interview by Mike Madrid
There’s no explanation for some things. And I’m comfortable with that. I don’t feel you have to explain anything. And I guess that’s what faith is. It’s believing in something that can’t be proven.
I was born and raised in England. I wasn’t raised in any particular religion. It does say Church of England on my birth certificate. My family weren’t particularly religious. My grandmother is Catholic. I was never raised within a religious framework. My mum divorced when I was about seven. So I was an only child until my mum remarried. I have two younger sisters by a different dad.
I went to the regular school system. Religion wasn’t really introduced, except maybe we’d say a prayer every now and again in morning meeting or “assembly”, as they called it. But that was it really, in a nutshell.
I know I went to Sunday school. I think really that was my mum’s opportunity for a bit of free time. But it was just a fun place to go. I remember being introduced to [the idea of God] at that time. I just remember hearing the word, definitely didn’t feel a connection at that point. I was probably under six. Obviously we talked about those things, and I couldn’t ever remember what they were specifically. And then learning about different religions through school. But still not really feeling a connection.
I really liked this boy at school, and I wanted to know how I could see him. [Laughs] I realized that he belonged to this Christian Fellowship. So I actually joined the Christian Fellowship. But my ulterior motive was to go and see this boy. And obviously that meant going to weekly meetings. And I did start to learn a lot and take a lot on about the Christian faith. At that time I was young and naïve and genuinely interested in it. But I was probably more interested in it from a historical/anthropological point of view.
I realized that they weren’t very tolerant to questions about things that I didn’t understand. Like bringing up the question of dinosaurs. I wanted to know how they could reconcile all this stuff and the fact that dinosaurs really existed. [Laughs] We have proof of that. How do you reconcile one with the other? I was probably eleven, twelve at the time. So I probably didn’t ask in the most intellectual way, and it probably sounded a bit naïve. They had their rules and their book that they followed to the “T”, and they didn’t really want to entertain or have discussion about anything outside of that. So I found that very intolerant, and it shut me down. I felt they weren’t ready to have questions thrown at them. My reason for being there probably wasn’t the best reason in the first place, but I did become genuinely interested.
I found their intolerance of other religions quite alarming. And that didn’t work for me. I found there was often criticism of other religions, in kind of a “poor them, they believe this” kind of thing. “They don’t know what we believe.” Looking down on other religions. And that just didn’t work for me! I just found that went against the idea of what I thought Christianity would be about—accepting and loving.
I remember thinking, “Maybe it’s just like a rule book.” A set of rules that people can go and live their life and feel like they’re living a good life. I remember having all these thoughts, and trying to throw this into conversation at the weekly meetings. I wanted to know what people thought, but they weren’t into the debate. It just never went down very well. I feel like I was ousted. Ousted from the Christian Fellowship! [Laughs] And I wasn’t rebellious. I just genuinely had these questions, and I wanted to have answers. That was when I understood that there was this kind of “blind faith” that people have. They believe this stuff regardless of challenges from the outside. It just didn’t gel with me. I didn’t like the intolerance. It was very narrow. So I left that, and abandoned any sort of Christian ideals. This Christian phase was swiftly followed by my punk rock phase, Siouxsie and the Banshees being the favorite. I was 13.
And then I didn’t really touch any religion, and I probably haven’t since. Other than feeling that sense of faith. And believing that there was something bigger. And believing that there was a plan. I do struggle with that sometimes, when really big bad things happen. What the hell is that plan about? And I don’t have an answer for that.
It gave me a lot of comfort that there was a plan, and that things happen for a reason. And that if they didn’t work out, then it wasn’t meant to be. I felt that somebody had an eye on my destiny. Somebody watching. I don’t even know if it’s “somebody”. I’m saying “somebody” because I don’t know what else to say. It is a very comforting feeling. It is reassuring. And of course it’s nothing that you could ever prove.
So you began your career, lived in London and got married. Later, you were offered a job in San Francisco, You and your husband moved to the United States.
I left England when I was thirty-two, and have been living in the States ever since. Ten years, actually.
