Bleeding to death...

Bleeding to death isn't something most people get to experience in the United States nowadays. But...it still happens from time to time. And, as dying goes, it seems like a pretty dramatic way to depart. Hemorrhaging. I think of that word in a two part dissection... Heme is the root word for blood... raging is a flush of energy... Hemorrhaging... the action of blood raging forth in sudden energy.

Last year, on this very day, I bled to death. As I said, it's a dramatic way to go, so perhaps my father was right to have determined as a child that I was his little "drama queen." Frankly, at this point, I feel that drama is waaaaaay over-rated, and now when I pray, I pray for boredom- peace- mellow- even...predictable- to come my way. Lesson learned... No more drama for THIS lass thank you very much!!

Last year, at this time, I had no idea that I was a mother of twins. I knew that I'd lost a beautiful baby boy 5 weeks before, and my grief was heavy...concentrated. I knew that I'd walked every single day with my husband while we talked, cried, talked and cried. I knew that I'd told God he could "Fuck off" if this was the kind of thing he had planned for me; and I meant it. However...the very action of telling God to "Fuck off" is a statement that you do, in fact, believe in God...no matter how much of an asshole you believed God to be; which to be honest...I very much felt that God was acting like an asshole.  A complete, and total...asshole...

So, I couldn't really become an Atheist or an Agnostic because in spite of how angry I was...I was still quite sure God was real. I was also sure that if anyone could take being told to "Fuck off"...it was God. I was also pretty sure that if God knew anything, it was that to be told to "Fuck off" was entirely deserved under the circumstances.    I offer my apologies to anyone who might be offended by the idea of telling the Almighty that he can go take a flying fuck after stealing my baby from my womb..... but.... that's just my honesty talking.  I'm willing to admit the power of my rage... That's how I felt it...and God, being Almighty, being EVERYTHING, is sure to be able to take that kind of powerful rage.  Trust me on that.

Yes....the anger I felt was raging.

My baby had been taken away, and I was left with a heavy feeling inside of myself that wouldn't go away.

I felt....lost.

So, one year ago on this very day...my husband and I took a walk. Again. We talked about that heaviness. We talked about how assaulted by life I felt. We talked about our baby that I yearned for every day...and how deeply sad I was.

One year ago, I discovered that ritual is within everyone's grasp. I'm not talking about the rituals found in church...not the stale rituals that people practice without even thinking or feeling. I'm talking about authentic ritual. The ritual's that life brings forth into consciousness to deal with a personal situation. A ritual designed by spirit...just for you.

As we were walking...talking...crying....a ritual appeared to us. And because we are who we are, we went with it. Fully. And as Rudyard Kipling would say..."A magic was made". Something inside of me lifted...released....and I felt it in every corner of my being. I smiled for the first time in 5 weeks.

We went home in a tight embrace...feeling closer than ever before.

And then...

I began to bleed. Hard. Fast. With fervor. Raging.

When you are hemorrhaging like that, you know that you can't lose that much blood without consequences. That kind of bleeding makes a person aware that if they have any chance of survival at all, it will be at a hospital...so that is where we went. Quickly.

Just as I could see the blood that flowed from my hospital gurney onto the floor in a river that ran out of the door while rushing nurses tried not to slip in it, my life also began to drain from me. I could feel it leaving my body.

Suddenly, I was there. I had been there five weeks before and I recognized it right away. Admittedly, when I'd found myself in that golden field the first time, I half doubted it because I was having an allergic reaction to morphine (if you want to do me in, offer me opiates...ha ha!)

But, this time, there were no opiates involved, and I knew it was really real. A beautiful child ran up to me with arms outstretched and said "MAMA!" with such joy in his voice...as if he'd been waiting for me. I held my little one in my arms....and then....

I was back. I looked up at Ty and saw IV blood dripping into my veins..."I saw our baby Ty...I saw him again...but...he looked different this time. Why did he look different???"

The next day, after waking up from an emergency D&C...the lightness was there again. I felt so blissed out to know that the spirit world was indeed real. After all, I'd BEEN there. Twice.

Of course....it all made sense really...because I'd been carrying a twin that no one knew was there. waiting. It all made sense. Everything had come in two's for this experience. Even my midwife had wondered about twins due to my measurements...twins that couldn't be seen in the ultrasounds. We didn't know....until we knew. It took bleeding to death to find out the truth. I am the mother of twin sons. There really IS a spirit world that is open to everyone when we die; for I've not been "saved", confirmed, baptized, or otherwise engaged in dogmatic rituals required by any religion....and yet...it was there for ME too. I know that will be hard for some people to accept....but, I've been there, and I know. This isn't a secret club with a special code or handshake required to get it. It's just there. For all of us. period.

It's just there. It's beautiful. It's real. And...Simon and Alexander will be there to greet me when it's my time.

One year ago today, I bled to death.....and in that....everlasting life was revealed to me.

It doesn't take my sadness away...my grieving lingers on....I miss my twins....

but...it does help to know that they aren't really...gone. Just waiting. In that beautiful place of gold and purple light and brilliance.

Just waiting.