Everything is okay in the face of a newborn

Amelie is four days old now, and each day I find that I fall more and more in love with her, and all of my fears about welcoming her into the world have vanished. I feel Mitch's physical absence so strong right now, piercing through my heart really, as I look into Amelie and Ava's sweet faces, I wonder what he would be saying, how he would be gazing at their beautiful little faces, and I play his music, I want to keep his presence as felt as I can for my own sake, and for the girls- I never want them to feel very far away from their daddy. I wonder if they can see or feel him more easily than I can, I can only hope. As I watch Amelie smile in her sleep, and listen to Ava and my mom's happy chatter from the other room as they color together, I can't help but cry as I think about what's missing. Although I know I must try as hard as I can to see all of the signs he is here with us, gazing lovingly at Amelie, giving Ava peace in her heart, filling our house with music from his i-phone, sending me messages in my dreams, and sending visions of all of us together to loving others who are more open to seeing, who thankfully share with me what they see... And then the sun outside shines a little brighter, a strong wind blows in through the open window, and I am reminded to be strong, have faith, and feel peace in my heart. I hold my memories close, and have the thought that Mitch's love is a part of my own heart beat now. I know intrinsically I needn't look far to find him. And then with that thought, my sweet newborn looks lovingly and intently into my eyes and I feel that somehow everything is okay as it is in this moment.

Receptivity and intention to light up the darkness

Ava and I arrived at the birthing house nearly two weeks ago, and I have found myself mentally, emotionally, and spiritually preparing for Amelie's entrance into the world, as well as grieving another aspect of the loss I feel over Mitch's passing. My intention for the stay at the house was to enjoy the heck out of Ava, really make it a special time of bonding for the two of us, connect to the special surroundings of the house, the mountainous rainforest, feel very connected to Mitch's spirit, and welcome Amelie into the world. At the start of our stay, upon Ava's request, we watched a very up close and personal video of Mitch, and it had me reeling for the next several days, and very focused on all of the ways he was not here... I struggled with connecting to the ways he was here with us, and then one afternoon while Ava was napping, I was sitting outside on the patio looking out into the vast mountains and tropical forest. A strong, calming breeze came over me, and in that instant, I could feel him, I was overcome by an overwhelming feeling of peace and joy. And then one evening a mutual friend of Mitch and I's posted a music video called “shine on,” that she felt called to share with me when she was all of a sudden filled with thoughts of Mitch and I. In those three of so minutes of watching the video, again, I very strongly could feel Mitch's presence, and was so grateful for my friend who was able to send me his message and remind me to have faith. And then one evening of instant messaging with a friend, with such a knowing, she reassured me that Mitch was with me in that moment, and would be with me during the birth. That faith that she had helped cast any shadows of doubts that I had in that moment of his absence. I was truly amazed at the power that her faith had in helping my guiding light shine just a little bit brighter. And then this morning, I was gently drawn into the town church, and although I am not a church goer, I have an appreciation for all places deemed holy. Upon entering into the church, I was overcome with feelings of a beautiful, compassionate, forgiving, divine presence that brought me to tears. I am sharing this out of pure gratitude and awe at the sometimes subtle and obvious ways that Spirit present itself to us, if we are simply open to receiving. As the days have passed here and I feel more connected to the sacred, I have found myself more and more ready to give birth and begin the new chapter of our lives... I believe that with receptivity and intention, we can allow healing and miracles into our lives.

Two steps forward, two steps back...

Ava and I were listening to my i-pod earlier this evening and a Wallflowers song came on, a song that was played during Mitch's tribute video, and so Ava asked to watch a video of her daddy. I found a video that Mitch's friend took of Mitch rowing the dingie from his sailboat to the pier, talking, laughing, living... And it struck me so deeply to the core, the kind of teeth clenching pain that is hard to express, because it's the kind of pain where you just want to scream in agony and despair, tear your own hair out, lash out at the world (if you have never known this kind of pain, be glad, and if you are scared of this kind of pain, know that you will survive through it), but then there I was sitting with my sweet little toddler as she's saying, “hi daddy!” I felt a wave of pure gut wrenching pain, where all I could do was let my tears flow and hug my daughter hard. The teeth clenching is the sheer disbelief that I will never see him again in that same physical form in which I have always known him... Now, only in my dreams, and well, the afterlife, but for me that seems like a world away, especially as I am about to birth our next daughter. But then life goes on, and I start Ava's bedtime routine, knowing I will need to return to these feelings, somehow let them find expression... And so after she goes to sleep, I write, I cry, I call a friend, and let the pain soften a bit. And I feel Amelie moving around in my belly... And the peace, the sorrow, the agony, the anger, the acceptance, all take turns, all make their appearance in this grieving process, passing through me in waves.

