Astrid’s altar

Playboy Mommy

Losing Astrid was the hardest day of my life; harder than losing my fiance, harder than losing my cousin, because this time it was my body that couldn’t handle it. This time, I thought, “Am I so unfit that you don’t want me as your mother?”

I woke up to blood trickling down my leg and all over my sheets. It wasn’t time for my period but because of my travel schedule and stress I thought that maybe my cycle was messed up. I won’t go into specifics, it was painful, it was gross, and it was terrifying. Imagine feeling like a hand is inside of you tearing away at your insides. That’s what it felt like. I told my housemate, “something isn’t right.” She convinced me to take it easy for the day and I lay on the couch clutching my stomach. The next day I went to the Doctors. On my way there “Playboy Mommy” popped up on my ipod. I knew. They had me take a pregnancy test and proceeded to check me out. The test came back positive as the hormones stay in you for the next few weeks. I was starting to dialate, my body was in the first stages of preparing itself for pregnancy. They gave me a sonogram and checked to make sure there was nothing left inside of me. I had miscarried fully. She said I was 6 weeks along. Which is actually 4 weeks. They take the first two weeks before you get pregnant when the egg is forming. I still don’t understand why they add on the extra two weeks but they do. To me it will always be a month because that’s the day she was conceived. My Doctor was extremely nice. She always calls me little “Little beautiful one” and she stroked the side of my head as I cried. She had done me a huge favor by letting me in that day. She’s always booked but because I was so distraught she switched her schedule a bit to fit me in.

I went home and listened to “1,000 oceans.”

Later in the day I picked up some candles at the store. This was the first contact with her energy. Walking into the store, I immediately was drawn to a pair of pink barrettes. I had a feeling it was a girl but this confirmed it. I kept finding sweet pink candles and finally a small little faerie/angel figurine. I took them home and set them up. The energy was amazing. I have never felt something so pure in my entire life. She was love in it’s purest form. She had never seen hate, jealousy or violence. She was the purest of the pure. I immediately fell in love and I knew what her name would be. Astrid, it just came to me, like she had named herself and I was merely there to retrieve the name and say it out loud.

After a month I finally told her father. I hadn’t spoken to him in two months. I couldn’t keep the information from him. It wouldn’t be right and it wouldn’t be fair. He said he was sorry. I think that’s all someone can say in those circumstances. I was shaking so hard I couldn’t say what I needed to say. I broke down afterward and curled up on the couch with my cat. My roommate smiled at me sympathetically while I tried to drown everything out in the television. Later in the evening I told my parents. They had noticed I was acting strange, withdrawn and they were starting to ask questions about my mental state.

My mum asked me two questions:
“Are you upset because you were happy that you were pregnant?” and “Did you want to keep her?”

Here are the answers:

1. I am upset that I didn’t know and by the time I found out, I had miscarried. I had no chance to really think about it because by the time I actually knew for real, she was gone.

2. I would have kept her. I wouldn’t of been able to have an abortion and I wouldn’t have kept her for selfish reasons like to get him back or have the connection to him. That is not my way. I would have kept her because she was mine. It is as simple as that.

I know I’m still grieving because I still clutch my stomach at night. I still rub it gently when I think of her. And it feels so fucked up because before I even knew I was officially pregnant and then not I found myself gently placing my hand on my stomach all the time. I didn’t know why. But her energy is beautiful and sometimes I’ll play certain songs because you just can’t be sad when she’s so pure and filled with light.

I don’t think I was unfit anymore. I just think the timing wasn’t right, there was too much stress, etc. In time the wounds will heal and I’ll be able to go on with my life but now I am grieving and that is equally important to healing and moving on. It’s hard when many of my friends are having children and talking about how in love they are with them. I loved her too. My priorities are changing, things that didn’t seem important are now very important. I’m changing as well…

On the outside I try to be happy, I’m doing things and putting myself out there but on the inside I’m torn, weakened, and bruised. I can’t stop crying.

