The Birth of my son was an amazing moment in my life. It was a peak experience. How else can you describe feeling so close to God? Creation has only convinced me more of the love God has for every single one of us. He created us!
Yet, right after that moment, I had a very frightening episode: severe preeclampsia. I was swiftly taken to another room. I was strapped into monitors, my arms and legs were placed in casings, monitors all around me, no food, only clear liquids, 24 hours of treatment and observation. The medications made me lethargic and only slightly grounded in reality. My only thought was 24 hours. 24 hours and then I can see my baby.
I am writing this blog, so you know what happened. The saints and the angels were with me. I survived. Baby and I are together all day at home. There are moments the exhaustion is profound. There are moments of anxiety when my mind is conjuring a million worst case scenarios. There are moments when I look in the mirror and wonder where the glamorous lady has gone. Still, more than any of that, I feel like I am thriving with a renewed sense of purpose. Many people mentioned postpartum depression to me and my husband. No one ever mentioned postpartum power to me. I feel like a strong mama bear that will and can protect her cub from anything. It’s like every comic book you ever loved. Super powers have arrived. Let the transformation commence!
DIVA. It took bringing another life into this world to remember the life I was infused with from the beginning. God somehow downloaded this deep, internal knowing inside me. I could do anything with His help. As a child, I walked and spoke with more authority than a child should at times. I wasn’t spoiled or rude. I just had a deep sense of right and wrong. I wanted to learn the truth about the beauty and tragedy I saw in the world. I wanted everyone to know exactly what was on my mind and in my heart. This mindset created an amazing opportunity for me. It sent me to boarding school. Boarding school was a completely new adventure. Custom designed for an ambitious young woman. I remember walking on the grounds of my new home at 14, meeting other kids who would become lifelong friends, and somehow in those first days I got a title…DIVA.
People called me a diva. Me? Diva? I wasn’t exactly sure what other students meant except that I had once seen what people called a diva at the Met in New York City. My father had taken me to the opera when I was 11. We saw Salome.
The opera was like heaven for me. Sweeping steps, men in suits, women in beautiful dresses, and then the music! It was like nothing I had heard before about a topic I didn’t totally understand but I FELT the POWER of the voices. Opera. This art was exhilarating! The Diva was the centerpiece of this creation.
So when people referred to me as a diva, perhaps it was meant to bring me down or mock me as the new girl in town, but I thought “Yes! That is exactly who I am. I have a voice and it is powerful!”
I felt that way about myself.
Then I forgot who I was…