A Daughter's Journey: A Spirit from Heaven

by Louise Michaud

Overview

A Daughter’s Journey was written during the most difficult time in my life—grieving the loss of my daughter, Chantal, who passed away on July 22, 2012. She inspired many people throughout her lifetime, including me. Her inspiration has given me strength and has compelled me to share her story with the world. She lived each day to the fullest while she battled cancer and heart disease from her earliest years. Here, I talk about her fears, anxieties, and frustrations. The love and compassion, the patience and understanding she felt for other people made her who she truly was—a loving spirit. I share her story in the hope of helping families whose lives have been affected by illness or are grieving the loss of a child.

Knowing that my daughter is around me and communicates with me has helped my grieving her loss. I know that death is not final. Her soul lives on.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781452520834
Publisher:	Balboa Press
Publication date:	09/03/2014
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	228
File size:	4 MB

Read an Excerpt

A Daughter's Journey

A Spirit from Heaven

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By Louise Michaud

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2014 Louise Michaud
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-2082-7

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CHAPTER 1

An Unexpected Arrival

It was the summer of 1967 and our last day at school. To celebrate our graduation, our class decided to have a beach party at Sherkston Beach that weekend. We also thought it would be more fun if we invited some outside friends to join us that day. I set my alarm to wake up at seven o'clock that morning so I would have plenty of time to have everything ready before my ride came to pick me up.

I woke up to a beautiful sunny Saturday morning. The weather forecast had predicted the weather to be in the nineties. I packed my cooler with plenty of food and drinks for the day. We arrived at the beach around eleven. The sun was already beating down on us. We unpacked the car and put all our gear in place. The only way to cool off was to go for a swim. We all ran into the water. It was so cool and refreshing, especially after sweating so much during the ride there.

Our day was spent playing volleyball, water polo, and horseshoes and taking walks along the beach. You could feel the warm sand filtering through your toes. It was a great day filled with fun and laughter. To end this perfect day we all sat around a campfire and roasted marshmallows. While I was sitting there, I happened to notice this young man staring at me. He had dark hair, was good-looking, and appeared to be tall. I said to myself, Did he just arrive, or has he been here all along and I just happened to notice him? When he saw me staring at him, he got up and started to walk towards me. My heart started to beat really fast. I thought, Oh, no! He is coming toward me. What will I say to him? He didn't give me a chance to speak, as he immediately sat down beside me and introduced himself as John. I said, "Hello, my name is Louise. I'm happy to meet you." I asked him how he'd found out about the party. John told me he came with a friend and had only just arrived.

Within minutes I started to feel a little more relaxed. I found out John was an only child. He lived in my home town in St. Catharines. He was four years older than I and working as an industrial millwright. We talked for hours and got to know each other. By the end of the evening, John asked me if I would like to go out with him the following Saturday. I was really excited, as I was hoping he would ask me out. I said, "Yes, I would love to go out with you." What a wonderful way to end the school year.

I really looked forward to my date with John. Earlier that week we had talked about going to the movies. As soon as I saw the car pull in our driveway, I became very nervous. Even though I felt comfortable with John at the beach, I was still a bit anxious waiting for his arrival. We had a wonderful time that night and planned to go out again.

Having completed high school, I found employment as a receptionist for a law firm. John and I continued dating and got along very well. We enjoyed each other's company and we had a lot of things in common. After a year and a half of going out together, we decided to get married. On September 5, 1969, John and I became husband and wife. I was twenty years old at the time.

Two years into our marriage, John and I decided it was time to start a family. My beautiful son, Thomas, was born on March 21, 1971, weighing in at nine pounds and one ounce. He was the sweetest little boy, with dark hair, big fat rosy cheeks, and a wonderful appetite. I was so proud to be his mom, and John was so proud to have a son.

