Life has a way of balancing out.

At least that's what it's supposed to do, but rarely that was my case. Day followed after day and soon enough Jessica's medication balanced out. She was on a schedule of Aspirin therapy for the Stills Disease and Dilation for the seizures. I started working as a waitress the 5 to 5 shift. I was coming when he was going, and some how in between Annie was born. She was a difficult pregnancy. I was hospitalized from my fourth month on. There was a point when the doctors were going to send me home and then both Bobby and Jessie got the measles. With that, the doctors all agreed it was to dangerous for me to go home. Day after day, nothing to do but live in a hospital room. My seizures were controlled with phenobarbital. I was also being treated for chronic high blood pressure, and I was warned to stay calm, but that was not so easy. I felt separated from everything and everyone. My mom would bring the kids to visit me and I would become so overwhelmed with grief when they left my blood pressure would soar. Eventually, the day came when the doctors told me I no longer could have visitors. I was in my own prison. Now you are probably wondering after the life changing spiritual awaking that I had, why was all of this happening to me? And there is a very simple explanation it's called surrender. We are temporal beings created with free will. I had built many walls around me some out of self defense others self preservation. My spiritual ears were closed and so was my heart. We are complicated creations we are comprised of three distinct and very different aspects. Over the centuries they have been called many things but simply put it is body, soul, and spirit. We are all very aware of our bodies it is the most undeniable aspect of the human creation and so most of our attention is focused upon it. Our other two aspects have been the subject of debate for millennium. Most people agree we have a soul, and these same people will all agree that it is eternal. If you ask the population at large if they believe there is an afterlife, the overwhelming answer is yes! Although, not many will claim knowledge as to what it is. But whether you admit it or not you must believe that there is an aspect of the human creation that continues to live long after the body dies for an afterlife to even exist. That aspect is a soul. The ancient Egyptians believed in the concept of the soul they called it the Ba. They believed that before one could enter the afterlife their three aspects had to be reunited. That they was severed upon death, and that a priest had to preform rituals first called the Coffin Texts then the Pyramid Texts and now what is widely known as the Egyptian Book of the Dead. Their Ka (spirit) Ba (soul) were united once again and housed in either a mummified body or a statue that was used as a proxy. United they were used to reanimate the Akh (spark of life) regarded as the intellect or personality of the individual. In other words, although they could be separate, it is the combination of the two that creates the individual. A soul without spirit has no life! For a very long time, I wondered about with a sleeping spirit and a soul in desperate need of reanimation. I was a product of my environment a creation of the events of my life without the emergence of my Akh. Yes, I was the walking dead. Although certain truths were revealed to me ,I had suppressed them . I could not hear that small still voice calling out to me. And for the most part, it was because I was playing the part of a transmitter not a receptor. Transmitting is what I did alright, and just after the beginning of my eighth month I was transmitting loud and clear. I called the nurse in my room. I was a high risk patient so my room was located directly across from the nurses station. I requested to see all my doctors, together NOW! The nurse could sense the seriousness in my tone of voice. She turned on her heels went straight to the desk and paged my doctors. One by one, I heard their names called over the hospital intercom asking them to call the nurse's station. Within the hour I was flanked on both sides of my hospital bed by my four main doctors. All with a very puzzled look on their face. I took a deep breath and started. That's it! My eyes grew wide . I know that this baby is going to be delivered by a C-Section and I am over eight

months pregnant and babies survive being born earlier than that. I don't want to be pregnant anymore I want to go home! Take the baby NOW! Four mouths dropped open and there was a moment of silence. Then the sound of exasperation. Mother, ( I was beginning to hate being called that!) we all understand that this is a difficult time for you. They had no idea! They could not feel the loneliness or the feeling of losing everything I ever had. No, they were too busy reading their medical journals and smelling like iodine to ever remotely relate to a person who is institutionalized ,yes ,that's what I was institutionalized. I now had an intimate understanding of the hopelessness that Jessie felt all those months living in one hospital room after another. Lesson learned, and I will never forgot it. I had no more power over my fate and freedom and I was an adult. She must have felt that the world was her oppressor. The fact that this was all for her's , and my physical well being and the well being of my unborn child addresses the body, not the spirit or the soul. I was disconnected and hadn't a clue! Never once did I want harm on my baby. I stayed day after day, needle prod and evasive test after test all for the love of my little miracle that honestly should not be surviving even this long under the adverse conditions of this pregnancy. Many times I questioned the decisions that the doctors made and repeatedly I protested about the anti convulsive drugs I was given. Always to be told Mother, (grrr) Phenobarbital does not cross the placenta barrier. I believed them, I trusted them, I had no choice! I was sounding out now, and once again it was like beating a solid drum ,just a thump thump thump. A slight sound with no resonance that dissipated without ever touching the wind. Within no time, I was calmed down and convinced that it was for the best that we wait until term to deliver the baby. With the crisis over they turned walked out and once again I was left alone in my cell. For an hour or two a day I did have some company. Bob would come straight from work . Carrying his paper bag with two quarts of beer he would sit with me while he drank we would chat for a while then off he would go home to the kids and to relieve my mother who was caring for them. Except for the occasional shift change or taking of vital signs I had no human contact. At that time, to have a telephone one had to pay for the service and television too. Sometimes Bob came up with the TV rental money for a few days but it was never consistent. The phone was limited to one or two calls a day. We could not afford anything more than that. All that time alone, all that time wasted, I never read a book, never thought a meaningful thought. I just laid in bed watched soap operas when I had TV and stared out the window. I was a spiritual and mental wasteland. Then I had a reprieve the last week of March the doctors said my blood pressure was controlled enough that If I remained in bed I could go home even though I was very close to my due date. And so excitedly I quickly packed my things and waited to catch a ride home. I made it home and settled on the couch I was just so happy to be home! The next day I felt a little twinge in the small of my back. I chalked it off to sleeping on the couch. All day long there was a steady stream of neighbors stopping by to say hi and check up on me. It was so nice to be around people again. The twinge in my back graduated to a dull throb. I would just adjust my position and enjoy the company. April Fools came and went the dull throb became a sharp pain. On the morning of the third I felt a deep rumble then like a massive explosion. My stomach erupted. Hmm, must be something I ate. By noontime I was presented with the bloody show and by that evening I was right back in the hospital in the same room and same bed only this time, with the expectation of the end in sight. The next morning I was brought to the operating room and at 8:45 Tatiana Athene ( my Fire Princess) was born. Oh she was gorgeous! Platinum blonde hair, and the most stunning green eyes I had ever seen. One by

