This post might be long so bear with me or keep swiping down. Your choice.
I hope you have never been at your rock bottom or if you have been, I hope you came up to the light again as we, who have been there, know how dark that rock bottom is. For me that rock bottom was the summer of 2016, rapidly approaching one year anniversary of Bianka’s death. I mean I kept my self so busy after her death creating art projects crafted with my bare hands out of the chicken wire in her honor, running marathon in her honor, starting a brain tumor research fund and raising money in her honor, finishing her room makeover in her honor, returning to work only month after her death, raising awareness about childhood cancer and keeping up her Facebook page, knowing well enough that I could not keep up at that pace, filling up my minutes and seconds with things to do so I would have no time to think, no time to feel the pain, even though pain found its way to me.
That year I coughed for four months straight, until I finally went to my Chinese doctor who told me that in Chinese medicine, grief is held in the lungs, gave me some Chinese herbs and dried up my mucus until I stopped coughing enabling me to successfully finish my marathon in April of 2016, starting my slow but sure decline into depression or post traumatic stress or what ever you want to call it, culminating into uncontrollable outbursts of anger in public that summer and making me consider the medication, just to take the edge off.
I did not want the medication. I really did not. But my doctor who I trust completely was strongly suggesting it and I would have taken them if something did not happen that saved me. Here is how the story begins:
That summer, my dear Kalie Bella, who was four at the time started praying every night for a baby brother, which made me start thinking about having another child- yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, endlessly. I could not have made up my mind to save my life. The agony, the fear, the hope, the joy of a new baby…Klaudio is not a chatty type so I was left on my own to look at all angles and discuss in my head with myself what I wanted, what would be the right thing to do and I decided to ask Bianka to give me a sign. I prayed every night for three months until one day…
Kalie and I were at our chiropractor’s office on September 12th, 2016 when we met a couple with a daughter Kalie’s age who started playing together in the lobby. They asked for my number to do some play dates, but what intrigued me was that mom was pregnant so I asked her when she was due. She said: today, and we talked about where she would have the baby, I wished her good luck and went home thinking nothing of it. When I checked my phone at home the picture of Bianka and me from 2013 showed up in front of her text (see below)! I remembered that day so clearly- I took Bianka for an ice cream on a special date while Kalie was home with Klaudio and I asked this random lady who was there to take a picture of us as I left my phone at home.
So I texted her that photo and explained that we lost Bianka to cancer. Well, her daughter was born the very next day, on September 13th, at 13:13 (military time), and that is exactly the same date when Bianka and I met with her, September 13th, 2013. I started bawling when I realized that the dates were the same because I felt like Bianka answered my prayers and communicated with me. I know this might sound crazy, but what are the odds I would meet the same woman with Bianka on September 13th, 2013 and that her daughter would be born on September 13th, 2016 at 13:13 almost to an hour exactly three years later? Since I am very into numbers and believe in signs like this I just knew that meeting her exactly three years before was my sign that I would have three children like I always instinctively felt I would.
What is strange is that the story of numbers continues. When we met in 2013, it was Friday the 13th, her little girl turned 13 months on Friday the 13th and will turn 3 in 2019 on Friday the 13th. Luka will turn 13 months 3 days after September 13th this year…
My husband does not understand my strange obsession with these numbers and occurrences and thinks it is really weird that I find these numbers and dates so significant as they relate to complete strangers who are not our friends, but what he does not realize is that this event saved me, it truly was my turning point from the depths of my despair making me decide to go for another child who not only brought so much joy and healing to our little family but made me believe that somehow, somewhere Bianka can hear me and send me signs, be it in the form of people and dates or numbers, I do not care, but it made me hold onto something, a hope, a light, a possibility of another dimension, or something else even crazier. Would that be so hard to support? I do not think so. But we are all different. We all work on different brain wave lengths and perceive reality subjectively.
I am proud to say that I will always celebrate Friday the 13th and September the 13th and all the 13 13s I can get and you bet I have number 13 framed in my dining room where I can see it every day when I am eating my breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Would love to hear your numbers story if you have any like this because, yes, I am obsessed.