Cindy Kludt Spock
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On February 25th, 1987, Katie Spock was birthed at the home of her parents with an attending midwife, her assistant, and several close women friends.
When Katie did not breath and the midwife took no immediate action, Katie's mother, Cindy, took charge and started CPR on her baby, to no avail.
With this sudden and unexpected death of her baby, Cindy started on a journey through profound feelings of loss and guilt toward a spiritual awakening and forgiveness.
This book reads like a novel and the story is compelling regardless if one has had a significant loss or not. Even though there are intense parts of grief and sadness; beautifully written, the book leaves the reader with a feeling of hope and joy.
Cindy Kludt Spock has had a long career path in the helping professions, first as a registered nurse working with death and dying, and then as a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist. Even though she had professional experience with grief and loss, when her first born daughter, Katie, was tragically stillborn, she found that her professional experience was of little help. Thrown into turmoil with intense emotional pain and guilt, she was forced to journey inward and seek comfort and healing in unconventional ways which led her to an understanding of our eternal nature. This personal experience has greatly assissted her in her present private practice as a certified grief counselor in the West Los Angeles area. You may contact her through her website at www.cindykludt.com
Going to the beach every day gives me some semblance of sanity. . . . .
A book I read last night has an exercise I intend to do this morning on my walk on the beach. It tells me to imagine my baby at an older age as if she had lived. . . . .
I can see Katie dancing and prancing at the edge of the water, the waves nipping at her heels as she runs from them up to safer dry sand, at which point she gets distracted from the water and chases the seagulls that are resting in the warmth of the sun. She seems to hardly know I am here with her, content to frolic alone on the beach.
It is such a joy to watch her, and I sit down on the warm sand content to be in her presence, even though she ignores me. As I watch, something happens and I go from imagination to actually being with her. I am mesmerized and stay watching her all day, unaware of the passing time.
When the sun starts going down and the air becomes chilly, Katie finally acknowledges my presence. She starts running back to me where I sit on the sand. She climbs into my lap and sits there warming herself from the heat of my body. . . . .
. . . . . We sit and watch the sun go down.
As the two of us watch the blazing horizon, I think it odd that she never turns to look at me. She does not cuddle in toward me, nor does she speak. She is unattainable, just out of my grasp. I ask if she needs anything from me and if she is happy.
She does not answer, but I can see that she is happy and that she does not need anything from me either.
It is I who needs something from her. . . . .
We remain sitting together in detached love and watch until the last flaming cloud turns a cold gray. I do not want it to end. I know when the day is through that Katie will disappear as quietly as she appeared, for she does not belong to me.
I get up and slowly start walking back to my car. A tiny bird comes flying out of nowhere from behind me. It zooms past my shoulder and flies ahead of me. I watch this tiny bird with bright green and yellow colors on its wings and throat. . . .
As I walk along the shore, the lively little bird follows, flying swiftly back and forth, but always close. . . . .
The air is getting colder now as the last rays of the sun disappear. I walk faster to warm myself and notice that the tiny bird is still flitting around me. I take this as a good omen and allow it to lift my spirits. I imagine it has been sent by Katie as an earthly communication. She is telling me that she is just find and her spirit is as free as this little bird.
I get in my car and drive home. I feel so happy.