one the doctors came in to hold, eye and boast about the little tiger that they worked so hard to bring into this world. The first day was dreamy. I drifted in and out of sleep as the anesthesia wore off. She was brought in for me to hold and feed. But by the next morning, the nursery was no longer bringer her to me and I was not given an explanation. I had to demand an explanation from the nursery as to what was the cause of my daughter's absence. It was then I was informed that she had experienced withdrawal symptoms due to the phenobarbital that was given to me during pregnancy. In other words, they were wrong and I was furious. But what happen next was just one more stone heaped on top of my head. Would this ever stop?? A member of the nursery came to my room and asked me to follow her. She led me to a small room there on the far side of the opposite wall was a tiny clear bassinet there were lights and monitors surrounding it with several IV bags hanging on a stand with tubes running into the tiny bed. As I walked closer I could see my little girl covered in white tape and hooked up to all these tubes. She didn't even look real, she looked like a tiny doll suspended by translucent strings suspended in the air. Like a little blonde haired angel. I remember gently reaching out to touch her tiny hand and noticing that mine was shaking. I was afraid to touch her, afraid it might hurt her. I stood silently for a while then with the deepest draw I drew a breath, became overwhelmed with fear and sorrow turned and ran back to my hospital room. Then I sat ,silent, until evening then slowly drifted to sleep. The next morning I quickly ate my breakfast and dressed to take the walk down to the nursery. I made it to the room one step at a time I could feel the pull from the forty six stitches that crossed my stomach. Nothing was going to delay my reunion with my baby. I stopped and leaned on the door buck when I reached the room I felt my body stop and settle and then immediately tense up when my eyes scanned the room and my daughter wasn't there. Instant panic. No, they would have gotten me if there was anything wrong! I was right down the hall. They would have gotten me, wouldn't they? A nurse whisked by and entered the room. She made her way over to another bassinet and was talking to a parent. Quietly, patiently I waited for the conversation to break and then I stepped forward and inquired about my daughter. She's in the graduating room. was the nurses reply. She turned and pointed to another door and then flashed me a half smile. I hadn't noticed but for that brief moment I had stopped breathing. I finally took a breath. With an excited skip I headed for the door. It was a large square room circumferenced by long benches filled with parents sitting closely together holding and feeding little pink and blue bundles. I caught the attention of one of the nurses crossing the floor and she directed me to my daughters crib. Please tell the doctor I would like to speak with him. I spoke softly. The nurse nodded and continued. I was filled with relief and joy. I know I was smiling as I thought to myself, The graduating room that sounds so wonderful she must be doing fine! Her tubes were gone. She lay in her little bed wrapped in a blanket with her two tiny hands peeking out each with a tiny band aid across them. She looked peaceful, angelic, beautiful. A few moments later there was a tall dark figure in a long white coat standing beside me. I looked up and smiled reached out my hand and started to introduce myself. Before I could say a word, the young man's expression changed to one of contempt and anger. I am so tiered of all of you mothers who have the nerve to show your faces here and act as if nothing has happen. Meanwhile it is your fault that your baby almost died. His voice was steadily raising in volume. The other parents in the room stopped and all eyes were on me. I was speechless, in shock and deeply humiliated. He went on, You drug addicts should not even be able to see these babies. He waved his hand in the air and said, " I have nothing more to say to you." He turned and walked away. Leaving me standing there with all eyes on me clueless to what had just happened. I felt as if someone had just ripped all my clothes of an threw me to the lions. Tears welled in my eyes, and I ran out of the room straight down the hall and

threw myself on my bed I sobbed uncontrollable tears. To be continued.......