My Special Angel

by

H. R. T.

         My husband Steven and I were very much in love, and when we discovered a baby was seven months away, our joy overflowed. We picked Stephanie for a girl and of course, Stephen, Jr. for a son.

      The Second World War was in full swing, and soon Steve had to leave to go overseas. I felt lucky to have parents to move in with. They, along with my two younger sisters, took good care of me.

       Although I was sad and worried about Steve being so far away, I was determined to go through my pregnancy with a positive attitude.   I did everything right. Good food and plenty of exercise. My favorite two pastimes were writing to my beloved, and talking to my baby.

       It wasn't common knowledge in those days that talking, singing, and communicating with your unborn child was beneficial. I did it because I wanted it to know how much I wanted it, and how many plans I had for the three of us.

       I told my son or daughter how beautiful and smart they would be. And what special talents they would possess.

     My time passed, and I grew very large. The doctor said that I was fine, and the baby was going to be normal.

     My due date was only a few days away. By then, it was impossible for me to sleep laying down, so mom would prop up pillows behind me and I would manage to sleep, either dreaming of Steven or my baby.

      I had just fallen asleep when I felt someone or something jerk me awake. Bright light filled the corner of the room, and within its center stood an angel. Her hair was long and golden, and her eyes were deep blue. She neither smiled or spoke, but pointed her finger towards my stomach. I tried to asked her what she wanted. I knew she was trying to warn me, but I had no idea of what.

      The next morning I went into labor. Everything went wrong. The baby was too large to turn naturally in the womb. After twenty hours of labor, my heart started giving out. It was much too late for a C-section, and the doctor was forced to pull my daughter out of me, accidently puncturing her skull with her own elbow and damaging her brain severely. As a result, my beloved daughter grew up with Cerebral palsey.

       This incident took place over forty years ago; and I still think of the angel. My daughter is grown now, and she is quite wonderful, and talented. But she has struggled throughout her life. There have many tears, but even more laughter. She looks very much like that angel I saw, with deep blue eyes and blond hair. And the very best thing is she has always been her father's and my "special angel."