Nolan Eason

At 1:03AM on Friday, March 30, 2012 my first child was born - a son. We named him Nolan Eason. 21" long, 5lb 3oz. He was beautiful and perfect in every way, except that he was stillborn. As we searched for answers to his untimely death, we also searched for comfort. This blog was created as a way of working through my sorrow by trying to find something beautiful in the world each day. Hopefully, along the way it will help others to heal as well.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

String Test

My family are believers in all things supernatural and other worldly - God, angels, spirits, ghosts. When I was a child my father worked in an office that was over 100 years old and once was a Pre Civil War farm house in Chantily, VA. Often my Dad would go in being the last to leave the night before and the first to arrive in the morning and the furniture would have been rearranged into a semi circle. Sometimes doors that were closed would be open the next morning, or vise versa. The attic was on the same floor with some of the offices and you could hear rattling in the attic but walk in there and nothing was there. My Dad said he could be sitting at his desk and feel his presence. After my Dad had been working there for some time, the spirit would move things on my Dad's desk and when my Dad asked him to move them back the spirit would respond. My Dad finally decided the spirit was that of a confederate soldier, which would explain the rattling sound when he moved - his equipment moving around on his body. He was a friendly enough spirit and not one that did any harm. He seemed more playful than anything. I was in elementary school when my Dad worked there and every time I came to his office I hoped that I would see or hear the spirit. Regretfully, I never did.

When I was 12 and my Nana passed away, I remember looking up to the sky on the day of her funeral and seeing in the clouds a stairway up into the Heavens. I stared at it for some time fascinated and finally determined it was a stairway for my Nana so that she could make her way to Heaven. Then I turned 14 and my 5 year old cousin Christopher passed away. On the day of his funeral I felt foolish looking up to the Heaven expecting to see a stairway, but alas there it was. Amazed that this happened twice I stared at it making sure I wasn't seeing something that wasn't there. But, indeed clear as day was a staircase in the clouds so that Christopher could make his way up there. It became a ritual for me whenever anyone close to me passed away and every time I saw it. The next staircase was for my Grandfather and the one after that my Aunt Fran. I was somewhat disappointed when at Nolan's memorial service there was no staircase. I thought, well how is he supposed to get to Heaven then? But then I remembered something - Nolan was only a baby, he couldn't walk. A staircase would be of no use to him. On the contrary, that day the clouds were like a thick blanket, one that could easily wrap Nolan in to carry him up to Heaven.

As a believer in angels, ghosts and spirits, I have always tried to be open to feeling their presence in my life. I can say with absolute conviction that I have indeed felt the presence of a spiritual being only once in my life thus far and it was that of my Aunt Fran. It had been weeks after her passing and I was walking from my bedroom to my bathroom when I felt it. Right in the middle of the door jam as though I had just passed through it. It was the most bizarre feeling and it stopped me dead in my tracks. Out of the corner of my I caught a glimpse of an orb. I blinked as it was hazy looking - the hazy clouds you can sometimes see if your eyes are dry or overly wet. I blinked again to clear my eyes, but it was still there. Then in a split second it disappeared. It was the most amazing yet bizarre experience that I had ever had. I never told anyone about it. At the time I felt like if I told someone it would taint the experience or make it seem less real. So I kept the experience to myself.

My strong belief in the supernatural and other worldly is not limited to ghost, spirits and angels. In fact, I am one of those people that believes there is some merit in some, but not all, wives tales. I'm a skeptic at first, like most, but after I see them work over and over again I quickly become a believer. One such wives tale is the string test. I was first introduced to the string test when I was a young girl as my family loved to perform it on any pregnant woman in the family - and it was always right! When I was 12, I had my first string test done on me. By then my family had realized that it worked even if you weren't pregnant. It would show you one by one all the children you were to have. On my mother it showed only one - a girl. On my aunt, three boys. Ever since I was 12 it has always showed the same thing - 2 kids; a boy and then a girl. Just to be safe when I was pregnant with Nolan my mom did the string test once again with the same result - a boy then a girl. Of course, it did indeed appear to be correct as Nolan was a boy. After the string test proved to be right on me, Marshall too became a believer in what my Mom likes to call our hoodoo.

Ever since Nolan's passing I have been wishing that I didn't believe so much in silly things like old wives tales and in particular the string test. I hate the idea that we might never have another son, that Nolan was Marshall's only chance at a little mini me he could dress like him and take surfing and that Nolan was my only chance at having a momma's boy. For once in my life I tried to not believe in the supernatural because the string test simply could not be correct. I need to have another son. So today against my best judgement I decided to do the string test again on myself. I wanted to do it alone so I could be disappointed in the results without anyone around to judge me. So I got out my needle and my string and my pencil (even though my Mom claims you don't need the pencil). It took me some time to steady my hand before I could hold it in the air. I watched with bated breath as the pencil began to swing up and down the length of my arm. Yep, a boy. Nolan. I held my breath as the pencil came to a stop. I knew what it would do next. The same thing it has done for 20 years. Swing back and forth across my arm signifying a girl. Slowly the pencil began to move again and to my surprise it was repeating its previous swing - up and down my arm. Another boy!? That can't be right. I hopefully watched it as it swung strong and true and then stopped. It only swung one more time. Back and forth across my arm. There's my girl. I was truly shocked by the results. That can't be. How is it that now it is going to change it's plan for me. I waited some time and I performed the string test again. This time I used the other arm for added insurance. Sure enough it showed 3 children now where there was previously 2 - boy, boy, girl. What is perhaps even more bizarre is that now the first boy is a very small swing whereas the second one swings fierce and true as does the girl swing.

Call me crazy. Call it hoodoo or voodoo or just plain ludicrous. Call it what you will, but for a mother who has just lost her son it gives me hope. Hope that not only will we be blessed with another chance at having children, but hope that we might one day have another son. Personally, I would love a boy or a girl as long as the baby was healthy and we were blessed with the opportunity to raise him or her. But having the hope that Nolan wasn't our only chance at having a son to raise and watch grow into a man is necessary to help us push through the pain of losing him. Maybe the string test will prove to be wrong, maybe not. It doesn't matter though. For the time being it gives us both the hope we need to move forward and try again.

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1 comment:

  1. Hope is a beautiful feeling & no matter what gives us that hope, it isn't ludicrous, silly, or any of that...it is the one thing that does make some of us step out of bed in the morning. And, to not have hope would be a sad, lonely world.

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