Adahlia was blessed once by an eagle when she was in utero.  A bald eagle.

We were at the Portland Saturday Market to buy Christmas presents for our families, and I was just shy of 8 weeks.  We had just moved into a beautiful house together after carefully considering both our incomes and our post-partum plan.  We were about to spend a lot of money on gifts and shipping fees, and we weren’t concerned.  It wasn’t because we were very well-off (I was in my fourth year of graduate school, after all), but because we were full of love and possibility and our future unfolding.  Joe had run back to the car to get something, and I told him to meet me at the river.  I have always been drawn to water.

We were at the market fairly early, and it was not yet crowded.  There are several large trees near the river, near the fountain and food vendors, and folks were pointing at the closest one.  A bald eagle sat near the top, calmly surveying the people gasping and the seagulls screeching at it.  I smiled and felt my heart expand with wonder and joy.  I felt so grateful to live in this amazing city, where miracles like this could happen on a crisp, December Saturday.

Suddenly, the eagle lifted off from the tree.  He did not immediately climb into the sky.  He flew towards me and stopped directly in front of and above me, perhaps only 10 feet above me, and hovered, flapping his wings to stay in place.  I stood unafraid and transfixed.  Seconds passed.  Then, he lifted off higher into the sky, and flew downstream.

Now, Adahlia is 18 months old.  There is a lot going on with her health and mine, and so much is uncertain.  These are trying, difficult times, and sometimes I falter.  It is amazing how fast our lives have changed trajectory, and occasionally, my heart fills with a deep, stubborn, sadness.

This past Friday was one of those days.  Adahlia’s progress is slow and I am impatient.  I have to remind myself of the recent progress:  she no longer pulls at and points at the base of her throat, as if she is experiencing acid reflux or a discomfort at her thyroid.  Her digestion has completely improved – she now actually eats food, instead of just picking and tasting it.  Her appetite is suddenly ravenous.  We feed her all day, all different sorts of food.  Less than a month ago, at Christmas, I was very concerned about her lack of consumption.  She was 17 months old and still very dependent on breastmilk.  Perhaps 70% of her nutrition was my milk.  Not normal.  Not good.  But here she is now, eating all sorts of food, from little snack packs of baby food to soups to raspberries to bread with peanut butter to eggs to turkey to eggs to oatmeal and you name it — she eats!

I attribute it to the spagyrics that I’ve been doing to help her digestion, in addition to the ones to clear toxicity (including heavy metals) from liver, lymph, kidneys, and thyroid.

Yet, her blood is clearly an issue.  She looks like she’s 3 or 4 weeks post-transfusion and its not even been two.  She’s been taking exjade to clear out the iron overload from her bloodstream and I hope its working, because I will not be surprised if we are back in the hospital for another transfusion soon.

I am not entirely surprised.  When someone is as sick at a deep level as Adahlia, and one’s life is in such delicate condition, restoring health is a balancing act.  Things must be cleared but not too swiftly, or there could be too much stress on the system.  Things must be tonified but not too generously, or the wrong sorts of bacteria and the pathogenic processes could be strengthened, too.  I realize what is going on and luckily, we have the transfusions to allow us the time we need to  play with these processes, and coax her body into health.  Therefore, with her digestion improved, I have suspended the homeopathic spagyrics and have reintroduced the chinese medicine, which has done the best of job so far of lengthening and stabilizing the time between transfusions.  Soon, I will reintroduce the homeopathics, so as to keep up the process of removing heavy metals and detoxing her organs, which is important, especially with her taking Exjade.  I want that medicine to do its job and then get out of her system, thank you very much!

You can see that this is quite the unique process. There is no precedent for successfully treating and resolving this disease, which often complicates over time and results in the development of diabetes, hormonal imbalances leading to growth and puberty problems, cancer, and a host of other diseases, all before the age of 20.  This is her best chance at a healthy life and happy future.

With all this going on, the last thing we need is for me to go out of commission.  Yet, my health is changing too.  On Wednesday, the stent and second attempt at stabilizing my kidney was removed.  Things since then have been touch-and-go.  We’re doing what we can from the natural/oriental medicine perspective and I’ve added a few things I had not thought to do before, to drive energy downward, open channels, and reduce inflammation.  I’m not exactly sure what my status is, if the water is building back up within my kidney, and if I will need the surgery I’ve been hoping to avoid.  All I know for sure is that I need to be able to take care of Adahlia.  So, I focus on the daily things and on what I can effect.  Like, dinner.