When I write things like this, things that are full of a lot of pain, I know they can be difficult for others to read. But I'd like to respond to this discomfort or pain I may cause in others by saying if it's too much to read, then please don't read it. I don't want to cause pain for others, but I have to be honest with my process, and hope that in doing so, it allows someone else to be more authentic with theirs. This process of self-expression, these emotions that surface after the loss of a soulmate are imminent, and in my opinion, and can only be healed properly if expressed and moved through the body. My form of expression happens to be through writing, and through my education and experience, I know I must feel in order to heal, we all must, as painful as some things are to confront and feel. And to be honest, each time I write, I feel lighter, it helps me to express my experience, and move forward through it, sometimes two steps forward, two steps back... But nonetheless, with movement...

Celebrating our love

Five years ago today marks the day when Mitch and I said “I do.” We would have also been celebrating nearly ten years of being together. He used to say that we had been together for multiple lifetimes, each life, finding each other once again, loving and fighting, loving and fighting, loving and fighting. I am grateful for this lifetime we've spent together, as I can't remember the others, and we certainly did live a lifetime together, although it still doesn't quite feel like long enough... I miss him like crazy, and am blessed to have wonderful friends and family in my life that make this time without him a little less painful. So, as I sit and look out into the miles and miles of rainforest stretched out before me, I am reminded that a whole new lifetime awaits me, filled with mystery, beauty, and love. I send prayers of thanks to Mitch for the love we've shared together, and know in my heart he is here with me now softening the ache in my heart. I love you Mitch always and forever!

Walk in faith

As the due date for baby Amelie approaches, I am finding that there is still a big part of me that is like, holy shit, I am having Mitch's baby in a matter of days or weeks, and he is not here and will not be here to start this new journey with me, with us. I know he is here spiritually, I know this, but at the same time, he is not here physically at a time where I feel like I really need him. So, now is when I need to have a lot of faith in myself, and trust in all that is good to guide and support me as I enter into this new phase of my life. Two little ones, two little ones all my own, all on my own. Sometimes it's easy to slip into a mentality where I feel like a victim, a victim of fate, I know it's easy for all of us to do when things in our lives feel like they've gone terribly “wrong.” But we all know where that gets us, not too far... I've been taking special measures to thoroughly enjoy and love Ava up before my attention is redirected to two babies... We've been going on special “dates” together, getting in extra snuggles during nap time, and in general I've been more mindful of really loving on her and noticing what a special time this is in our lives. I hear Mitch through the playlists on his i-phone, I see him in the birds that congregate around our house, I feel him in the peace in my heart when I trust in life, and of course I have a lifetime of memories and Mitch-isms that help guide me when I feel a little lost. To share a few Mitch-isms; make it happen, figure it out!, get it together!, it's all coming together... He was full of faith, and always “made it happen,” so I know I can too... :) Sometimes it's the little reminders of faith that can lift up our spirits and reassure us that we have the strength and fortitude to go on. So, in the spirit of Mitch, I encourage us all to “make it happen,” and be reassured that it will all come together in a beautiful way.

More life after life: Spiritual and physical worlds interconnected

 I have been practicing meditation for the past four years, but began practicing with a clear, strong intention six months ago, which was to connect with my deceased husband. I realized that this was a possibility when days after my husband's passing, he communicated to my brother and to his mother. I began practicing with a fervor within the structure of a group through the Self Realization Fellowship. I somehow felt safer opening myself to connecting with my husband within a group setting, as I had never attempted to or had ever experienced any type of communication or connection with someone who had passed away, and while I was desperate for it, I was also a little afraid (I'd been exposed to all of the scary “ghost” stories most of us have been exposed to). Within months of intensive two hour meditations, and many subtle and sometimes obvious signs that Mitch was sending me, I heard his voice calling my name during one of my meditations, and then he began communicating to me through my own thoughts, which I have come to understand now as 'channeling.' I was ecstatic to have my questions answered and to feel so close to him. And so for the past several months I have been learning that he will not always communicate to me in such obvious ways, and that when I ask, sometimes consciously or unconsciously, he will always show me that his presence is with me in one way or another, just as he will show anyone who is close to him who asks. I find that when I clear my mind of my own thoughts and tap into the quiet space of my soul through meditation, I can fully open to feeling inner-peace and pure well-being, and am more open to feeling connected to his spirit through felt sensations, thoughts, or feelings. Through my explorations, I am beginning to understand that the physical and spiritual worlds are much more connected than I ever could have imagined. A great quote I heard from the collective consciousness called Abraham speaks to this, “there is not death, just more life after life.”

