Thursday, May 10, 2012

Peyton Pays Me A Visit

I've written here before about my mom's friend who claims to get random messages from people who have passed on. 

Are you feeling skeptical yet? I don't blame you.

I got the most beautiful message a few weeks (a month, maybe?) back from Peyton that I tweeted about and have been wanting to write to you all about, but life, and Provera, and so-many-diapers  and molars coming in have just kept me from doing it. 

Here are some things to keep in mind about this message.

1- I never talk to this friend of my mother's unless she is telling me she got a message, and usually she just gives the message to my mom to give to me. I say this to clarify that this woman is not around enough to know what I am up to. We aren't friends on FB or anything like that.

2-My parents have pretty much been travelling non-stop since Christmas, so it's not like my mother is around to see what I am doing, and then feed info back to this friend to turn into a message from Peyton.

3-The song I mention below is something that ONLY my husband and I know about. I sing it while breastfeeding at night.

4-I truly believe that if we open our hearts to messages and signs from our little ones who have passed on (or any loved one who has passed on, really) they will come.

Okay, here it goes.

So it is really important to me to incorporate Peyton into the Snowflakes' everyday lives. I am not going to go into this at all, because I wrote a column about it for Still Standing which comes out 5/21 and I wouldn't want to be repeating information, but saying that I incorporate her into their daily lives is rather relevant to this particular sign.

Each night I sing the babies a lullabye to the tune of  Frère Jacques  (Where is Thumbkin) where I go through all of the people in our lives. It goes something like this:
Mommy loves you. Daddy loves you. Yes it's true. You love us, too. Time to go to bed now. Time to go to sleep now. This day's through. This day's through.
Then I sing...
Big Sissy in Heaven loves you. Big Sissy in Heaven loves you. Yes she do. We love and miss Peyton, too. Time to go to bed now. Time to go to sleep now. This day's through. This day's through.
And on and on through our entire list of family, friends, and the last verse is reserved for Jesus.

Okay. So my mother's friend called and left me a message. I didn't get the message. She called my mother and said, 'I've been trying to get in contact with Krissy, I have a message from Peyton.' My mom, during one of her brief trips back home among all the recent travelling, was like, 'You know, Fran says she left you a message blah, blah, blah."

I didn't get it. Thanks AT&T.

So this falls off my radar, NOT because I didn't want to hear from Peyton, but because life sometimes really gets in the way of me being able to call anyone without so much noise in the background that I can't hear. Plus the Snowflakes, and Bubba especially, are really clingy right now, wanting to be held all.the.time, so holding two babies and a phone doesn't work, and trying to talk on speaker with two babies who don't want me on the phone and let me know at ten thousand decibels, also doesn't work.

So... I put the babies for a nap one day and I got a call from Fran who said she had had two messages from Peyton, but so much time had passed that she lost the first one, and hadn't my mother told me to call her etc. etc.

She gave me the message she could remember. She said that Peyton said this:
such a beautiful day, and it is a day that would go down in infancy (fancy was circled) babies are so beautiful are we knot and tied together forever in love
Okay, what? Peyton, Mommy is so frazzled and tired and gets no sleep, baby, you are going to have to be a bit more clear.

So I told Fran that that was sweet, but I really didn't know what the heck it meant and I appreciated it and would think on it and thank you very much. She said she wished she could remember her other message and I thought, if it is anything like that one no worries on forgetting it, and we hung up the phone. I then proceeded to do things around the house and was struck by the fact that Fran said she had called and left me two voicemails and why the hell wasn't I getting my voicemails, anyway? So I picked up the phone to check, and usually if we have messages the dial tone beeps, but there was no beep. I realized in that moment that I hadn't gotten any voicemails in, like, WEEKS! Which is fine, most people probably don't want to call and try to talk over babies, but no messages at all? That felt odd. So I dialed into my voicemail and lo-and-behold I had SIXTEEN messages!

I started listening to them, and then came to Fran's message and immediately felt my body go numb--wait, not numb, tingly? Yeah, I guess tingly is a better way to describe it. I listened to what she said she had been told by Peyton, immediately called her back, and started to cry.