Thomas was a very good baby, which made it easier on me. The only thing I found difficult was that Thomas had his days and nights mixed up. He would sleep all day and be up all night. Being a stay-at-home mom gave me the opportunity to rest during the day while he slept. He had a tremendous appetite; I couldn't get the food into his mouth fast enough. Thomas learned to walk by the time he was nine months old and could speak clearly well before his third birthday. When Thomas turned five I enrolled him in kindergarten. He enjoyed school and made a lot of new friends. I decided it was time for me to go back to work.

John and I had talked about having another child, but the years flew by so quickly. Before we knew it, Thomas was twelve years old. He was growing up fast and doing very well in school. I was working at a small novelty shop and really enjoyed it. The thought of another child no longer occurred to us.

In the spring of 1982 I became pregnant with our second child. I was then thirty-three years old. The thought of having another child was emotionally overwhelming for me. I felt scared and dismayed that I would have to start all over again. I had given away all the things we needed for a new baby. I would have to buy everything. I would have to quit work. I would have to worry about getting babysitters. Some of these thoughts were silly, but even so, every one of them was overpowering at the time.

I really liked my job, and I wanted to continue working. When I found out I was pregnant, I knew it would change my life forever. Yet I believe things happen for a reason. After the initial shock of learning I was pregnant, I started thinking about the new creation inside of me, and this thought helped me find such peace and love that all of the earlier negative emotions disappeared.

My due date was early February, but my daughter was especially anxious to come into the world. She decided to arrive on November 27, 1982, the day before her dad's birthday. I went into labor on a Friday night, and Chantal was born at 5:27 a.m. Saturday morning. She was two months premature, weighing three pounds and three ounces and measuring eighteen inches. That is when our lives changed forever.

My daughter was very beautiful and very tiny. She was a fighter from the moment she took her first breath. The day after she was born, her weight slipped down to two pounds and fourteen ounces. While we were told that this was normal for a newborn, considering how little she was, the weight loss terrified us. The first time I saw Chantal in the incubator brought tears to my eyes. My first thought was, Is this my fault? Did I cause this to happen to my baby? Maybe I did not eat right; could I have taken better care of myself? I tried not to think that way, but once in a while those negative thoughts would pop into my head.

Seeing Chantal's frail little body just lie there with a feeding tube inserted in her nose was heart-wrenching. The fact that I could not hold her close to me, have her feel the love I had for her, was one of the hardest things I ever had to feel. Since I could not hold my daughter in my arms, I did get some comfort in putting my hand through a small opening in front of the incubator and hold her little hand. I talked to Chantal. I let her know how much I loved her, how much I longed to hold her and take her home with me. The doctor signed my discharge papers. It was time for me to leave the hospital. Having to go home and not being able to take Chantal with me was heartbreaking. I went back every day to be with my daughter. In the evening I would go back with my husband John and my son, Thomas. We always had a bet as to how much weight she had gained. Some days it was only a quarter of an ounce. Yet we never had any doubt that Chantal was going to get better, and every day she would improve.

I will never forget this. Chantal had been in the hospital four weeks already. It was a Friday morning, time for me to head to the hospital to see my baby. When I walked into the nursery, I screamed and started to cry. "Oh my God, I can hold my baby!" The day I was praying for had finally arrived. I was so happy. The nurses were excited for me. They told me that since Chantal was getting stronger every day, she was able to be transferred to a nursery bed. I was so grateful to the staff and to God for taking care of my little girl. Finally, I could hold my sweet baby in my arms. What a comfort to hold her close to me for the first time. She was so small and so beautiful, I couldn't stop kissing her. There were times I was afraid I wasn't holding her the right way. It felt awkward but wonderful at the same time.