On this past Friday morning, I took Adahlia to see her second children’s performer of the week at Cafe Au Play.  I hadn’t really intended on it — we had gone to see Red Yarn on Tuesday and I had left her waterproof pants there by accident.  When we went to retrieve them, Tallulah’s Daddy was just about to start his set, so we stayed to enjoy it.   Then, Friday afternoon, we headed to the park.  And this is where the second raptor blessing occurred.

At this point, as I mentioned, I was feeling kind of low.  I was concerned for Adahlia, and wasn’t sure about my own health and what that meant for our family.  There was this sad energy that needed to come out, and the playground was empty.  We sat together on one end of the four-person see-saw, Adahlia in front of me so I could steady her if she lost her balance.  As we bounced in rhythm, I began to sing softly, and it was kind of like a chant, kind of like humming.   At the risk of offending the native people, it sounded similar to a native american song or chant.  I sang whatever notes came.  I played with verses and kept returning to the same refrain.  I felt better as I sang, and Adahlia seemed to enjoy it.  She bounced and pointed out birds to me and I kissed her head.

Eventually, I became aware that three crows were circling, cawing, and dive-bombing a red-tailed hawk that was doing slow circles to our immediate north.  Adahlia and I watched them and I continued to sing.  And then I couldn’t help myself, I thought:

If those crows fly away and leave that hawk alone, then we’re going to get better, everything is going according to plan, and I just need to keep at it.  We will be fine.

Immediately, I cursed myself for thinking such a thing.  After all, if they chased him away, was I going to take it as a sign that I was headed down the wrong path?  That I was simply, stupidly, endangering myself and Adahlia?  Why do I put myself in these positions?!?

But then, two of the three crows flew off.  The third continued to pester the hawk, driving it even closer to us, and then it too flew away, leaving only the hawk.  Riding the wind, the hawk came closer still, until it was directly overhead.  My head craned back fully to look at it, I could see that its head was turned down and it was looking at us.  Beautiful.

If he circles us three times in blessing, then I should relax.  We are indeed on the right path. 

Dammit, Erika!  I thought.  But I couldn’t help it.  It was almost as if the thought was placed there for me.  That I was simply listening.

And the hawk began to circle us.  One, two, three times.  And then it adjusted its wings and rode the wind east.

The next day, I received a random message from a friend I haven’t seen in years, telling me that that very night, Saturday night, there was a fire circle with Eliot Cowan, herbalist and healer of native american tradition, and author of Plant Spirit Medicine.  She said we should go.  Moreover, the fire sacred circle was being held literally a few houses down from ours.

I cannot deny such kismet and decided to go, but life got busy and I forgot all about it.  That night, building our own fire in our living room, I heard a sound like a chime and “recalled” the fire circle.  Disappointed and assuming we had missed it, I went to the kitchen to check the time.  The clock said 6:50 pm.   So, I packed Adahlia up and we went.  (I don’t know where the chime sound came from.)

I had never been to a sacred fire circle before, and it was lovely.  There was another little girl there, perhaps 7 or 8 years old.  I knew no one there (my friend could not go herself) and everyone was very gentle, very relaxed, and very kind.  There was also a dog and a cat, which made Adahlia very happy!  We gave thanks and made offerings to the fire for Adahlia’s healing and shared jokes with the community.  We had to leave before the meat of Eliot’s talk, due to it getting late, but it was a special time.  We both enjoyed it.  I’m not sure why we were called to go to it, but I’m glad we did.

This past week, I’d been doing some work with cultivating the sacred fire that is known as the Life Gate in Chinese medicine, or Ming Men.  My own sacred fire had been weakened in me prior to pregnancy, and the pulse for it, my right kidney pulse, had completely died out during my third trimester with Adahlia.  The area for it on Adahlia’s back is dark and empty, almost black.  This past week, my focus has been trying different ways to rekindle my own Source Fire energies in order to keep my kidney from collapsing under water, to open Adahlia’s Life Gate and stoke and ignite Adahlia’s own flame of existence.  Perhaps, then, this is the explanation.  Perhaps it is a sign that I have been heard.

Well, it certainly is late again.  There are still many things I could say about Adahlia and how she’s doing — little cute things she does, stories of how wonderful she is and how much I love her — but I’ll have to save them for later.  There is more work to do.  And it is time to rest.

Thank you for your continued prayers, blessings, energy, love, and support.

Love and light to you and yours.