Mystery and divinity in even the most ordinary

I just finished visiting with a friend, and I shared with her how I had spent time yesterday afternoon in meditation while Ava was asleep with the intention of connecting with Mitch. I received confirmation of his presence through chills up and down my body when my concentration was focused on feeling him, and when I felt open to receiving a sign of his presence. She remarked how perhaps he was communicating to me in all kinds of ways that required less effort, and that I only needed to open my eyes to see... That perhaps he was communicating to me through other people, through music, through my own thoughts, through nature, and that I only needed to open my eyes and my heart to feel him in my everyday life during the times when I was not immersed in deep meditation. She even remarked that perhaps he had wanted me to hear the words that she had just shared with me. I couldn't have agreed more. Another lesson in the grieving process of letting go, letting go of my expectation of what communication and connection with someone who has passed away looks like, and being open to the mystery and the divinity that lies in even the most ordinary...

Very human feelings after a loved one passes on...

After a friend shared that she felt Mitch's presence last week and that it filled her with peace, faith, and strength, I became aware of feelings of jealousy that surfaced within myself... For a few moments, I simply allowed myself to “react” with these feelings. I decided to take a step back and revisit them and the core of what was truly bothering me about what she had shared later on that day, after Ava went down for her nap. After Ava went down for her nap, I began to “write it out.” I realized the jealousy came from my small scope of understanding about what happens to our souls after we pass on. After he passed, while my brother was in a meditative state, he told my brother that he would not leave mine, Ava, nor the baby's side. My fear that perhaps he wasn't with us spiritually surfaced when my friend shared her experience, because I don't always feel as connected with him spiritually as I would like. When I am not aware of signs or communication from him, I just have to trust and have faith in his presence. And then beyond that faith and trust, I have to realize that perhaps he can be in multiple places at once, or perhaps part of his spirit lives within each of us that he has touched. Part of me wanted to hold on to him as “mine,” even though in his physical form, he was never really “mine” to have. It's a difficult lesson to be able to love someone while also letting them be as free as they are born to be. And when you lose someone, they are experiencing the ultimate freedom as we know it, and those who love them are left to learn how to let go, sometimes over and over again as we go through the inevitable grieving process that happens in its own time.

Surrendering to the waves of feeling

Just when I think I've got a “handle” on this grieving process, ie., I am relating to Mitch as a spirit now, as an angel, I'm moving through my life, this wave of sadness or anger just hits me to my core, and knocks me off my feet. If I try to avoid the anger because I'm afraid it's too big, afraid that it will consume me and swallow me whole- it waits, it doesn't go away, it festers, shows itself in my impatience, in a clenched jaw, restless sleep, or tension in my hips until I surrender to it... It was triggered the other day while I was looking at a picture of the two of us together, and it was something about the happiness in our faces, the way he was holding me, the way I was holding him back, that just triggered this wave... And all the peace and acceptance just went right out the door... And I called a trusted advisee, and she just advised that there was simply no way around it, and that the anger, healthy or not, was what it was, that it needed to find expression. I stopped fighting it, bawled my eyes out, and fell into a very deep sleep, woke up today and felt wiped out from it. And then today, I remembered a song, “so close to you,” by Calvin Harris, a song that used to come on the radio all the time when we were living in Northern California building our cabin, and more sadness... Sometimes it feels like a river that won't stop running, but then eventually it calms, and there is peace. Grieving the loss of a lover is just this process of constant surrender, not becoming too attached to any particular feeling state, because it is always in flux, letting the waves wash over me, remembering I will feel peace in my heart again.

Our life as a choice

Today I realized that how how I see the world, how I see my place in it, how I see my husband's passing, is a choice. I must choose everyday how I see. For example, today I was watching videos of Mitch and our family with my daughter, and I found myself getting angry, like, how could my life have turned out like this? How could my husband's story be over already? It seems our life as a family with another baby on the way was just barely beginning... And after being with someone for nearly ten years, you just don't expect them to suddenly pass away. So, as I'm watching the videos, I realize I'm clenching my jaw, fighting back tears, and kind of going, what the fuck? How is it that I am not going to be able to see him again as I have known him all these years... Ava says she wants to see daddy, I say I do too. But, I realized that getting angry, bitter, resentful, while it may be a part of the grieving process, also feels somewhat like a step backward. I realize that I must consciously choose how I see now. I look at the picture I framed of him yesterday, and he looks like an angel, with the lighting, the love and peace in his eyes... And because he's looking right into the lens, it feels like he is looking back at me when I look at the picture. This picture reminds me of how I can see him now, as an angel, as a spirit guide that I can connect with, that I can draw strength and peace from. I must keep looking forward with love and acceptance in my heart. This is the choice that I make. We all choose each moment whether we are aware of our choice or not, how do you choose to see?