[My first son] was born six years ago, and it was an immediate love bond. You love your kids. We loved him dearly from the start. When [my second son] H____ was born, it was a strange feeling that we had been given something special. I thought it. In my head I said, “He’s an angel.” I remember when H___ was around three months old, [my husband] said to me one day, “We’ve been given an angel.” [My husband], he’s not a man of many words, and certainly not a man of those kinds of words. And it was so extraordinary to hear him use those kinds of words. I just said, “I know.” We didn’t need to talk about it any more. It was left at that. But it was a weird conversation for us to have. Certainly not the kind of conversation you have. If you’re from England, you don’t talk like that. It really resonated later, when H___ became sick.
I was blissfully happy with my second child. I wasn’t even following his development. With [my first baby] I was looking things up on the Internet to see what he should be doing at three months, at four months. I was the most relaxed mum the second time around. It was pure enjoyment. Just enjoying every minute. I was just very comfortable and happy. And I wasn’t worried about H___. I was really enjoying and savoring every minute. Even the sleepless nights. This was probably my last child. Wasn’t worried about anything to do with his health. I had no idea what was coming.
At three months I was still on maternity leave. I was at home. [My older son] was at preschool, [my husband] was at work. I think I had just fed H___. I put him down in his little Moses basket. And I sat on the sofa. It was daytime. I suddenly felt this bolt of energy that went through me. The voice said to me, “You’re going to lose this one. But everything’s going to be OK.” And I heard it clear as a bell. I even looked over my shoulder. There was a window behind me, so I knew there couldn’t be somebody there. But I just know what I heard that day. And I know that someone was trying to tell me something. It was a male voice. It wasn’t just something I heard. It was something that I felt with every particle of my body. Someone was definitely trying to send me a message. It was an alarming message, but it also made me feel that everything’s going to be OK. That whole message came with a certain amount of comfort. I know what happened. And I know how it made me feel, within me. I never thought about it again. Until he got sick. That was three months after. And then that day came back to me.
H___was born with leukemia. It happened in utero. We didn’t know. It wasn’t diagnosed until six months. There’s a theory behind that. The mother’s immune system supports a child in the first six months of life. I found out that a lot of children get diagnosed around the six-month mark. That’s when the child’s immune system starts supporting itself independently. So that’s why he got sick at that point. But we had no reason to believe he was ill. He was an angel as a baby. Slept really well. Just happy. Just enjoyed life. Full of zest. And he was healthy. He actually had leukemia at the time, but I didn’t know.
For me, everything came to a head when H___ got sick. That was the greatest test of faith. You have an infant child who is diagnosed with a fatal form of leukemia. You’re told that there’s no hope. No one survives it. The doctors would be telling me things [like] “There’s no hope. Nobody’s ever survived it. Especially so young.” And in my head I’d be saying, “But I know you’re all wrong.” I never could reconcile whether it was just my desperate need to believe that he was going to survive. But I think I knew they were wrong. I knew he was going to survive.
In the beginning when H___ first got sick, we were told there’s no chance. There’s a lot of anger, and hatred towards anybody up there. Anybody “greater”. How could you do this? Why would you do this? But the fact that I had any hatred towards somebody “up there” instead of just thinking, “Oh well, this is just one of those things that happens…” shows that I had some sort of faith in the first place. It was thoroughly tested through that whole experience.
I would ask people, namely a Buddhist and a Christian, how their religions could explain an infant with a fatal illness. Neither had strong thoughts about H__ staying on this earth. But both were happily thinking about the next incarnation. The Buddhist felt that H__ had done all the living he needed to do in previous lives, and that he was done. The Christian couldn't wait for him to get to heaven—“A wonderful place, better than Disneyworld”. It was so frustrating to hear and that this would be their first thought. I couldn't understand how they couldn't see that H__ was better here, with us. Neither of these brought any comfort, and actually made me angry.
I had trouble reconciling the content of the message [I had received before H___’s diagnosis]. I saw a psychiatrist the whole time H___ was sick, because I needed some help. I even asked her [about the message]. But of course she came from a very scientific place. I didn’t like her explanation. Her [observation] was clearly that I must have known he was sick, and it was my mind letting me know. But I know how I felt at that time. I think it was a desperate attempt to get a message to me. Seriously, it was like a bolt from the blue.
