Raising and Losing My Remarkable Teenage Mother

      

By Stacey Aaronson

Raising, and Losing, My Remarkable Teenage Mother tells the extraordinary story of Bree and Stacey, a mother-daughter duo reminiscent of Gilmore Girls. Growing up together in an often role-reversal scenario and mistaken for sisters, Bree would come to say, “I didn’t raise Stacey. Stacey raised me.” As Stacey steps into the role of caregiver, the two face the most poignant leg of their journey: nurturing their deep soul connection even as one soul transitions to another realm.   The following excerpt shares a deeply mystical and life-changing event that occurred on one of Bree’s final days.   *   *   *      Yesterday, my mom was tired and rested a lot, but she was mostly still herself. Today, she already seemed different. I could hear it in her voice and see it in her body language.     “I know,” I said with compassion. “This must just feel surreal to you.”     “It does. And for you too.”      I nodded, trying to keep my emotion in check. “Yeah.”      We looked into each other’s eyes, and I saw fear in her for the first time.     “Are you scared?” I asked.     “I am. I wasn’t before, but now I kinda am.”      “Do you want to talk about it?”      “I just don’t know what to expect. I really don’t want to die.”       I put my hand over hers. “I know. I don’t want you to die either.” I took a deep breath. “Do you feel like this isn’t your time? Like you still want to try something? Because if you do, you have those programs you were going to do. Maybe it’s not too late.”       “I don’t know. Maybe.” . . . How could I not help her if she didn’t believe it was her time? I thought. How could I live with myself if I didn’t do everything I could to turn things around?      In that moment, I wished strongly for one specific thing: to talk to Susan, my dear friend who was a gifted intuitive.      About thirty minutes later, I magically received this text:   Susan: You ok? Me: Oh honey . . . Not really. I wish I could talk to you. Thank you for checking in. Susan: I don’t want to overstep . . . I believe I had a visit from Bree a little over an hour ago so I had to reach out. I’m here for you. xo . . .     I went into the gym on the other side of the house where I could be out of earshot in conversation but still hear my mom if she called me. When Susan picked up, she right away told me that until she’d heard back from me, she thought my mom might have already left her physical body completely, and that was why she texted to see if I was okay.     “Really?” I said. “I can’t imagine the encounter you had that made you think she might have already transitioned.”     “Well, I had decided to stay in bed later than normal this morning, and suddenly, there she was. Even though I’ve only talked to her and have never seen her, I knew it was Bree.”      “You did?”      “Yes. I was aware that [she] hears and gets called back easily, meaning her soul leaves her body for a time but she’s aware of the physical world. Like if you walk in or wake her, she gets pulled back quickly from wherever she is. . . . She said, ‘I’m the same—whole, thoughtful, full faculties—only somewhere different, slightly elevated, on another plane, right across the veil. I think in my own voice. I hear myself without using words. It’s rather cool and expanded. I have to come up with a plan before it’s too long away. I didn’t think it would come to this. I fully expected to be a helper there. Now I realize the possibility of working from an expanded space. So much possibility—only not many can appreciate this perspective. They’re so set on remaining. I must reconfigure.”      “Wow,” I said, struggling to keep up getting it all down on paper. “This sounds like her . . . wanting to be a helper here, but now seeing the possibility of an expanded space to work from.”      “Then she said . . . ‘I want to stay if only I could capture this expansiveness and keep its wisdom on your plane. What joy I can spread knowing what I have here! Now I have to figure out how to use it from another angle. Best to do it now while I’m still partly there.’      “And then she directed these words to you:      ‘I so appreciate your presence. You feel the life-force rising and falling through my hand. You witness the coming and going through my flesh. It is real. I hover here able to distinguish the levels. It really happens. I am separating from the flesh yet nothing has changed. The ability to communicate remains. It is the human level that does not know that yet. Some do, and wonder what it is.’ . . .      “And then she said, ‘Tell Stacey that I’m reconfiguring—same life to live but now to plan B or maybe C. I’m working it out. It’s going to be grand, just you wait and see.’”      I took in a breath and felt a rush of hope fill my insides, as if her moving on to the next soul chapter was right and that she was getting ready for it with some degree of awe and excitement.      “Last,” Susan added, “she said this directly to you:      ‘I’m sorry to leave but it’s not in vain. We did good, you and me. What a team in such an unconventional way. Thank you for being my girl. I love you beyond.’”      My eyes welled in a rush and I brought my hand to my heart. . . .      The idea that my mom didn’t like what was happening to her, but that she was seeing where she could “work from” in a higher realm and spread joy there made my heart swell. She would love that idea, I knew. She had such aspirations of being a beacon of light for people on Earth with her healing story, and if that wasn’t going to happen the way she envisioned, then knowing this option was before her was perfect.      “Oh, Suz . . . you’ve just given me a tremendous amount of comfort. I don’t know how to thank you for this.”      “I’m so glad. But I was just a conduit,” Susan reminded me. “Bree wanted you to know what she’s been experiencing in the dreamtime, and she knew if she came to me I’d get the message to you.”      “That’s so remarkable. And the timing . . . I’ve been in such turmoil over whether to keep trying to heal her or to let her go. Now I feel like I have my answer . . . that there’s nothing left to do except to be with her until she moves to the next plane.”      “Yes. And I feel very strongly that she’s not going to be far from you. She’s only going to be in a different form, but still your Bree and still there, very close to you.”       “I love that.”      Susan paused. “Are you okay?”      “I am. I’m actually more okay than I’ve been in days. It sounds weird to say, but I feel more equipped to let her go now, as hard as it is, because she feels excited about where she’ll be and what she’ll have the ability to do . . . that trying to get her on some protocol at this stage is pointless. I’m still completely heartbroken over the thought of losing her, but I feel like I can see the divinity in it. I’ll have to get used to life without her physically, but I love the idea of her spiritual presence in the way you described. I actually feel like I can breathe, and that everything will be okay.” We shared a few moments of silent understanding. “I truly don’t know how to thank you enough.” . . .      “Well, you should probably thank Bree. She’s the one who knew you were struggling and needed to hear this. And she couldn’t express it in her physical form. She’s clearly in between planes right now.”      Almost to myself, I said, “And of course she’d find a way to tell me.”     *   *   Stacey Aaronson is a writer, ghostwriter, editor, book and website designer, graphics creator, and publishing partner who has been involved in the full or partial production of over two hundred books. She delights in working with authors of multiple genres within her business, The Book Doctor Is In, and as a layout artist for She Writes Press. Raising, and Losing, My Remarkable Teenage Mother is her first solo publication.   https://www.staceyaaronson.com