I Love You - More

I believe our children have messages and things to teach us. I can tell you stories from each of my kids. My youngest son, Ryan, has given me one of the simplest, yet one of the most profound messages.

Since he was a baby, our bedtime ritual has involved reading stories and snuggling. At the end of our cuddling, I tell him I love him as I leave his room. Since he was four years old, he has been telling me in response, “I love you more!"

I remember debating him over this thought for at least a year. I told him it was not possible for him to love me more than I loved him. Until I had children, I had no idea how all encompassing, consuming and pervasive a mother’s love was. I hear many other mothers say the same thing about their children – their lives and priorities changed the moment they had children. They had no idea they could love someone as much as they now loved this new little human. I felt the same thing with the birth of each of my children.

So, how could my four year old son possibly understand that? How could he know the depth of a mother’s love at a mere four years old?

 

Our bedtime ritual, including our “I love you’s” continued. At some point I gave up trying to explain the depth of my love for him. Maybe he had reached the ripe old age of five by then. I decided he would understand sometime in the future, but for now, we would say the words we each felt in our hearts, and I would simply allow them to be. 

During the next few years, I would begin a process of personal transformation. My marriage ended, and I would leave my long-term job and profession in accounting, and my small town of twenty plus years, as well as the state of Massachusetts, for a cross country move to California.

As I shed each layer of who I had been, I found parts of myself that I long ago forgot. Throughout this time, my little guy would continue to tell me he loved me “more”. But now there was another voice echoing his, one I couldn’t hear in the chaos of my old life. It was my daughter, Mary, whom I had aborted almost twenty years earlier. Her presence would come at the most unexpected times, but her message was always the same. I am here and I love you. 

 

 

The messages from Ryan and Mary came full circle in 2012 when I read James Van Praagh’s book Growing Up in Heaven. He writes that our children chose us to be their parents, even children who are miscarried or aborted. These children know that they will not be born, but choose to come into the mother’s life to help them learn lessons of self-worth and self-love. 

As I read those words, I sobbed. Suddenly, I knew Ryan was right. He did love me more. And so did my daughter Mary. They are in my life to help me learn a lesson in love and self-worth. There was nothing more I needed to do to deserve that love, I was enough just as I was. 

Now, when Ryan says to me “I love you more Mommy”, I say “I know Ryan, I know”. 

Namaste.

Our Unborn Children's Souls Speak to Us

I will remember this day as long as I live. November 22, 2003. This was the day I first glimpsed my daughter, whom I chose to abort in July 1992.

I was at a retreat, trying to heal myself of the deep wounds still within me from the abortion I’d had over a decade earlier. Our first task was to carry a heavy rock everywhere we went, even the toilet and shower, to get the physical sensation of the emotional burden we were suffering.

I woke that November morning, in tears, determined to move forward. I carried my rock with me to breakfast and decided then and there that I would not succumb to this heaviness any longer. I went to the chapel in the retreat house, put my rock on the altar and fell to my knees.

“Dear God!” I cried. “I am so, so sorry for what I’ve done. I am so sorry.” And I burst into tears, my body heaving with each sob.

Almost instantly, in my mind’s eye I saw my little girl. She was about three years old. I saw her laughing and playing in a beautiful sunlit meadow with other children. I knew she was my daughter, with the same color of dark blond hair and same light blue eyes. She was skipping and dancing in nature. She was happy!

In those moments of releasing my pent-up emotions, the liberation of my spirit began.

Later that day, our retreat leaders led us through a guided visualization where we walked into a meadow — the same meadow I had seen in my earlier vision — to meet our children. What a gift I was given to have “seen” her before this group exercise. It allowed me to trust myself and to know that all was well for us both.

It has been many years since that first experience of meeting my unborn daughter. I named her Mary for the purity, innocence and love I saw and felt from her. I take a retreat once a year or so, and every time I do, she shows up for me. I no longer feel sadness, pain or angst when I think of her, I feel her spirit with me as one of love and tenderness.

As I reflect upon James Van Praagh’s theory that our unborn children are here to help us with our soul’s lessons, I feel Mary’s presence around me, urging me forward. I know that she was willing to delay her entrance on earth so I could learn my lessons. It was, and is, a gift of love.

In a world where abortion is so greatly stigmatized and death is so abhorrent to us, this transformation has been truly miraculous.

This perspective is a gift. I can see my abortion in a different light, one that makes perfect sense and is good for all. And I can pay forward this love best by allowing in the lessons she is teaching me as every year goes by.  

Mary’s soul has been speaking to mine for a long time.

Can you hear your children whispering to you? Can you open yourself to their love? What are your children’s souls saying to you? Take a moment to remember your experience, step back and observe your true feelings. Once you open your heart to your authentic feelings, the listening becomes easier.

Namaste.

 

 

 

Transcending Religious and Political Issues with Spirituality

As a woman who has had an abortion, for many years I struggled with who I was and what I had done. I believe in the sacredness of life, yet I also believe that life can be very hard. I believe in a woman’s right to choose, yet I have a hard time killing a bee. Am I pro-choice or pro-life? Am I both or neither? And how can that be?

Having been a devout Catholic, as well as businesswoman, I can relate to and understand both sides. As a woman who had an abortion, neither side gives me solace about my choice. It is virtually impossible to feel secure in a world where so much hatred exists with regard to this issue.

Despite the contradictions, I have discovered a place of safety, freedom and serenity from my past.


Dr. Brian Weiss wrote in Messages From the Masters that we choose our parents. When I first read that almost two years ago, something shifted in me. Does this mean that my children, even my unborn children, chose me to be their mother?

I have had one abortion and one miscarriage, so I have two babies living in spirit. It was one thing to think philosophically about my three living children and this teaching, but what about my unborn?

Six months after reading every one of Dr. Weiss’ books searching for more answers, through a serendipitous encounter with a former high school classmate, I was led to James Van Praagh’s book, Growing Up in Heaven. Mr. Van Praagh must have heard my question, for he answers it in this book. Although there are less than two pages in it devoted to abortions and miscarriages, he writes that “both souls (the unborn and the mother’s) have agreed that they will go through this experience for growth.” He also writes in the case of abortions that they “are lessons for the mother to learn self-love and self-worth”. 

My life took new meaning and required more and different exploration when I came to consider these principles. I believe we are indeed souls occupying a physical body. With this basic premise in mind, it is obvious that there is a whole other world outside of the physical reality we live in that transcends the limitations of our third dimensional living. 

It seems impossible that the struggle between the political and the religious will ever end. But in my own life, the war is over. The struggle in my human consciousness no longer holds sway over me. In my moments of connectedness with the Divine, I am grateful that I have been able to receive the gift of these lessons marked by an infusion of deep and profound love. I hope that as I share my story, others who struggle will come to find peace in knowing they are deeply loved as well. 

Namaste.