First born visitor


Osiyo~

This week in my spirit stories I’m sharing the miraculous birth of my first born.

I’ll start at her very beginning. In October 1983 I got pregnant. Hubby and I lived with my mother at the time in Washington state. Right off I had severe morning sickness. I still have no clue why they call it ‘morning’ sick because I was sick from early afternoon past bedtime every freaking day for three months!

When I was three months pregnant I had what my OB doctor called a partial separation of the placenta. “Thank goodness. I thought I was having a miscarriage!” was my response to his diagnoses of the bleeding. He informed me that that was the beginning of a miscarriage. Meaning that the placenta was trying to separate from my uterine wall. GULP. I was put on bed rest and told to take it easy the remainder of the pregnancy. All six more months. Not bed rest for the whole time, but careful.

My mother’s boyfriend was bouncer at a bar and when I was four months along he had called one night and asked us to come over with Mom to play pool. Shortly after we arrived a regular customer pulled a gun and shot Don, the bullet narrowly missing my mother. I’d seen a shiny ‘something-I-thought-was-a-knife’ and she’d slid from her booth seat across from me to stand. The bullet was in the wall behind where her chest had been, not two feet from me. Hubby had leaned back to get a better view and the same bullet missed his neck because he had. Don lived, with no organ damage (he had a healthy beer belly!).

Then that same month my gramma had to have by-pass surgery across the country from us, in N Carolina. Mom went. That was the last time I saw Mom alive. Before she returned hubby and I decided to return to Oklahoma. At five months along we made the trip by Greyhound. Things went fairly well once we got settled in. Until my sixth month when my mother, a fairly healthy woman we thought, (having returned home by then) passed away unexpectedly one night at 46 years old.

Now you see the pattern? Every month from the time I got pregnant something dramatic happened. Oddly- after her death not one solitary incident happened again. The remaining three months went by smoothly. Until the night I went into labor and the car broke down half way to the hospital, that is, but that’s another blog post.

It was a party atmosphere in the delivery room. I was munching ice and listening to the anesthesiologist tell jokes while the doctor did things I wasn’t aware of *down there* and hubby looked on. It occurred to me suddenly that I was having a baby! Maybe I should push like those prenatal classes taught? The doctor welcomed me ‘to the birthing party’ when I did and told me to keep it up. DUH! That girl did not want to be born. The nurse asked if we had names chosen. Now that in itself was odd to me. I knew without a doubt (and without an ultrasound to prove it) that I was having a girl. I can’t explain it- I just knew. As if someone had told me.

After twelve hours of labor the doctor armed with forceps delivered my leggy bundle of joy. We gave her the chosen names for each sex and the instant my daughter was born the nurse yelled- loud!- not that it was a girl, but that “It’s Calais!”

27 years later

The nurses did their stuff and, along with hubby, ran from the room to show off my baby. I didn’t get so much as a glimpse of a toe before they took her out to show the family! Not a hair. I was put in recovery, the baby in the nursery. Five hours later I woke up and asked to see my baby for the first time.

When the nurse brought Calais to me I realized I had already seen her, studied her face, knew every detail of her tiny face. Yet, I’d never laid eyes on her. How? Before I woke I had a ‘dream’. A visit- from my mother. She hadn’t spoken, simply smiled and showed pride in her face. She held my baby in her arms and showed her to me. Lots of thick black hair, tan complexion (from birth her Cherokee blood was evident, as you can see in this pic above, more than any of my three girls), long fingers… I knew she was mine by her appearance alone the instant I looked at her, without reading the name bands on her arm and foot.

I believe that’s why nothing else happened during my pregnancy after my mom died. She protected her first grandbaby from the other side in a way no one else could have. That was also the only time I saw my mother after her death. I’ve dreamed about my gramma, my dad- never of Mom. Not one dream. Just that ethereal hospital visit.

What about you? Do you get visits you can’t explain? Care to share?

Dodadagohvi~

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About Calisa rhose

I'm a mother of three daughters, five granddaughters (with a new surprise on the way), and wife to a wonderfully supportive man. I began writing warm-you-to-the-bones romance as a teen, and the addiction has now morphed into a life of its own. I became a published author in May 2011! I create art and jewelry with polymer clay and beads to relax, and have a passion for sewing for fun. See my art, craft and sewing projects at http://lisasfancifulallure.wordpress.com

Posted on 10/27/2011, in family, inspirations and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 23 Comments.

  1. I think it’s a special gift that allows some to see/feel/hear spirits. And true there is more than meets the eye, to be cliche. 🙂 Glad you made it by, Lo.

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  2. Calisa,
    What a wonderful story!…I enjoyed the whole experience:)…As to, do I see dead people…very infrequently, but I do feel them…and like you, dream of them and have precognitive experiences.
    Each experience helps me know there’s much more going on than meets the eye, and keeps me from being quite so antsy in tough situations…
    This was such a delightful, early morning read:) Thanks for sharing your experiences with us!
    Lo

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  3. My Dad, Mom and brother, who have all passed, frequently come to me in dreams to tell me they are happy and well.

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  4. Amazing story, Calisa!

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    • Thanks Kristi. You know, my in-laws never believed my mom was visiting my daughter and me. They don’t believe in spirits staying, returning. Well, they believe to an extent. MIL tried to tell me if I thought it was my mother then it was Satan trying to torment me with one of his demons. Funny. I never felt tormented. I felt loved. Maybe Satan is converting back? 🙂

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  5. I’m sorry you lost your mom way too soon but she’s there, watching you and your beautiful Calais. I lost my youngest son when he was 27. My most memorable visit from him was when my husband, and a friend were with me at our beach condo. I was looking thro the guest book, reading the comments and a picture of me and my son slipped out of the book. While we all sat there with our mouths hanging open, the door shut audibly. I’m glad there were two others with me, I might have thought I was imagining things. Unexplainable and wonderful.

