To the mothers of departed children

It hardly seems possible that seven years have passed since I lost my child. This day is the anniversary of my miscarriage. Ordinarily, I avoid talking about it in public because I don’t like to think about it but I use this day to remind women who have lost children that they are still mothers. It’s something rather painful that I have observed since I lost my own baby, this phenomena of guilt by women who want to be acknowledged on certain days such as Mother’s Day but not feeling like they have the right because they never actually had the baby. The truth is, ladies, we have every right to call ourselves mothers and wish to be acknowledged in the same way that mothers are who have their children with them. My spiritual beliefs teach me that just because we did not give birth to full-term babies does not mean the souls of those babies cease to exist. They exist in a place where we will all see them again when our times come to pass from this world into the next.

For some of us, our departed children will return to us by means of reincarnation whether it is in this life or future lives. This anniversary came to me with a bittersweet air because my son was reborn over the summer to another mother, thereby fulfilling the promise made in the days prior to my miscarriage. On one hand, I will have the privilege of watching him grow into manhood, but on the other hand, he is no longer my son. You see, before I miscarried, I had a few dreams in which I was allowed to meet my child and receive comfort from him to soften the blow of the loss to come. He repeated more than once that he would be back, that I wasn’t able to be a mother yet. At the time, I thought he meant he might return to a future pregnancy of mine, whether this life or the next, but I was thinking in rather limited terms. A soul will come back in a variety of roles, something I failed to understand in my own life, despite teaching other people the same thing.

Last year, my son returned in a rather cryptic and vivid dream in which I was holding him and feeding him as an infant. Another spirit being came along – something much more evolved than myself – and touched his head, marking him somehow. Wordlessly, the being took my son from me and I was at peace with it. Not long afterward, a friend of mine announced she was pregnant and it dawned on me that the dream was meant to convey to me that my child found a new place in this world. I remained mildly skeptical, however, because such a quick turnaround rate in reincarnating (less than ten years) is not as common as one might think, although it can happen. When her baby was born, I recognized my son right away in the photographs. There is no more proof needed for me than that to know that my son found a mother to help him explore this life and still allow me to be part of it. His first initial is even still the same as it was when I named him seven years ago.

My purpose in sharing such a private story with you today is to inspire hope. Although my baby Joshua left my body seven years ago, his soul lived on and now he has a life to live here with us in the world. It does feel a little bittersweet at times knowing that I’m technically not his mother anymore but I was his mother for seven years. The love of a mother doesn’t die with the passage of time. I still have rather maternal leanings toward other souls whom I once called my own children even though many of them are older than me now. A few of my former children are now my friends and another is one of my sisters. Even my brother still behaves in a naturally paternal manner toward me because he was once my father. So you see, even though we temporarily endure the agony of loss, the loss doesn’t last forever. In one way or another, we will all meet again. Until then, try not to feel alone because the souls of those you have lost still love you and look in on you from time to time. Everything is by design and happens for a reason. Allow yourself to grieve but never forget that you are still a mother no matter if you gave birth to a full-term child or miscarried in the earliest stages of pregnancy. Allow the universe to show you the way through your grief. The light is at the end of the tunnel but you may need help feeling your way through the darkness.

2 responses to “To the mothers of departed children”

  1. Mary Rose says:

    This is hopeful, sad, and bittersweet. I’ve never had children. I have always had the feeling that I had them and they are somewhere in the universe, and I will see them again. I am sorry that you couldn’t raise your son, but at least you know where he is, and you can be in his life. I just wish I had reincarnation memories, for the hope it would give me.

  2. Yulena Union says:

    Just remember you are still a mother, Jessica. Joshua is a very fine name indeed.

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