Creating reminders of Spirit within our homes

We can create sacred space within our own homes to remind us of Spirit, peace, compassion, love, our connection to divine guidance, and our inner-light... You can use objects, pictures, or symbols that have special significance for you, that remind you of your spiritual connection to the divine.

I create reminders of my guiding light in each room of my house. On my kitchen table sits my favorite photo of Mitch where he looks like an angel, the lighting is just right, and he is looking into the lens with eyes of compassion, peace, and pure love... and beside that photo is a small vase of flowers, a small statue of buddha, and a small picture of Paramahamsa Yogananda, a spiritual teacher.

In each bathroom, hanging from the top of each mirror are inspirational charms that read, “walk in faith,” and “free as a bird.” I pulled these out of a fish bowl of charms in a boutique outside of the funeral home where I saw Mitch for the last time, and they remind me of the divine guidance that is available to me at all times, and of what is truly important.

In my bedroom, I have an altar set up where I have crystals, a deck of tarot cards, angel cards, and words of wisdom from the Sufi poet Rumi, a small statue of Buddha, a small bundle of sage, a wood caving of two lovers, candles, and a necklace given to me from my mom.

 In my car, around the rearview mirror hangs a cross with a picture of Jesus that was given to me when I bought the car.

And, in Ava's bedroom, magical glittery butterflies hang alongside the window pain, a small dvd player with a CD of nature sounds to lull her to sleep sits on a shelf along with a family photo, a book about angels sits beside her bed, and an inspirational art piece hangs on the wall.

Our work and God's work

I awoke this morning to a reoccurring dream. In my dream, Mitch has left me, broken up with me, and I am trying so hard to get him to take me back, to get him to love me again. I was reminded of a bit of advice I was given yesterday in response to my saying I should meditate “better,” longer, and with more concentration in order to connect with Mitch in a more profound way. The advice was that it sounded as if I was trying too hard, that I was trying too hard to do God's work, and that I should allow myself to simply concentrate on my work. What is my work right now? I sat on the beach this morning, my place of solace. I brought my journal, my i-pod, and presence to the feelings that were destined to come after waking from my dream this morning. My dream left me wondering where my place was in the world, and sitting on the beach, I realized that I wasn't quite sure. If I tried really hard to figure it out, I felt overwhelmed and anxious, because at this moment, I couldn't see far enough ahead to know where my future would lead me. But when I let go of trying to see into the future to know where it was I was meant to be, I knew in the moment of where I should be. I knew that place was right here, right where I was. I let go of trying so hard to figure out the rest... That was not my work at the moment, that was God's work. My work at the moment was laid out for me, I was here, raising my daughter, planning the birth of my daughter to come, and helping others on their journey, that was my work.

Following our intuitive guidance, one step at a time

Days after my husband's passing, while I was in a hotel room in Yreka, the adjacent town to Hornbrook, the location of our cabin and his passing, I received what you might call inner-guidance, my higher call, intuition, or divine intervention. It was was then and there that I knew I needed to move back to Costa Rica with my daughter (Costa Rica was a place that Mitch and I lived together for nearly 3 years, 3 years prior to the present). This intuition was accompanied by feelings of joy, lightness, peace, creativity, and a feeling of “rightness” in my gut. From that point forward, I began making preparations for our move, and it became a sort of guiding light in the darkness. But, I should say that I was not particularly used to making decisions from such an intuitive place, and throughout the ensuing months, little doubts crept in here and there, begging me to seek further guidance by way of meditation, prayer, journaling, and seeking the counsel of supportive friends and family. And today I was reminded of making decisions from that intuitive place within ourselves when choosing a place to give birth to my daughter who is due in 10 weeks. I have chosen a birthing farm in the mountainous rain forest (a safe distance from a hospital in case of an emergency) where midwives will be in attendance to my birth, where I can create a sacred space for the entry of the little one into the world; a place where my daughter can be present, or at least asleep in the next room of the little house that will be the place that welcomes the little one into the world. This decision was accompanied by feelings of peace, joy, and a sense of inner-knowing as well. If we spend a little more time in that quiet space within ourselves and follow our sense of peace, joy, and “knowing,” then we can be more confident in our decisions, and more sure of the path we are walking, one step at a time.