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    • Thank you Gale. And it sounds like Mom, your son was keeping an eye on you and yours as well. I’ve never had anything audible happen (unless you consider the one that shoved me down stairs as a kid audible). I would love the chance to speak to a spirit.

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  6. I wiped a tear after reading this. What a lovely spirit story. But I’m sorry your mother couldn’t be around in the physical realm to watch your beautiful daughter grow. I miscarried my first. I knew from the moment the doctor told me I was pregnant I’d never have that baby. A voice in my head warned me. When I was 5 weeks, I sneezed and had a horrible pain. I knew then the baby was gone but the doctor’s exam didn’t confirm it. But I knew. That quiet voice in my head told me. At 12 weeks I started spotting. An ultrasound showed I was 5 weeks pregnant. There was just a small separation of the placenta from the uterus but I knew I’d never have that baby. It died at 5 weeks. I knew it. The voice in my head confirmed it. My body was just then figuring things out. I lost the baby of Friday the 13th at 13 weeks. I was upset but not devastated because I knew from the beginning that baby (and I think it was a son) was never meant to be. In November, I was pregnant again. And I KNEW I was having a beautiful healthy girl. I never had morning sickness but once I hit the 5 month mark, I got sick every single night at 9:00. The ultrasound (not as sensitive as the ones today) couldn’t confirm sex. The umbilical cord was in the way, But I knew it was a girl.And on 8/19/86, I had a beautiful 9 lb 12 oz daughter.

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    • Oh Lilly. You’re story made me tear up. How sad to carry ‘him’ knowing from the start you would never hold him! And eerie about the dates. My mother considered Friday the 13th her ‘lucky’ day. 🙂 But God is gracious giving you the baby girl you had a year later. Thanks for sharing that lovely story. I know it must still be hard to think about the one you lost.

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      • Funny thing Calisa, but since I miscarried, the 13th has been lucky for me. I finished chemo on the 13th. I was published after 13 years of writing. My husband was born on the 13th. I guess loosing the baby could be luck. I have my daughter. And I always felt as if there was something wrong with him. I guess it was God’s way of saving the child from suffering.

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  7. Beautiful story, Calisa, though I’m sorry for the loss of your mom.

    My husband has had a spirit of sorts with him for years and years, though I haven’t noticed her lately. He calls her Abigail and I’ve had a few encounters with her myself. But after our daughter was born and we brought her home from the hospital she would not sleep in our bedroom where her crib was set up. She’d sleep in any other. We could have her asleep in her bassinet and wheel her into our room and she’d immediately wake up and cry. Finally after 2 weeks of this my husband, on a whim and because we were out of ideas, asked Abigail to please leave her alone. From that day on she never had any problem sleeping in our room.

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    • Wow Ceri. I don’t think I would like one that bothered my kids. I’m too protective. It’s good Abigail left your daughter alone after he spoke to her though. Sister had one she dubbed Carmen when we were teens. I think it was the old woman who had owned and died in that house before we rented it.

      Thanks. I miss Mom and Dad still.

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  8. Thank you for sharing….It was beautiful…Your daughter is so pretty….I hope you found out what caused your mothers death….I know you are proud of your daughter and your mother….

    Take care,
    Melinda

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    • I’m very proud of all my daughters, Melinda. This one went through a rough time at 18 when her fiance was murdered but she got through it three years later, scarred and a lot wiser.
      We did find out the cause. It was alcohol poisoning combined with a brain aneyrism (sp?). She was a social drinker but she had no idea her body stored up the toxic chemicals from even the occasional drink and built up poison around her heart. They said her heart ruptured causing the brain to, or visa versa. Of course the coroner knows, but I can’t remember which caused which. Thank you for coming by, when posts like this can’t be easy for you right now.

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  9. Hi Calisa…your story is amazing and sent shivers down my spine…but the good kind, nothing creepy 🙂 And your daughter is beautiful. Love how the bonds of family can be strong, in unearthly ways. Thanks for sharing!

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    • Thanks Christine. I love that not all of my stories are scary. It’s nice to think Mom is watching out for us. 🙂 I think Calais is beautiful, too. She was a child model and as an older teen in California. It’s funny because she modeled with her husband’s ex-wife when they were still married and didn’t find out till she met him years later.

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  10. I had a dream that my dad was getting on a plane. The old-fashioned propeller ones, where you walk across the tarmas and up the stairs, to get on the plane. He was waving and saying good-bye. The next day his girlfriend called to tell me my father had passed away 3000 miles away.

    I loved your story and your beautiful “little girl”.

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    • That’s sad, yet awesome Jill, that he told you good bye before he went. I’m sorry for your loss.

      My brother dreamed of a specific plane, model, color– it crashed into the Mississippi River within view of his apartment he lived in at the time, killing all on board. The next day he heard on the news that a plane, exact to the one in his dream, had crashed into the Miss. River, just where the one in his dream had the night before. Pilot and passenger died.

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  11. Oops! I posted the comment before I had the chance to edit it.

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  12. What a lovely story, Calisa. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful and intimate glimpse into your life. I know your mother knew that you really needed to see your baby. When my sister and I were children we had shared dreams. One shared dream was one of what we called “see-throughs” which were friendly smiling people dressed in old-fashioned clothes standing around our bedroom. When we grew older, we decided they were ancestors.

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