Thursday, September 21, 2017
It was a typical Thursday morning. Pebs and I had dropped off Amee at school and were headed to the park for our morning jog and play time. We had the radio blasting to our favorite worship songs and were singing and praising Him. It brought such great happiness when I would sing to our Lord and Pebs would “sing” right along with me. All through my pregnancy, I was part of our church’s choir team. I always knew he was going to be my singing companion from the moment he was a baby because when I would sing him lullabies, he would move his little lips and just be mesmorized at the sound of the music. Anyone that knows me knows I do not have a good singing voice, but I love to sing and am not ashamed to sing out loud. Singing, to me, regardless of how I sound, brings such pleasure to my soul. Whether I would be cooking, cleaning, bathing, feeding babies, or driving, we would often listen to our worship music and sing for Him. It took me a while to listen to worship music in the car after the tragedy, and even longer to start singing again. My fondest memories of my Pebs was of him singing. So, this particular day, our usual routine of praising and worshiping the Lord was on full throttle. When we finished a song, he’d clap his hands and yell, “Yay! Mas?” and the next one would come on and we’d start singing, clapping, raising our hands, and praising all while we were on our way to the park.
I had joined an exercise group that previous Tuesday and was given the rest of the week to try it out. I knew that I would love it but wasn’t sure if I would want to make the financial commitment. I unloaded the baby’s stroller, his sippy cup, his snacks, toys, and my water and towel. We were on our way to get fit. Pebs allowed mommy to get her workout on, very patiently I might add, but was ready after almost an hour to go to the playground. Sweaty, exhausted, and thrilled I had completed the class, Pebs and I walked over to the playing area. I had taken Pebs to this particular playground since he could barely walk. We made many memories there, and needless to say, I haven’t returned there since September 21, 2017. I miss it. It was such a happy, cheerful place that I shared with him. I pray I can go back one day and make more memories.
On this particular day, it was full of little kids, all excited about the green slides, blue bridges, yellow steering wheels, brown steps, and colorful see-saws with adoring animal figures. Pebble loved it. His smile and laughter completed me. I would be exhausted from my run or workout, but his smile would give me the energy I lacked to play with him. I would go down the slide with him, run after him while he crossed the bridge, tickle him as he climbed the steps, hold him as he went across the monkey bars, and sit across his beautiful face as we went up and down the see-saw. We had just ran across the bridge and were playing by the steering wheel. I was recited the colors he was touching because I never let a good learning opportunity pass me by, and I remember that this cloud of sadness just washed over me all of a sudden. I was staring at him, still playing with the steering wheel, making the vroom, vroom noise, and I recall thinking, “Oh daddy’s, I’m not going to have these moments with you much longer. You are going to leave mama, and all I want is to hold you close forever.” In my mind, I was thinking that he would leave me by growing up and starting school. I began to feel melancholy and tears welled up in my eyes, but just as quick as the sadness loomed in, I forcefully shoved the gloomy feelings out. I made myself snap out of it and continued to enjoy that moment with him.
I know that moment was real. I don’t know if it was a premonition of what was to come, if it was a way of preparing my heart, or just motherly instinct, but looking back at that moment, I know it wasn’t a coincidence. The following night is when I had my dream of him dying in my arms. The following nights, I had all those dreams of death until the day he went to Heaven. I know, I truly believe in my heart, that these thoughts and dreams were not a coincidence or just something that happened. I know I was given these thoughts by Him. He allowed me to feel this for a reason that I may not be able to understand. Maybe I was just meant to share my experience, my story to the world in hopes that someone else has gone through the same and needed to hear this from me. I can’t explain why I had these premonitions, but I don’t think I’m supposed to try to explain them. I believe I’m meant to share them, just like I believe I’m meant to share my Pebs. My premonitions, to me, were special, just like my Pebs. How do I explain such a special little boy? I can’t. All I can try to do, as best as I can, is to share him with the world. I can share all of his stories, our adventures, and our memories with others. I believe that’s what I’m meant to do. The premonitions were a special part of our story. They are a small part of what made him special. He is, was, always will be my special baby boy. Who taught me to seek the moon during all hours of the day, sing at the top of our lungs whenever we wanted, and to never stop. He loved to say, “Go, go, go,” and that’s what mama is doing.