This is the message Fran had left for me that day, some weeks before I heard it. A message that she couldn't recall at all later, and would have been completely lost if I hadn't realized to call into my voicemail regardless of the non beeping dial tone.

She said that Peyton told her this:
Sweet, sweet music drifts to my ears. I love to listen and still be a part of, instead of being apart. Always with you in love and peace, heart. 
Like I said earlier. Every night, every single night, we sing that song about the people we love. Every night we sing a verse for Peyton specifically to keep her a part of our daily lives. I still have chills just thinking about this message.

Thank you baby girl, for putting your love into words that your over-tired Momma can understand.

And here is another sign for you--even though it has been raining all morning, as I type this, butterflies are playing outside my window.


  1. Wow. That is so beautiful. I truly believe that once you open yourself up to receiving the messages, they are there. Strong, beautiful and sincere. Peyton is such an amazing little spirit.

  2. Wow!! Thank you for sharing!

  3. WOW. It really makes me believe that if we tune in, we can "hear" their voices. I am so, so, so glad that you were able to get the message.

  4. I am constantly amazed that recieving messages from our passed loved ones isn't an accepted fact of life that everyone owns up to. To discredit the possibility that people speak to us from the beyond is almost like saying that we're the only life in the universe. I wrote to another BLM about this when she wrote on kind of the same thing. Think about it; your sweet baby was created by you and lived in you. She was exactly one half of you - exactly half of the chromosomes in her body were exact replicas of the chromosomes in your body. You knew her before she was even born. I bet that the whole preganancy you wondered what she would look like, but the minute you saw her, you thought, "Oh, of course - that is exactly what she should look like." Scientists have proven that often when a person loses a limb, that person will continue to feel that limb is still there; even a toe for god's sake. So, if the body can still feel that teeny pinky toe - how much more could a woman feel her child (the greatest part of her she has loved without compare) who is no longer here. (I promise I'm not comparing your precious girl to a pinky toe!) Religion/Society wants us to accept that Jesus (a man who lived thousands of years ago that we have never met)talks to us all the time and guides us and loves us and so on and so on. So, why in sam hell could our loved ones not also get in on the conversation? I believe your darling girl is around you all the time and speaks to you all the time; it's probably the fact that she is also speaking to someone else that is so crazy. My late grandma visits me all the time in my dreams and although I wish sometimes she would tell me what the winning lottery numbers are going to be that next week, mainly we just visit and hang out. So, like I told the other BLM, what's the worst someone could say to you? 'Oh, there's the crazy lady who thinks people from heaven are sending her messages through an old woman.' Well, those people are called assholes. And who cares what an asshole thinks anyways.

  5. Thank you for sharing this. I have you on tweeter. I think your story is amazing. I lost my daughter in sept at 24 weeks. Everyday I miss her so much. I would do anything to get a message from her or if i could just hold her again. The pain just never goes away. I feel so empty without my child. I am mother, but no one can see my child. It hurts. Thank you for sharing.

  6. That is so special and precious.

  7. It's beautiful that she visits and, that there is a way that she can let you know. I have often felt my little boy's presence throughout the years. His brother could see him when he was little. Children see and, know so many things until they are taught that they shouldn't. He was almost 5 the first time he told me. "Mommy, your little boy visits here sometimes." I'll never forget that moment, cause up until that point I had never told him about his brother. I found out about my pregnancy when I was 14 weeks along and, had a totally chaotic week where I was preparing to leave the father, as he demanded an abortion, so I was gonna tell Alex when things had calmed down, but I never got the chance. The membranes of the amniotic sac ruptured a week later. I was in the hospital for 4 weeks, but I chose not to tell Alex why, since I knew that my baby probably wouldn't make it. I still don't know if that was right or wrong, but i wanted to protect him. He so wanted a little brother and, it wasn't fair that he should find out, only to lose him. A 3-year-old shouldn't have to deal with that if it can be avoided.