I could hold her for only a short period of time. Chantal needed all her strength, and holding her too long was tiresome. I wanted to call my husband at work and tell him the good news. I decided to keep the wonderful news quiet until we came back that evening to see our baby. I wanted them to be as surprised as I was. It was very difficult for me to keep silent. We finished supper, I quickly put the dishes in the dishwasher, and off we went to the hospital. I really wanted to see the expression on both their faces, so I let them go in first to the nursery. When they saw Chantal in the little bed, my son, with a big smile on his face, immediately ran to her bedside. The look of excitement on my husband's face made me cry. They were both so happy they too could hold her now. In the days to follow, John and Thomas would run into the nursery to see who could hold her first. Since I was able to have that wonderful opportunity during the day, I let them.

Every day Chantal was getting stronger, I couldn't wait to get to the hospital to see how much she had progressed overnight. We prayed for the day Chantal would come home where she belonged. During the time Chantal was in the hospital, only a few family members were allowed to see her at a time, and only through a glass window. Chantal's aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews were also looking forward to that special day. Two weeks later our prayers were answered. Chantal was released from the hospital, weighing five pounds four ounces.

We were incredibly excited taking her home. As parents we were also very proud of how much Chantal had progressed in the last six weeks. We had her room all ready for her arrival. When we got home our golden retriever, Tara, was right there beside us, wondering who this little person was. Tara was a very gentle dog, so we knew not to fear her being around Chantal. I put Chantal down in a cradle I had borrowed. Even in there she looked so tiny. She did not occupy much space. It would be a while before she could sleep in her own crib.

I watched her as she slept. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She was so beautiful. She was perfect. Her skin was a beautiful shade of rose. Her hair was dark and silky. Her eyes were a lovely shade of dark blue, almost navy. In the beginning I found I was a little nervous having to bathe her and change her. It had been twelve years since Thomas was born, and because Chantal was so little I was a bit apprehensive.

As a "preemie," Chantal was able to eat only two ounces of milk at a time. My days of sleeping through the night were over. She would wake me up every two hours. As soon as I put her back to bed and started to doze off, it was time to get up again for her next feeding. It did not take long before I was able to increase her milk to four ounces. Shortly after that I was able to increase it to six ounces. This allowed her to sleep a little longer. At the age of six months, Chantal weighed ten pounds twelve ounces and was sleeping through the night. I was very grateful that I could now get a good night's sleep, but most of all, that she was doing so well. It didn't take long before she was eating solid food.

Thomas was really proud of his baby sister. He helped us when it came time for her feeding; and without complaining, he would babysit for us whenever we needed to go out. He was her big brother and wanted to take care of her. Along with her brother, our golden retriever, Tara, watched over her. The dog would lie down beside her crib whenever Chantal went to sleep. When Chantal started to walk, the dog would forever follow her throughout the house. Even though Tara was Thomas's dog, she and Chantal became real good buddies.

I was told by a nurse that because Chantal was two months premature, she would be slower in her development. Happily, that was not the case for my daughter. Chantal still had a great appetite. Her weight was increasing slowly but steadily. Chantal started forming words. Her first word was Dadda. John was so proud. I knew I was never going to live that one down, but I was happy for him. In June 1983, at the age of seven months, she turned over for the first time. She also developed a very hearty laugh when you made faces at her. By August, Chantal was able to sit up without any assistance.

One time when I put Chantal on a blanket on the floor in the living room, I left for a minute to get something from the next room, and when I turned to go back into the living room, she was right there by my feet. I screamed! I did not expect her to be there. The scream scared Chantal and made her cry. I immediately picked her up to console her. "Oh, sweetie. Mommy did not mean to scare you. I am so sorry. Mommy loves you so much." I held her tight, gave her a big hug and a kiss. I was so excited for both of us. I couldn't wait to tell John and Thomas that Chantal was now able to crawl.

In early December she was able to stand on her own, and by the middle of December she walked for the first time. My husband and I were sitting in the living room watching television, and Thomas was in his room. Chantal was sitting on the floor playing with one of her toys. The next thing we knew, Chantal was crawling towards the coffee table. She stood up, balanced herself, and started to walk. We called Thomas to come right away. We watched to see what she was going to do next. She turned herself around and started to walk towards us. "Chantal's walking," John said in amazement. It was a very proud moment for all of us. She was thirteen months old.

