I am a birth junkie. I didn't learn this about myself until the day Willow was born. Willow is about six weeks older than Chandra, and her mother, Marie, and I were good friends at the time. We went to the same childbirth classes, hired the same group of midwives, and were present at the births of each others' babies.
Both the babies were born at home.
When Willow's mom was in active labour, she wanted a cup of herbal tea, so I went to the kitchen to make it. There was a small elderly lady in there, washing the dishes. I put the kettle on, talking to her the whole time. When Marie had a contraction, and a low moan came out of the bedroom, the lady rested her head on her forearm for a moment, standing there at the sink.
I went back in to the birthing room with the tea, and when we came out again, Willow was with us and the lady was gone.
It wasn't until nearly two years later, when Willow's parents and I were reminiscing about the birth, that I asked why Willow's grandmother didn't stick around for the birth, but left while Marie was still in labour.
Both parents looked at me like I was totally crazy.
Turns out that both of Willow's grandmothers were absent, out of town, accounted for and completely alibied for the time in question.
So who was the lady in the kitchen?
I described her as best I could to Marie, and she said that she frequently felt the presence of an elderly lady in that house.
I guess being a birth junkie is not confined to the living...
Ronni, you seem to be receptive to all that kind of stuff. I have had little flickers of things, like warnings about danger when I have been driving my car.
ReplyDeleteOnce at night while driving with my daughter I just stopped for no reason. Three seconds later a car came flying through a red traffic light, if I hadn't stopped he would have devastated my car.
Another was driving long distance with the family at night. My dad had handed over the driving to me because his eyes were getting tired. I was driving really fast (my dad's car kind of did that to you). I was approaching a blind rise and could see the glow of lights at the top of the hill and sensed danger. I pulled off onto the dirt on the side of the road. My Dad looked at me as if I had gone mad. Next thing, we saw a Mercedes overtaking a huge truck coming over the blind rise. We would definitely have been wiped out. Creepy!
Margaret, that's like my black cat story. I think it's in the archive, under Oct. 31, 2005. A black cat ran across the road, and I had to put the brakes on to not it it. It disappeared. I thought about that for a sec, and slowed down. Like you, it was a blind rise, and on a curve. the oncoming car was over in my lane, thinking the road deserted and flattening out the curve. If I hadn't slowed way down, I could not have pulled off out of his way without rolling the car.
ReplyDeleteIt never hurts to be open to all possibilities.
ReplyDeleteThis isn't a ghost story, it's Johanna's birth story, but if you should care to read it (as a self-confessed birth junkie), here ya go! :)
ReplyDeletehttp://birthstory.julieholden.com/
Dang, since I'm her mama it makes me cry every time I read it. *sigh*
Your birth story is lovely, Jooley Ann! As is your baby.
ReplyDelete