This is the story of a soul's persistent efforts to join his family. Taylor, who was born prematurely and died along with a smaller twin, communicated with his grandmother from that realm that is after death. . . before birth.
Full Circle: Taylor's Story
by Sheila M. Berry
I remember the phone call from my oldest daughter, Meg, as clearly as if I had received it this morning, though in fact several years have passed. "You have to read We Don't Die," she said. "You'll have to buy your own copy because I won't part with mine," she added, "but you have to read it." Over the years Meg had expressed enjoying some books more than others, and occasionally recommended those she thought I would like. But this was different; there was an urgency in Meg's voice that I couldn't ignore. I bought the book the same day, and once I began reading, I couldn't put it down.
Written by Joel Martin and Patricia Romanowski and originally published in 1988, We Don't Die is the story of George Anderson, a psychic who communicates with the spirits of those who have died and are "on the other side." This communication occurs when George discerns the spirits who come to him during readings, which is why he refers to it as discernment. The spirits set the agenda, including who will come and how long they will stay. George has the distinction of being the "most tested" psychic today, which convinces the skeptical and opens them to the messages of love and hope he conveys. What kept me turning pages, however, was the experience of discernment that George described, because it validated experiences I had had myself.
The wheel came full circle in November of 1995 at a conference in Virginia Beach, Virginia sponsored by the Association for Research and Enlightenment (ARE), which in turn was founded by Edgar Cayce, perhaps the best known American psychic. George Anderson was a featured speaker, offering a group discernment before three hundred people. Much to my surprise, my father came through -- with my brother. I said, "My brothers are very much alive in Wisconsin," and George responded, "Did your mother have a miscarriage?" Indeed she did, when I was eight years old.
I remember how much she wanted that child. She was bedridden for a long time, and I used to fix breakfast for her because she wasn't allowed to be on her feet. She was about five months along when she miscarried in spite of her efforts. I never thought about that miscarried fetus as a brother or sister; in fact, I actively denied him. That was how I dealt with the loss -- an approach I had taken again in October of 1994 when my own twin grandsons were born and died, also at about five months gestation.
The smaller of the two boys born to my daughter-in-law had only half a heart and could not survive. Moreover, the twins were in a single amniotic sac, an extremely rare occurrence. Because of the single sac, attempts to take the smaller twin resulted in the loss of both babies. Again, in order to cope with the grief I felt, I had denied that they were "real" persons.
Now, a year later, my brother's communication through George Anderson somehow opened me to feel and hear the twin boys. During group meditation the next day, I suddenly felt my grandsons' presence -- a lively, bubbling presence. They stayed with me through the end of the conference, and I kept "hearing" them say, "We have to get our mom a birthday gift."
After the conference concluded, my husband and I stopped at the ARE Visitor Center and went into the book store. I said nothing to my husband, but let the twins guide me in finding a gift for their mother. Angel wind chimes? No. A poster? No, not quite right. A tape or CD? No. Then my husband approached, holding out a book he had found: Our Children Forever, messages to parents from their children, discerned by George Anderson. Yes! And they were clear about the inscription, too: "To our Mom, from your boys. Happy birthday. We love you."
One Twin Steps Back
Initially, I would feel the presence of both twins, but that gradually changed over the next year. It was as if the smaller twin (I call him "Little Joe") stepped to the background; he had accomplished what he set out to do in that brief expression of spirit in flesh, and was content where he was. The larger twin, Taylor, began to "come around" by himself. I would feel him around me from time to time in much the same way I had at the ARE conference. How do I know that same soul was the larger twin? He tapped on my soul and whispered in my ear. I felt him and his brother so clearly when we went shopping for his mother's birthday gift that I could recognize his feel anywhere.
I learned in 1995 that my daughter-in-law was again pregnant. But about three months into that pregnancy, when I once again felt the larger twin's presence, there was a strong sense of sadness around him. I knew something was wrong and called my daughter-in-law. She confirmed what I had just learned, that the fetus she carried was too deformed to survive. "Try again," I told her, prodded by the soul who wanted to be her child. "You'll have a healthy baby the next time."
In March of 1997, I suddenly felt Taylor's presence again. This time it was bubbly and vital, playful and almost teasing. I called my daughter-in-law -- "Are you pregnant" I asked, and she said she thought so, but no one knew yet, not even my son. But her son knew. He came around to visit me less and less as the pregnancy progressed and he fitted himself to his new life. He sent a photo, though, to let us know he was coming along just fine. A sonogram image of him at six months shows his face perfectly -- and he's smiling! On October 13, 1997, exactly three years after his first try, Taylor Shea Sitterson was born to the parents he was determined to have.
I might never have recognized the communications from my grandsons if my brother hadn't come through George Anderson to awaken me to them. But that's what uncles do -- run interference for the little ones, both in and out of this dimension. I'm so pleased Taylor finally made it to the place and people he intended; it's such a satisfying feeling to hold him.
Sheila M. Berry is a writer, numerologer, paralegal, mother and grandmother. She says, "I'm trailed by angels, so I'm told, and feel their influence in all aspects of my life." More of her writings can be found at her website, SpiritLink.
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