Snow falls softly outside my sitting room window. It is early morning and a pale November sun struggles to filter through dense grey clouds; the diffusion of light lending an eerie quality to the landscape.
As I peer through the curtains, this eeriness envelops me, taunting me to peek into the Unknown. Muted clouds, heavy with snow play tricks with my mind, as if in the blink of an eye, their shifting haze could reveal a secret portal to another world.
Shaking off this unease, I force myself to focus on planning the day ahead. My husband is still asleep upstairs, so I have some time to myself before starting in on our daily routine. Early morning is my favorite time of day to meditate, to dream, to write, cocooned in the warmth and safety of my home.
I pick up my pen intending to begin Morning Pages, but once again my eyes are drawn to the mesmerizing snow as it falls outside my window. Once again I feel the pull of this strange, unsettling, yet gentle light where time feels distorted. What day is it? What time is it? What millennium is it? It doesn’t matter.
Sitting here sipping my morning coffee, cat curled up on my lap, I am transported back into the past, on this day 34 years ago.
It was another day starting out just like this. I was a young mother at home in our tiny apartment, awaiting the birth of my second child. My husband had left for work – school actually.
We were planning to have this baby once my husband graduated from technical college, in the spring, but our timing was off (who can plan a baby’s birth date, anyway?) and she was due to arrive sooner than expected -this winter.
Peter, my firstborn, was an induced birth, so I had no idea what to expect this time around. I remember looking out the window that snowy day, as my 2-year-old son played quietly with his toys. The light was grey and dull, leaving me feeling restless, as if there were no markers to hold on to; nothing to indicate whether it was morning or evening.
I dutifully washed up the breakfast dishes; then waddled into the bedroom to put on some fresh clothes. As I was dressing, I noticed some blood-tinged mucus in my panties. This must be “show”, a signal that labor was beginning.
Ohhhhh, I was tingly with anticipation – and scared! I had no idea what to do next. There were no contractions, just an annoying ache in my lower back. Was it time to go to the hospital? I was alone in the apartment with my little boy and the snow was coming down relentlessly!
I willed myself to calm down. Then I called my doctor. The secretary put me through right away.
“I’m having show” I said in a trembling voice.
“Stay home. Go to bed. This is no day to have a baby!”
I was shocked! Here I was looking for guidance, reassurance, a little direction and that’s the advice I got?
So, I did the next best thing – I called my mother.
“Well, that wasn’t very nice, coming from a doctor” was her comment. I don’t even remember what else she said, but I do remember feeling soothed after talking to Mom.
The day progressed, my contractions started, hubby came home from school, and the storm raged. By ten o’clock that evening I knew I had to go to the hospital.
A neighbor down the hall took little Peter for the night. We had no car, so called for a taxi, but there were none available. Everybody who absolutely needed to be somewhere would have called a cab, instead of battling the snowy streets themselves.
Babies come when they’re ready, but having faith in the Goddess to make things right was the belief I clung to. And, miraculously, before too much longer my brother-in-law (who lived in the same apartment building) appeared at our front door. He had just come back from work, exhausted and hungry, but took the time to drive us to the hospital.
Fortunately, the snow plough had just been around (the Goddess was busy tonight) and streets were relatively clear, making driving slow, but much better than before. We didn’t have far to go, but I was relieved once the bright lights of the hospital came into view, shining like a beacon to welcome us in from the storm.
It was around midnight by the time I was finally admitted to the maternity ward.
Things progressed smoothly from then on and my beautiful baby girl was born at 2:30 in the morning, weighing just 6 ½ lbs. She was oblivious to the falling snow and hazardous road conditions of the outside world. Inside the hospital we were warm and snuggly. I gazed lovingly into her eyes and thanked the Goddess once again.
Snow continues to swirl about outside my window. Chickadees hop and play in the hedges, seemingly unaffected by the dim light of a timeless morning.
I have a feeling that Old Souls choose this mysterious light to manifest here on Earth. Maybe the Veil is thinner, at this time, making their passage easier as they softly tunnel through the fog, and into Being. Or maybe the shifting clouds and subtle light allow these wise, crafty Old Souls to slip through and into our Time.
Newer Souls may need the luminescence of a full moon in her Mother phase to guide them on their journey through the birth canal into this Earth life.
The cat stretches lazily and then jumps off my lap. As I get up off my chair and head towards the kitchen, I smile to myself, remembering that wonderous day when my daughter, Brenda came into the world. She herself has a daughter now and is expecting a son this February.