* My Mum called me today. She wants me to take the little angel that was my grandmother’s and put it on the altar. “I’m just so sorry for you.” She sobs. It breaks my heart.

Astrid

Beauty is in the details

A wise woman once told me “true misery comes from letting other people tell you what you’re not, and trying not to be things that you are.”

For Astrid

Lieber engle
blieb bei mir
alle tag, alle stund
bis meine seele
in den himmel kommt.

Dear angel
stay with me
every day, every hour
until my soul
goes to heaven

This is a little prayer my Grandmother used to tell me as a child and every time I hear it I automatically think of happy childhoods and fragrant white flowers. I often give it to mothers that are grieving for lost children.

It’s an odd time right now. As spring pushes it’s way in many women have been coming to me with stories of children that never came to term. Soon I will be holding birthday parties for the spirits of aborted children and miscarried souls. These are the souls that are nearest and dearest. They grow with us, have personalities and demand our attention at the strangest times.

Light a candle
Say a prayer
And understand that you will always be loved
They do not hate
They are the purest of the pure

Duty

I’m being tested. I have to elevate with no feelings attached, out of duty for the dead. This is my work, not my pleasure but once again my duty.

I want to give light to are succumbed in darkness but order to do this I must set aside my own feelings. These prayers I speak can only be spoken with a clear mind and a sound voice.

This week I was supposed to spend the weekend at my Godmother’s. Now I can only spend Saturday. I’m on day 5 of the elevation and you cannot skip a day . This is a test. I feel it. I see it. I can taste it. And so my work goes on.

Land Spirits Bring Gifts

Often when I travel I will pick up offerings for the land spirits. A lot of people forget that these spirits are the ones that protect this land, it is there’s and you must respect them. Sometimes you can get a sense of them around and other times they show themselves physically. On this occasion they showed themselves physically. There were two of them, Native American, I could not tell what tribe. One had long hair, down passed his shoulders and almost to his forearm. He was wearing hawk feathers and had a tiny medicine pouch around his neck. The other had a mohawk and had no adornments. They spoke strongly that the land was not in order. They were not concerned for the people who walked on the land but for the land itself, for it once was healthy and happy and now it was diseased. “The trees, they whisper,” they spoke “and the wind howls in disapproval.” They offered me a gift for listening and asked me to relay their messages. Most people would not see this as a gift but as a spirit worker it is the most divine gift one could give and I give them many thanks for offering it to me. I have placed it onto my Native American ancestral altar, and there it shall remain.

In other news, Holly thinks she’s hysterical today.

They Were looking for some Indian blood

I should have known.  I should have known I’d end up a death worker.  As a child my happiest memories were digging graves for the roadkill I’d find in front of the house.  Their carcasses were placed lovingly into little tins with small bits of fabric covering them.  Down into the hole they’d go and prayers were said as the dirt thumped against the metal.  Popsicle stick crosses bore the names of the deceased and buttercups, violets, and johnny jump ups were laid up on the fresh soil.

Years later I’d find myself doing homework and hanging out in the cemeteries in town.  When people asked for an explanation the only words that passed my lips were.  “It’s safer there. I won’t get hurt.”

But I never really knew the pain of death, the heartbreak, and seclusion it could bring until my fiance died.  It was the same year I found out I had Indian blood.  It’s been eleven years since the love of my life passed away and eleven years that I’ve known about my blood.

These two go hand in hand.  Although I knew I had a knack for burying the dead, until Brian’s death I had not really spoken to them on a higher level.  There were guides here and there but I couldn’t really understand them.  When Brian died I was introduced to whole different ways to speaking to them.

Today is my Father’s birthday, and tomorrow marks the day I received the phonecall.  I’m at a cafe with sorrow in my heart and tears in my eyes.  You see, I believe there are a lot of things ending…

I love my path but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t rip me open each and every day.

When I died I was only trying to save you

“I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Gods don’t put us in such situations lightly. There really is no other way. And They number every one of our tears.” Galina Krasskova