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This time of year always sucks for me. Like really f’ckin sucks.

Sorry, but not sorry… but that is my truth.

Fifteen years ago, this week, my 1 lb. 12 oz micro-preemie infant passed away.

His name was Benjamin.

He was born too soon- at 25 weeks (typical pregnancies are 40 weeks) and his lungs were not developed. He lived on a respirator for 8 weeks and then died in my arms- the first time I was ever able to hold him.

And when the ‘season’ of his death comes, it knocks me on my ass.

And what I realize is that we all have this.

We all have someone we have lost. Every. Single. One. Of. Us.

This is the human experience. We all lose those who are our beloveds.

We remember the date. We remember the season. We know exactly what  the sky looks like. And how the air feels and smells. The holiday decor or the plainness of the day- but it is not plain for us. It is a painful barrage of our senses as we feel the overwhelm and emotion rise up in our chests and burst through in the form of tears or anger or grief.  The grief overwhelms and overtakes us, many of us not knowing how to express it in healthy ways.

It is like the energy of the loss is imprinted in our senses. And none of us- not one, single one of us– gets away unscathed.

Eventually, we all lose someone close to us. A loss so profound that it rocks our soul. It could be a child, parent, spouse, sibling, grandparent, or friend. The grief is consuming and debilitating.

“Why? Why me?” I asked for so many years. I was only 31 years old. He was my first child and I was like, “Why did this happen to me?”

And the answer came many years later.

The wound, the place where I was cracked open- (no, a freakin’ gash cut into me with a dull machete)- is where the light entered.

“The wound is the place where the light enters you.”- Rumi

A couple of years after his passing, I went to medium. Right away, as soon as I sat down, she told me there was a boy here, a boy with a Buh sound… B.B.B. Your son!”

I said, “Yes!” and burst into tears. “That is my son, Benjamin.”

Tears filled her eyes. She said, “He is such a beautiful soul and he has such love for you. You carry so much guilt but it was his soul’s mission to pass this way. He spared you a life of pain (he had a grade two brain bleed which would have left him with a 64% chance of having some form of cerebral palsy-mild or wheelchair bound for life). But, he wants you to know, you are such a wonderful mother- not only to me when I was alive but also now, to my brother and sister!’

I burst into tears and literally felt the huge wound in my body instantaneously heal. It was as if the bleeding gash in my heart was just stitched up and mended.

These were the words that I unknowingly needed to hear. His death wasn’t my fault?? You see, I had to deliver him to save my own life. I unknowingly had a blood clotting disorder. The only way to save myself was to deliver my premature baby. So in saving myself, cost him his life. And the guilt of that, weighed heavily on my soul. And in one moment, he let me off the hook.

It was nothing short of miraculous.

Just recently, in a workshop I was leading, a participant (but unbeknownst to me, a psychic medium) starting channeling my son. She gave me messages from him, not knowing I lost a son. She said, “There is a boy here. Your boy!”

Through her, he told me, “My soul’s purpose was to come into your life and leave you so that you could tap into the higher realms, tap into me and my guidance for you. I am your guardian angel.”

I was like, “What??”

But as I thought about it, I realized this was the absolute truth. Before his death, I was asleep. After his death, I was looking for signs and trying to make sense of everything- the loss, my pain and the meaning of life.