In the clutches of ugly grief, beautiful things can begin to happen.

It's up to us, whether we ever let those beautiful things happen.

K B Mallion

Once I had accepted what was happening, a lightness quickly began to enter, my shadowed with grief, heart.

Heidi-May was with me.

Maybe she never had left?

To me, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I could feel and hear my baby girl. It seemed the more I listened to her, the stronger her communication became—the distant whispers became closer and clearer, the faint touches became more distinct and determined, the flickering of lights became replaced with electrical gadgets being able to switch themselves off and on at random times—it was all Heidi-May proving to me that she really was there.

Then one night, that first and wonderful night, she actually showed herself to me. I was in her nursery, the nursery I wouldn't let Damian change in any way. I was sat in the rocking chair that I had always wanted to nurse my baby girl in. On that night, I was sat in it, swaying slowly back and forth, feeling a closeness with Heidi-May that I had never felt before. I closed my eyes, because the newborn scent of her soon began to fill my nostrils. I breathed her preciousness in, feeling suddenly so empty and so incomplete without being able to actually hold her. As my tears began to spill over my lower lashes, my head despairingly dropped, and it was then that I felt a small hand resting gently against my cheek. When I looked up, I saw her. Heidi-May was there. She was touching my face, touching it with a longing smile upon her young cherub-like lips. Her hair was prettily blonde, her eyes were an ethereal shade of blue, and she was now a young and lovely toddler. Crying, I scooped her small body into my arms and I held her lovingly close against me. I knew in that moment that nothing or no one would ever make me happier than she could.

My baby had died, I knew that, but in that moment, she was being held tightly in my arms and snuggled upon my maternal lap.

It was real.

My baby was real.

She still is, so very real.

The closer Heidi-May and myself have become, the more distant a husband Damian now is. When I eventually did tell him what was happening, because it really has been happening, he threw it back in my face and said that maybe I should have some more intensive sessions with my Counsellor.

I couldn't believe it.

I still don't want to believe it.

I am the happiest I have ever been, yet my husband thinks I have hit an all-time low. He has began to watch me. Watching my every move. He keeps staring at me with mistrust and sadness clouding his husbandly eyes. And I no longer see love in those chestnut brown eyes of his, I only see disappointment and distress in them.

Damian obviously hasn't experienced all that I have. He didn't birth our lifeless baby girl. He never felt her growing inside of him. So maybe, their connection just isn't as strong? Damian has always been closed off to anything that was other worldly, so for me to tell him that Heidi-May is still with us, deeply disturbs him.

He keeps telling me that I need help. That I've changed. That something is very wrong.

Nothing is wrong. For the first time in over a year, things finally feel right. But yes, I have changed. The normalcy of routine. The mundane normalcy of my life, has had me pulling more and more away from it. I haven't wanted to go to work, because I don't want to leave Heidi-May alone at home. I don't want to see friends and family, because they only look at me in the same way that Damian now does. They all think I am seriously ill. They believe I am mentally not right. But my little girl is beautifully real. If only they could see, hear and feel all that I am. I just don't think they want to. I don't think they can cope with the spiritual truth. The spiritual truth is just too beyond their small and shallow little minds. But I do know the amazing truth. My baby had died. We watched her tiny white casket being buried into the cold October ground, but she is back. She came back to be with me. She came back to be with her mummy.

And I will be her mother.

I am going to be the mother that had once been taken away from me. That isn't going to happen again. It can't ever happen again. I won't let it happen again.

Which brings me to now.

The crystal clear now.

The now that leaves me no other choice.