Did you ever feel like you were losing that faith that he would survive?
I did. But I feel that was guided by medical information. I feel that were feeding me a shit sandwich every other day. Or sometimes every day. I often questioned, “Is this just me as a mother, desperate for my child? I only want to believe that he’s going to survive.” But I think it was more than that. We would have to go to this “family conference room”. The Family Room, they called it. I hated it. It was basically where they delivered bad news. And we were in there, like every other day. They would sit and tell us stuff. And in my head, I would say, “You’re wrong. You’re wrong. You don’t know H___. I know H___ and he’s going to be OK.” But I never was able to say that to them.
When I think about that whole time, it was horrific. But it was kind of this dreamy time. It’s like they were the nightmares telling me the information, but in my head it was this sense of comfort. “This is going to be OK. I know it's all going to work out. I know it is.” I only really faced those thoughts when we had one of those meetings and the doctor said, “Look, it’s shown up in his spinal fluid again. This isn’t good.” And then I would go away and start choosing what music I’d play at the funeral. But I felt that was driven by information that we were receiving at the time. You’re trying to reconcile factual information and statistics with what you’re trying to feel deep down. So I did do some mental preparation. Ok, we may not have him. So how am I going to feel, and what am I going to do? But that’s all it was. I think I never stopped believing that he was going to be OK.
I always felt it was going to work out, if I was really able to get in touch with my deepest thoughts. There wasn’t many times I could do that, because they were very fragmented. I didn’t sleep for the whole eight months. Not just through being stressed and depressed, but because half [your life is spent] living in the hospital. Nightmare.
When H___ was in treatment in the hospital, a lady came to do reiki on him, and me. [Reiki is a Japanese form of alternate medicine that utilizes a healing touch] She did a lot of work on him. At the time there was so much invasive stuff going on in the hospital. I was desperate for anything that was non-invasive. Anything that might help. He was about seven months old, and he was sitting up in his bed. As she left the room, she looked back. She gasped. It was interesting to see her look ‘round that day and see her face. It was this kind of look. She was shocked by what she saw. I didn’t see it, but she definitely saw something that day. She said, “He’s surrounded by angels.” And it was a very dark time for us. H___ had just relapsed with cancer, and it was a particularly bad sign. Relapse is never good. Usually it means you’re on your way out. I thought [the angels] were gathering around to take him.
I think at some point we were really going to lose him. Something shifted. I feel like something may have tipped the balance. People are particularly touched by an infant. H___ got a lot attention from spiritual people, religious people. I know there were some monks in San Francisco that were doing a thousand prayers a day for him. It wasn’t just local. It was global. I know there were people around the world praying for him. Multiple religions. And I just believe in the power of prayer, or something greater. The power of prayer, and people all around the world. You’ve just got to think that energy focused on him and his well-being—it just tipped the balance in our favor. I feel like something extra happened through the process. So I’m wondering if that message in advance was saying, “Look, this is a dire situation you’re about to enter into.” And I still question that.
I’ve got a child that survived cancer. For whatever reason. By all statistics he should not be here. [Laughs] I’m lucky. I feel I’m the luckiest person in the world. I talked about how things happen for a reason. I’ve come out of the whole experience with H___ feeling a lot happier about myself, and my life.
The fact that he’s here today—I had a very personal experience that really tested my faith. And supported it in the end. I don’t believe in “anyone” in particular. But I believe in something greater than we could ever understand. I’ll tell you what it did for me—it gave me the justification to speak about why I believe in faith, in general. I feel I have an example. It gave me the factual proof, almost, of faith. Of “something else”. So, I’m much more comfortable talking about it to people now. Knowing what happened to us personally.
I didn’t see [the reiki practioner] again until fairly recently. I told her how I had interpreted what she had seen that day. And she said, “Oh my God, no! What I was trying to tell you was nothing’s going to happen, because he’s so fiercely protected. The angels were surrounding H___ to protect him.” Unfortunately I interpreted it the wrong way. But she had a feeling that this was child was going to survive against all odds. Which he did, basically.
