through the tears pouring down my face. "The how and why, my dear, is up to them above; I am here because you needed me. I didn't want you to make the same mistake as your Mother did." Gran explained. "Mum? Is she here too?" I glanced round hopefully. "No, my dear, you called for Me." she said gently. " Your Mum is in spirit, whole and happy again, and fully aware of what she did and the consequences of her actions. It is how it was meant to be, and not for us to question why, that's why it is called faith. Now, let's have a look at the cause of all this trouble, where's my great-grandson?"
I lifted Luke out of his pram, who was now wide awake and placed him gently into the open arms of my Grans 'ghost'. I had never seen him so responsive, so aware; and he was smiling - really smiling. Somehow he 'knew' my Gran and I could see the love pouring from both of them, especially him, he was practically glowing. It must be the candle light playing tricks on me, I told myself. It was just the special effects man gone wild in this strange dream. "Come and sit with us." Gran said, so I let myself be pulled into the glorious warm light that emanated round us. It was surreal but I felt safe and relaxed, and more importantly, I felt loved and was definitely NOT alone.
Gran and I talked in the peaceful setting of the church and she gave me all the knowledge of motherhood I would ever need. I soaked up every precious word. It was like time had stood still, with just the three of us, wrapped in a bubble of peace and love - it was magical. I never wanted this moment; this beautiful dream to end.
Dawn's colourful light inevitably filtered through the open church doors and played with the dying flames of the candles surrounding the Altar. "Time to go, my dear" Gran said sadly." But please don't worry, I will always be with you " She paused, with a serious look on her face I knew so well. "I have decided to be Luke's guardian Angel and I will try to guide him on his spiritual path, to help him when he is undecided or worried, I am sure he will grow into a fine young man." she added, " and as for you, your Mum and I are always at your side watching you, listening to you, and coming to you through your dreams. (I knew I was dreaming!) We are never more than a prayer away." It gave me extra comfort and confidence knowing Gran and Mum would be looking after us, and for the very first time I could think of my Mum with more understanding and forgiveness. "Thank you Gran." I replied, kissing her softly on the cheek. "I had nearly given up but now I know we have a future, my son and I."
Luke was no longer an 'it.' For the first time in the sixteen days since his birth, I looked at him through the eyes of a Mother. My heart was open and filled with unconditional love like I had never known before. It actually hurt. Even my Gran's love for me, had more meaning. I understood now, how she must have felt and what my own mother had missed. Luke was lying quietly in my arms, our eyes met in this love and then 'BANG!' I understood - I was enlightened. I knew why we are all here, the reason for life. It had all become so clear to me. In my excitement I glanced up to tell Gran about my epiphany, but she had gone. (Had it really happened?) I was disappointed but no longer afraid, I knew now - I wasn't alone. I had been given proof that I would take through my life, instead of taking my life, until the very end and even then I knew they would be there waiting for me.
What a night this had been, so many revelations! I was fully awake and alert now and I realised that this massive miracle had saved my life and the life of my son. It definitely hadn't been a dream. It was an intervention from the highest power. I put my serene, happy, cooing baby back in his pram, ready to take on the world with abundant hope and new faith in the fantastic future that awaited us.
Oh yes, the reason for life? I am so sorry; you will have to discover that for yourself, on your own journey to enlightenment.
In Love and Light,
Holly, the proud mother of her son, Luke.
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