Birthdays; a cause for celebration

On the eve of my 31st Birthday, Birthdays have taken on a much different meaning for me...Birthdays used to be the cause of angst each year as I got older, what am I going to do to make it special? Who will I spend it with? And heaps of pressure about how to make it “perfect,” and a measure of how much I was loved by others...And I hear plenty of friends dreading the coming of their Birthdays for a variety of reasons, fear of getting older and closer to dying, a reminder of dreams lost or forgotten, a reminder of the decline of their youthful appearance, or a general sadness or nostalgia of times past... On the eve of this particular Birthday, my first Birthday without Mitch, I decide to honor the sacredness of life, and celebrate the completion of another year past, and celebrate the start of a new year, pregnant (literally) with possibilities :) A day of a spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical cleansing, welcoming the renewal of another year to create a loving, meaningful, and joyous existence. I welcome life with open arms on my 31st Birthday!

Gentle reminders of Spirit

I find myself in a quiet space today, a space of surrender and letting go. I ask to see Mitch in everything today, a recommendation from my sister-in-law last night, and I refocus my energies on my supreme connection to God, where God and Mitch are my focus upon which everything else rains, my umbrella- I trust in this divine shelter. I take notice today of the light in people's eyes, people who really see, in those eyes I see God, I see love. I cry after encounters with two older men who look at me with that light and a gentle smile, and I am reminded of Mitch in those eyes, full of light and a gentle pervasive love. My beach meditation yesterday reminds me to ride the waves with patience, without resistance, with perfect timing, the ocean has shown itself as my teacher. I sit on the rocks on the beach waiting for my car's oil to be changed and notice a tiny bright green sprout shooting up amidst its rocky neighbors, the only one, a little reminder of fresh life that can grow in even the harshest of conditions. Here I am in this place that called me back, an undeniable invitation beckoning me, and here it is where I heal, where I grow, where I plant my roots with my darling daughter and daughter-to-be. A tarot card reading from the other night that read, let your emotions flow freely, or you will be chained to the ever-changing highs and lows of the tides, reminds me to let go of control and let both my sadness and joy come at will, and I let both pass through me, cleansing my heart and renewing my soul. And once again faith comes in to reign supreme and guide my journey.

Fulfilling our children's need for love when a parent is absent

This morning as a slideshow of our family photos and past memories played as my computer screen saver, Ava said, “I want to see daddy's friends today.” I watch as she lights up and is drawn to younger men, men similar to Mitch in one way or another, some that share similar physical attributes and some that share his young, free-spirited nature. I see clearly that we are both grieving his absence in varying ways. I too find that when I see people in love, I long for him, or when I see a man that looks similar to him, I long for Mitch. I too am drawn to that masculine energy, that Ava at two years old is drawn to. And this is when there is a choice to fear not falling in love again, not finding a loving dad for my daughters, or to have faith and to trust that the perfect man will come and join our family at the right time. We all long to be loved, to have a companion to journey with in this life, but it is during the times we find ourselves without that we must look within to love ourselves more wholly, to allow our sadness, our pains, and our fears to refine us into more loving fulfilled human beings. It is then that we open to receiving more love that can come in its many forms. I cannot ease Ava's pain of loss for her dad, but for now I can make sure our home is filled to the brim with love and expose her to positive and trusting male energy as a positive reminder of her dad in some way. I can also help her connect to his spirit through daily prayers and conversations with him, and pray for his guidance in how I parent her. And perhaps as I become more whole and healed, and find more peace and fulfillment, that this too will ease some of the longing that Ava feels. And this is one of the challenges for anyone raising a child without a partner, finding ways to fulfill our children's need for love in ways that are nurturing to the soul. And in this process we too will learn to love ourselves in ways that nurture our souls.

A glimpse into grief

 The pain of loss twists and turns, swallows me whole sometimes, and I emerge soaking wet, gasping for air, sitting on the very edge catching my breath looking in at where I've been. And so for days after I slowly come back to life, moving more slowly, feeling the need for more solitude, withdrawing from expending my energy out into the world, as all the energy I have and create nourishes me, the baby growing inside me, and my daughter. And its in these days that when the demands of other relationships rap at my door, I learn to politely say that I am not home. And so during this process of grieving my husband, nourishing new life, raising my 2 ½ year old daughter, setting up new residence in a foreign country that was truly home to my husband and I, and launching my career, I just have to stop and breathe to take note of where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going. And so it is a process of gradual integration after the shock of reality fades, of a pain so deep that slow is the only way to go to not break into a million pieces. And for now, I let the earth dry my tears and I drink in the life breath that nourishes me. And I emerge a little more whole and a little more healed.