I just go back to that time when [my husband] and I had this weird conversation about how we’d been given an angel. I feel like he came here different, and we felt it. We had no reason to believe it in him any more than we did in [our older son] when [he] was born. It’s your child, and you love them. It’s a greater feeling that we had about this child.
Because I don’t have one religion, I look for signs in things. I feel the stars and the planets and everything are all part of the greater plan too. They’re here for a reason. [In Chinese astrology] H___ was born in a supposedly very fortuitous year of the Golden Piglet. It comes around I think every 6oo years, and it’s supposed to be very fortuitous. I know there are a lot of Asian ladies beyond childbearing years trying to become pregnant within that year. And I think people always assume that means financial wealth. Thinking of it only as a financial thing, I did question [it] when H__ got sick. “Well, right, that can’t be true. We’re broke because of it.” But H__ survived something he shouldn’t have survived. He had a lottery ticket. It’s like he won the lottery with his life. He’s in a category of one, and they keep saying there isn’t anyone else out there who’s survived. I see that as a much greater fortune than money could ever be.
[My older son] talks a lot about God. And I hadn’t put that idea in his head until he mentioned it. I think it’s probably school. Probably other kids that have been raised in more religious families, where it’s discussed more. When kids get together they pass things on. When he brings things up, I talk to him about it too. We just talk about who God might be. I always phrase it as “This is what some people think…” I’d like him to come to it on his own. I don’t ever want him to feel that he has to take on my beliefs. He’s interested in all religions. And school is like that these days. They learn about Hanukah and different faiths. So he’s interested in all that, which I’m very happy about.
I definitely talk to [my sons] to them about different religions, because most of it’s historical. These things happened. Jesus did exist, and Buddha did exist, Mohammed did exist. These people existed on this planet, and there’s proof of that. So from the historical aspect, they need to know about it. And then why different people in the world believe different things. It’s important for them to understand that.
I definitely pray. I’m not sure who to. It’s definitely a meditative thing. These sort of short urgent prayers versus ongoing things. I remember before H___ got diagnosed, I was commuting to [San Francisco] from Marin with two boys, and dropping them off at day care. Within three weeks of it I was done. The whole commuting thing with two kids, and trying to keep up that job. It really got to me. It was not good. My mum always remembers me telling her, “I can’t do this anymore. This is too much.” I remember lying on my deck and looking up to the sky, or the universe, whatever. I said, “Bring me something else, because this I cannot do.” It was a very desperate, but needed prayer. That might have been on the Friday night, and I think on the Monday H___ had been diagnosed with leukemia.
I always think of that as “you get what you wish for”. I was desperate not to carry on with the situation that I was in. And then I got that very quickly. I know H__ was already sick, so I don’t feel guilty about it. But I always think, “Well, was that the answer?” Because it forced me to leave my job. And three years on I’m still not working. But at the time I didn’t think I could do without that money. I didn’t think I could do without that job. It’s like you’re caught in a cycle where you have to keep going at it. We’re struggling financially. But I’m happier. [Laughs] And there will be more money in the future at some point. It was like a desperate need to change. It was coming. Life was going to change dramatically. And fortunately things worked out. And I feel much happier as a person now. Much happier adult.
If I’d stayed in England, would it be different? I do think about things like that myself. If I’d stayed in England, maybe married someone different. What would have happened? Maybe [my husband and I] wouldn’t have still been together. But, assuming we’d had the same kids, H___ might not have had all the options open to him. Here’s the thing— we may be better off because of the healthcare system’s covered [in England]. But because of the healthcare, H___ wouldn’t have had a bone marrow transplant in England. Because it’s socialized medicine, he wouldn’t have qualified for the transplant because his odds for survival were so low. It would have been against protocol. Somebody on the board of directors would have had to make a decision. He may have died. Whereas in this country, you make the decision. You just pay for it. And then we were lucky to get a great donor. Just things like that.
Again, I say things happen for a reason. I was meant to come here, so H___ would get that extra help. And then I end up being a happier adult.