Chantal was progressing normally. She was forming more words. Her vocabulary was increasing. I had returned to work full-time, so I needed a sitter during the day. I had interviewed a few girls. One in particular that I felt comfortable with, and Chantal took a shine to her, so I hired her. For the next three years she took very good care of my daughter. I never regretted my choice. I was very grateful to her.

In September, just before Chantal's fourth birthday, John and I had decided to enroll her in prekindergarten. We felt she needed some form of normality in her life. It was only three days a week, half days. Being around other children would be good for Chantal. She loved school and playing with the other kids. She made a lot of friends. It was a good decision. My boss would allow me to take an early lunch and bring Chantal home to the sitter. Everything was wonderful. Chantal was a normal four-year-old enjoying life.

The summer following Chantal's fourth birthday is when our lives changed forever. For two nights in a row, Chantal woke up complaining of back pain. It never bothered her during the day, so I called her pediatrician to have him check it out. Her appointment was scheduled for Friday morning. The doctor advised me to go straight to the hospital and have her back x-rayed and once that was done, come back to his office so he could examine her. While examining her, he told me he didn't feel anything and that we would have to wait for the results of the X-ray. He also told me not to worry. On our way home I felt a little less stressed. When John and Thomas came home, I told them what had occurred during our visit to the doctor. John tried to reassure me everything would be okay.

It was our July long weekend. We had made plans on the Saturday to spend the day in Toronto with my sister Carolle and my nephew James, who was a few years older than Chantal. We thought it would be a great time to take the children to visit Ontario Place. It was a beautiful sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. Chantal couldn't wait for her aunt and her cousin to arrive. They arrived early enough that we had time to sit and have a coffee in the backyard before we left. Chantal and James were playing and having a great old time while Carolle and I were catching up on the news. My sister lived in Buffalo, so unfortunately we did not see each other as often as we would have liked. On occasions we would spend hours on the phone, so seeing her and James that day was wonderful.

I had to go into the house to get something when the phone rang. It was the hospital. The doctor on the other end of the line told me he saw something on the X-ray and wanted us to bring Chantal in for more testing that very day. My heart jumped right to my throat. My knees felt weak. I wanted to scream out loud, "Oh God, no!" but kept quiet. The waves of fear that came over me were something I never want to experience again. I was so frightened. I could only think the worst. All I could say was, "We will be there as soon as we can."

I looked out the kitchen window and saw Carolle, Thomas, and John sitting there. I could see Chantal and James running around having fun. Watching her gave me such sadness. I knew I had to calm myself before I went outside. I went to the back door and asked John if he could come into the house for a minute. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I started to cry as I was telling him about the phone call. He also looked worried. John took me in his arms and tried to console me. "Let's wait until we get to the hospital and talk to the doctor. Right now we need to go outside and tell the kids we can't go to Toronto." We took a deep breath, composed ourselves, and went outside. Once I was in the yard, I wanted to grab Chantal and hold her tight, but I did not want to scare her. Instead we had to tell the kids we were going to the hospital, not Toronto.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from A Daughter's Journey by Louise Michaud. Copyright © 2014 Louise Michaud. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Author's Note, ix,
Acknowledgements, xi,
Introduction, xv,
Chapter 1 An Unexpected Arrival, 1,
Chapter 2 Our Lives Are About to Change, 18,
Chapter 3 Wonderful News, 48,
Chapter 4 Facing Heart Disease, 76,
Chapter 5 Trip to Jamaica, 100,
Chapter 6 Finding Love, 122,
Chapter 7 Another Chance at Life, 158,
Chapter 8 Communication from the Other Side, 188,
Coping with a Child's Serious Illness, 201,
Recommended Books, 203,
About the Author, 205,