Angels In The Darkness - Chapter 4

So now we understand that the girl who, for many a full moon, diligently and successfully protected her light, came crashing down. We’ve learned a bit about a certain boy meeting that certain girl, and we’ve unraveled into the deep vulnerability of true surrender. From love to loss, from light to darkness, from true north to truly lost - let us continue to follow this heroine's journey. Let us continue into the darkness. Follow me if you're not comfortable in the dark.

It was mid day and I was in the passenger side of my sister-in-law's vehicle traveling to emerge. Mr.Brady’s sister and I are very different. She was a Jimmy Choo shoe play hard work hard woman, I was a sustainability junkie with a big playful attitude and a fire to change the world. Till that day at the ultrasound, we were polite but not well bonded by any sense of the word and, she was to be an aunty for my child. So I was excited to have her there to represent the other half of my babies family. By having her at the ultrasound I felt that daddy was there too. I felt blessed to have family, even if it wasn’t my own blood - it was my babies. Thank you Erica. Your presence was a precious gift. …driving… The vehicle was silent, stone-faced, I phoned my lover to gently tell him his sister was taking me to the hospital for emergency surgery. I tenderly told him the docs would have to take the fetus out of my body to ensure my life and assured him I was more than capable of facing this on my own. My family was across the country, where I grew up. Brady was seven hours away and had been working for over thirty hours straight. I asked him to stop working and go sleep (so he could digest this transition safely). He agreed only to appease me, then continued to drive straight home to us.

Are you good at asking for help I wonder? I’m ok. Surely I wasn’t ever when I truly felt vulnerable. Need help moving I’m fine offering up the pizza and beer deal, need help with editing, help is near and I’m happy to ask! If I was truly feeling weak though, tender and raw - I clammed up or went to pay for help. I needed to be seen as strong and independent - capable - you know? I didn’t want to “put anybody out”. The difference now though was I wasn’t just responsible for me anymore, I had a little one to consider. For the precious gift in my belly, I would let go of all my masks. I called a good friend, Glenda the good witch. She’s a great friend, a wise, funny goddess, and an energy healer.

Watching the buildings pass by getting closer to the hospital, still stone-faced and now fighting to keep holy terror at bay - I called her. “Glenda, the baby is in my fallopian tube. I’m on my way to emergency for surgery. I need your help. Please be with this One. Please help her have a loving transition. I need to know someone can be with my baby when she's taken out of my body. I’m floating away into lala land quickly. I won’t be present for her. Please make sure she’s ok Glenda.” I wanted to know, even energetically, my babe was being loved (remember that love is a verb). Before my heart could even beat its next beat, this dear sacred woman said “I’m canceling my clients, the babysitter is here and I’m coming”. On the outside I played it cool, but inside EVERYTHING in me broke down. I needed her so desperately and I couldn’t ask. She ignored my masks and came for me. Regardless of myself, I was deeply loved.

Did you “hear” that? “Regardless of myself”. For years, both personally and professionally, I’ve beared witness to extraordinary people suffering to no end because they refused to receive love when love presented. Many people, because of past traumas and life experiences end up accumulating such a mass of hurt and anger that they allow their pain no respite. As though, to let the pressure off of the pain might let others or life off the hook. As though enduring the intensity of real love may just fracture every negative belief system someone holds about life [Tip-maybe life lived with less protective mechanisms could be EPIC]. Had I tried to talk my dear friend out of coming for me - I have no idea what traumas and pain I’d still be holding in my body and spirit today. You see, from my one brave phone call, on behalf of my baby, I ended up with a whole team of women at my bedside. Glenda called for help. These are my angels. They showed up in my darkness each with their own precious light - guiding me through with loving trust that I would be ok. You see I didn’t know I would be ok. Never had I imagined of all people, me, the responsible, healthy, nurturing firelight who specialised in pregnancy and birth, would have to face such uncertainty and confusion about what I did wrong. Oh darling trust me, anytime anyone goes through a trauma illogical unanswerable questions arise in their beautiful minds. The main point here is, angels do exist. In flesh and blood, in fresh snow and spring buds, in a starry sky and in the sound of a flying dragonfly. The consequence of my angel visit was so impactful that I am sure the moment will comfort me one day when I die.

Mr.Brady and I met doing personal development. It is in that time that I met some of my favourite humans. It is a handful of these dear friends that surrounded me with their light and their belief the day the magic in me dwindled. It waned to a mere spec - one single ember barely lit. On that day, the day Glenda the good witch called forth our clan, the day I actually started bonding with my sister-in-law, four beautiful women gifted me their medicine.

Erica my sister-in-law stood by being as steady as the ocean waves, occupying my mind with stories and small talk. Through her actions, I knew that even without training or comfort - love and family mattered. I knew my baby had love. Erica’s medicine was presence.

Glenda the good witch also knew my pain. Hers was a memory, but she knew my tears, my fear and my loss. She rocked and soothed me in that green hospital gown as my mother would have as I cried a sea of endless tears. To her I could surrender my strength. Glenda’s medicine was an understanding mother’s love.

Next to arrive was Kristina - a gentle, kind soul with a heart as soft as fresh cotton. Of all the women and strength among me, it was Kristina who ensured I stayed present. “Stay here Jamie” she’d say. “Look at me Jamie” she’d instruct. “You can do this” she asserted with power and confidence I believed in. Her medicine helped me stay in my body with my babe.

Lastly but in perfect harmony was Lisa. Lisa is an ambitious bright light with charisma and direction. When my inner belief wavered, which it never had before, and waver it did - she lent me hers. It was Lisa who reminded my exhausted empty self that all my dreams could still come true. Over and over she reminded me. Lisa’s medicine was an unwavering belief in our right to have our cake and eat it too.

With “family” at my side, kind and sympathetic nurses checking in, I was able to admit that my nightmare was actually coming true. I could face reality but not loose track of my tiny burning ember of light within. Shortly before they wheeled me into the OR room, Brady arrived - exhausted, delirious, and relieved that he got to me first. He kissed my hand, stared into my swollen eyes, and held my hand as the nurses prepped me. He should not have driven, but I was never so glad to see him as that night. Lisa left, my love fell asleep, head on my lap with my hands in his within moments of sitting down, then the nurses brought me to the OR. I asked the nurses as they readied me to drift away, tubes and an oxygen mask approaching my face - “help me laugh please, I’m totally terrified for this”. I wasn’t terrified of the minor surgery, I was terrified to face the reality that soon, I would be lost - my familiar identity a mere memory. I was vulnerable and raw but my light was already getting brighter. I was not alone in my journey. Now I knew it. Thanks to my angels, my lover, and my willingness to receive real, selfless love when it came knocking - regardless of my stupid egoic shit, the stage had been set for the epic healing journey that awaited me. I was ready to face my darkness - not the world’s, but my own. I was ready to own it, face it, and befriend it. I had no other choice. That’s what you have to believe you know, that you have no choice. Your sparkle, that spark of light in you - is everything, and it matters to all of us. Even just now, as my husband sits across from me working late on a Monday night early Spring in Vancouver Canada - he’s playing “Demons” by Imagine Dragons -  for me. He doesn’t even know the words I just wrote. Love is in the darkness. I promise you - it’s not all bad. Love is in the darkness.