Guest Blogger: Stefanie Worth
Stefanie's winner is: Boone Brux! Congrats, Boone! Send me your contact info and I'll pass it along to Stefanie. Thanks to everyone who participated.
On a hot summer day nearly eight years ago, I was driving my family from Detroit to St. Louis to visit relatives there. The trip is about nine hours (a little less if you drive like me) and we’d been in the van, clipping along for several hours.
My younger son was four at the time; that age where kids are either constantly on your leg begging for attention or lost in their own universe and barely know you exist. At this moment, he was the latter, caught up in some game of imagination far beyond our immediate realm.
I listened peripherally to his backseat murmurings. You know, the way you tune in to make sure disaster isn’t imminent because somebody touched the child next to them. His chatter grew louder and louder and something in me riveted on what seemed to be far more than playtime banter. The conversation sounded so lifelike that I sensed an exchange taking place.
(Perhaps at this point I should tell you I only had two boys – and his 12-year-old brother was asleep.)
“Who are you talking to, Sweetie?” I asked as unobtrusively as I could.
“My sister,” he said, with an unspoken air of “Duh.”
“Silly, punkin. You don’t have a sister! Are you talking to that ball?”
“No. My sister.” He insisted. “She doesn’t have a body yet, though.”
Okay, folks. I was totally freaked out. Why? Because I come from a very spiritual family: part superstitious, part devoutly religious, some parts both. Among my religious superstitious clan, there are those who profess to have prophetic dreams and see spirits. Comments like, “He’s been here before!” abounded about my oldest son because of a tiny mole near his ear or the way he looked so serious so soon in life. While many people pass those words in jest, I know somewhere deep inside that many of my folks take the sentiment to heart.
All of these beliefs left varying impressions on me as a child that I’ve questioned, researched, poo-pooed, or accepted over the years. As a result, I’ve become one of those people who believe that young children can see, hear and observe occurrences in the universe that adults have long since lost touch with.
So, I absolutely believed that my son felt he was talking to some formless soul on that long stretch of countryside highway in middle America. What troubled me most was the “Who.” I’d suffered a miscarriage several months before and the still-sad mommy part of me thought perhaps that the lost child had sought out and found his/her sibling.
Fast forward a month or so.
I am not feeling well. I’ve been suffering terrible indigestion and heartburn all summer and simply can’t take it anymore. I go to the doctor who immediately asks if I am pregnant. I scowl and say no, upset because this doctor knows my recent ordeal. Her perceived insensitivity raked across my heart, especially when she so matter-of-factly said, “Well, let’s just be sure.”
I trekked down the hall to the restroom, tiny cup in hand, increasingly dismayed. But I obliged. And you know what happened next, right?
Yes, I was pregnant.
And after the physical exam, my doctor felt like I was VERY pregnant. This would be my fourth pregnancy so you’d think I’d know what was going on. Yet there were no symptoms whatsoever – not even a missed monthly. No nausea, no fatigue, no tenderness. Nada.
The next week we found out I was ten weeks pregnant. OMG. I was stunned. And five weeks later through a follow up ultrasound, I discovered I was having a girl.
My son was right. He was talking to his sister.
She is now seven and he gives her nothing but grief. But I occasionally remind him of how he was her introduction to the world. And now I get to enjoy real-life conversations between my favorite cherubs all the time (even when they’re words are anything but angelic.)
For me, the backseat incident confirmed and continues to reaffirm a personal need to tune into the outer world. Maybe my son’s remarks made me eat better or rest more or subconsciously perform some act that helped ensure his sister’s prenatal health. I have no idea really. But, I can’t help but bring such experiences into my writing; weaving such extraordinary occurrences into every day circumstances.
My latest novella is HeavenSent.com in the Holiday Brides anthology. It’s the story of a man and woman who work together and have all the qualities they both seek in a mate, yet can’t seem to find their way to each other. They get a little help from a pair of guardian angels. The story is dedicated “to all those angels – earthly and above – keeping watch over me and mine.”
What about you? Have you ever had a hunch, a dream, a well-placed word from a friend or stranger that changed your outlook or direction? Do you write this off as coincidence or consider it destiny? I’d love to hear your thoughts. And one lucky person who comments today will receive an autographed copy of Holiday Brides.
Thanks for joining me at this stop on my HeavenSent Holiday Brides blog tour. You can learn more about me and my work at www.stefanieworth.com. I’d also like to extend an extra special thanks to Lynda for hosting me today and allowing me to share such a fond memory.