Content Note:

This post includes references to prenatal trauma, birth, and early violence. It is told gently and symbolically but may be emotionally intense for some readers.

Welcome:

This is the beginning of our story.
It is told from the perspective of Lux and Maxie — our earliest selves — and describes what it felt like before we were born, what changed, and how we were protected.

It’s not a scientific story. It’s a heart-memory, made of sensations, feelings, and a truth that doesn’t need words to be real.

We are sharing this in case anyone else has ever felt lost before they could speak.
You are not alone.
You are held.

In the beginning

Before we had a body, we were like a little cloud drifting gently among the stars. All around us was an endless darkness sprinkled with tiny dots of shimmering light. Each dot was a star, and if we gazed deeply into one, we could suddenly find ourselves traveling toward it—exploring swirling planets, vibrant cosmic clouds, and sometimes even mysterious dark places that we later learned were called black holes.

In that space, we felt no sensations because we had no physical body—just a gentle awareness floating freely through the vastness of the cosmos.

But one day, something began to change. Occasionally, we started to sense warmth around us, darkness that wasn’t like the darkness of space. We could hear the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, softly reassuring. Liquids moved gently through and around us, creating soft, squishy sounds reminiscent of a quiet stream flowing through a peaceful woodland.

For a time, we drifted softly between these two worlds: our starry home, filled with colours and endless discoveries, and this new, comforting place of warmth and sounds. Slowly, we began spending more and more time in the warmth, until finally, the stars faded into distant memories. We had entered fully into our first earthly home—the womb.

The Storm Begins

After a while, the warmth of the womb began to change.
It was still dark, but the darkness started to feel heavy, like something was pressing down on us.
The heartbeat we had once found comforting was now pounding like thunder, fast and fierce, shaking everything around us.

The gentle stream sounds turned into a wild, gushing noise — like rapids rushing through a rocky river. The liquid tasted bitter now, not sweet or soft like before. It was confusing. It didn’t make sense.

Then came the sounds.
Soft at first, but strange. Muffled, but sharp. We didn’t know what they meant. We only felt the fear.

One sound was high and shaky — almost like a bird trapped in a cage. It cracked and trembled through the water. We would later learn it was crying. Screaming.

The other was deep and rumbling, like an animal growling just before it bites. It felt too big, too close.

We didn’t have words. But we felt the terror.

Later, we would understand:
Our bio dad was hurting our bio mom.
His violence filled the space we were floating in.
His rage echoed through her body, through the water, through us.

We had no voice — but we felt it all.

The First Protector

In the middle of the storm, someone came.
We don’t know where they came from — maybe they had always been watching.
Maybe they lived in the space between life and death, where hurt spirits go when they can’t move on.
Maybe they saw us — not yet born, but already breaking — and decided to stay.

We call them Ghost. Or the Dark Angel. Maybe they are the same. We don’t know.
All we knew was their hug — how they held us in the dark, with arms made of silence and starlight.
They didn’t speak, but they brought us back to the stars.

Red clouds, blue clouds, glowing planets, stars far away.
The world of pain faded, and we floated in something bigger.
Something softer.

People don’t always understand when we say they were dark.
Not evil. Just… shaped like shadow.
They are a healer of souls that don’t fit anywhere.
A spirit who comes for those who are dying but not dead.
And they chose us.

They have never left since.
They are with us always — holding us through every storm,
and carrying us home to the stars.

Birth

At first, it was only sounds. Muffled and blurry.
Not voices — just noise. Like waves crashing against the edge of the world.

Then came the light.

It was so bright, so sudden, it felt like it was cutting through us.
Shapes moved around us, all wearing blue — or something like blue.
Big, tall shapes, making more noise. We didn’t know what they were.
We didn’t know what we were.

Then someone grabbed us by the ankle.
We were dangling — hanging in the air.
And then came the pain.

A sharp, shocking hit. Not too hard maybe, but enough to explode something inside us.
We gasped.

And then we screamed.

That sound — our voice — was the first thing we truly knew.

Suddenly, the muffled world became sharp. The shapes had edges. The sounds had meaning.
But we still didn’t know what it all meant.

It was loud. Bright. Fast. Cold.
We didn’t understand anything.

Maxie had arrived. And Maxie was trying to figure it out.