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Donna Jean Burke

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The Awakening
By Donna Jean Burke
Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Rated "G" by the Author.

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· The Rose Garden
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True story that can only be described as a little miracle!


The dream is vivid from its very beginning.  A woven basket, adorned with the pastel colors of its ribbons and bows, is ascending into the sky.  It is by the hands of three Cherub angels, luminous and white, that the basket is being lifted into the clouds.  A baby cries from within, and I instinctively know it is my infant daughter, Kara, who lies and cries from within the bed of the basket.  They are taking her to heaven, taking her away from me, forever in this lifetime.  I stand with extended arms, desperately reaching as high as my limbs will go.

My dream takes on a surreal quality as my body, trapped in slumber, begins to feel the physical effects of my nightmare.  I can literally feel a straining of the muscles in my outstretched arms.  I'm screaming, 'No! No, don't take her PLEASE" and the hysteria of my voice is felt scratching and burning in my throat.  I begin to sob, and the tears feel real, stinging and wet on my face.  From somewhere comes a firm instruction, "You must reach her before she reaches the clouds!"

I awake then, sitting up abruptly, my daughter's cries falling away.  In those first moments of haze between sleep and waking, I sit still, trying to decipher if those last cries were from my dream, or is she awake and crying from her crib in the next room.  I wait and listen, but all remains quiet.  My husband lays beside me, undisturbed in his sleep.  It was all a horrible nightmare, I tell myself.  I should feel relieved, but I begin to feel something else:  Unmistakable intuition and a growing sense of dread form a knot within my chest.  And I know I cannot question this.  Then, my mind's voice, "Go into her room NOW!"

I rise and walk to my daughter's room.  The door is closed and I place my hand on the knob.  It is at that moment I hear the first of the sounds coming from within, a low, muffled croak.  I rush in to her and as I reach the crib, I suddenly understand.  My three-month old baby is suffocating, gasping for air.  Lying on her side, her face is covered by a small cloth diaper.  Her own little hand is clenched firmly over it, obstructing her breath.

I pry away her tiny fingers and hand, hastily pull away the cloth from her face.  My girl inhales deeply, and then exhales with a sigh.  She begins to breathe normally, rthymically, and does not wake from her sleep.  She looks peaceful, beautiful, my own little angel of this earth.

The magnitude of what has just happened overwhelms me. My legs suddenly feel weak and unstable, and I sit myself down on a bed that is beside Kara's crib.  I feel a loss of control as my entire body begins to visibly shake and tremble.  But what I remember the most is the deepening sensation in my chest.  At that moment, boundless gratitude and love feel tangible, filling up my heart to a bursting point.  The awesome pressure is slightly released through my oncoming tears.  I can barely speak, and my words come out in a small utterance with a quiver in them.  "Oh. My. God.  Thank you for helping me save my child".

A Miracle.  Awesome, Extraordinary....A miracle for Kara, A miracle for me.



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