What is the happiest you have ever been in your life? You know, that moment everything around you dissipates, your smile stretches ear to ear, and your gut churns Monarch butterflies. I become myopic and all I see are the results displayed in a holy, blue cross. “Amor, I am pregnant,” Andrea exclaims on September 10, 2009. For the first time in my life, time suspended. Nothing makes sense, but yet oddly enough, I seem to align with an estranged higher self. “I am going to be a dad? I am going to be responsible for another human being?” I repeatedly question myself. A few days after the blissful high, my dreams of fatherhood are suddenly yanked from underneath me. On September 15, 2009, Andrea’s OBGYN delivers the darkest news of my life. “You are having a miscarriage,” as a pool of blood forms at the bottom of the examining table. “You need to go home, rest, and let the process occur naturally. If it makes you feel any better, I have been pregnant seven times and have three beautiful children,” says the OBGYN’s assistant as tears pour down a picture-perfect world Andrea and I have constructed. We walk out of the OBGYN’s office; a blood trail behind us highlights our exit while a crumpled world ahead looms over our future. “Andrea will be a mortuary and our home a grave for Baby A,” I morbidly think as I mindlessly hand over my credit card to pay the $25 copay. Then we were on our way to a radiologist for a sonogram. The results were confirmed, “See the sack? There is supposed to be a fetal pole in there and I do not see one,” says the technician as we stare blankly at the empty circular blob on the screen.
For a few days, thoughts of a miscarriage dominated our world. We waited three long days for the results of a blood test. Since it was so early in the pregnancy, the only sure way to confirm was with a blood test. Despite the bleak results we were initially given, we somehow held onto a glimmer of hope. Blood results were in, Andrea was still pregnant. Contrary to the OBGYN’s early prognosis, on May 23, 2010, God blessed us with a vibrant, rambunctious, and defiant baby girl, Giselle.
Sometime in September 2014, on my lunch hour, a meditation abruptly brought forth a dark past I had locked away in the deepest chasm in my mind. After my meditation, I called Andrea sobbing. Baby A, or Gideon as I later named him, stepped forwarded and made his presence known.
I followed my routine of meditating. I prayed to God, asked for his protection and guidance. I set my intentions to receive any messages from God and His Angels. After five minutes of concentrating on my inhales and exhales, I felt a presence. The presence was new to me. At that time, I had limited exposure to Spirits. After a few minutes of concentrating on the presence, I deduced it was a toddler; a boy. I acknowledged his presence and asked him to step forward. As any other toddler would, Baby A shows off his toys. Suddenly, my mind’s eye is a stage for a Show and Tell. “Wow, you love tyrannosaurus rex uh,” I proclaim as he shoves the dinosaur in my face. I remain grounded and focused on the beautiful moment I am sharing with Baby A. The cacophony of a little boy playing with his dinosaurs is a sweet symphony in my ear. I recall thinking, “Wow, this is the same noise Giselle makes when playing with toys.” After the Show and Tell ends, Baby A jumps on my lap. Yes, you read that correctly, I feel a soul jump on my lap. Innately, I am not frightened. Contrary, I was entranced by this celestial encounter. While Baby A was on my lap and running his hands on my face, an immense sense of love overcomes me. It was not a Cupid-flung arrow kind of love. It was that immense love when a father holds his child for the first time. “Wait, I know you,” I whisper as he showers me with Eskimo kisses. My brain finally syncs to my heart. “Yes, Giselle was to be born alone. One of us had to go. It was her time,” Baby A tells me. A tear runs down my face. I feel a soft, tender kiss as he wraps his hands around me. “I do not want this moment to end. Please suspend time,” I beg God. “It’s Giselle’s turn to be here. I am watching after Giselle and Gabriel. I love you and mommy so much. Please give mommy a big kiss for me,” as Baby A continues. “What is my name? I would love to have a name. What is my name, Daddy?” I reply, “Gideon Aguilar; Gideon, after God’s brave solider.” A barrage of stars, confetti, balloons, hearts, and firecrackers flood my mind’s eye. I felt and saw his excitement after I named him. “Thank you, Daddy. I love it. Please tell mommy, Giselle, and Gabriel about me. I love my family so much. Can I get a Christmas stocking too?” My composure is a covered pan of boiling water. I say, “Of course Gideon. I love you so much.” He gives me a gentle hug and interlaces our fingers together. Unfortunately for me, time is up. My supplication for time suspension is not answered. Gideon’s presence vanishes.
Gideon is very much part of our family.
Gideon’s visit taught me so much. Souls are part of every pregnancy; even as early as five weeks as it was in our case. Although I am not sure specifically at what time a soul enters a body, I speculate it is even before conception. Souls continue to be part of your family. Growing up, Giselle talked to imaginary friends. When she turned two, she became scared of “bad guys” in her room. In that special visit, Gideon validated that he just wanted to play and apologized for scaring her. The connection between you and soul is very much natural and real. Four years after Andrea’s miscarriage, I instinctively recognized Gideon when he jumped on my lap. An ethereal cord connects us to passed-love ones. Souls love to be named and included as family. In my experience, when I give readings, Spirit validates a miscarriage, the souls make it a point to be named and remembered. For those of you who know my children, you may witness Giselle and Gabriel talking about Gideon and how he is in heaven watching them. Also, you may hear them describe their dreams and visits with Gideon. As for Andrea and me, we pray and talk with him often. Although I may not feel Gideon as I did the first time, he definitely leaves a trail of dinosaurs behind to show us he is present.
3 thoughts on “To my son, Gideon”
I knew Giselle was bright light from the moment I met her. I put myself “out there” when I told you she is an Indigo child and has a great purpose in this life, at this moment. I am happy for you both that Gideon was able to validate the reason he had to return to Spirit, but that he is always aware of and loves each of you. Berardo, were given such a beautiful gift!