I’ve always been a believer of spiritualism and what it contains however I’ve never really thought of it as a religion as I don’t believe in a God or anything like that. Yet spiritualism has been helpful for me in my grief…
Since losing Jason, I made it a habit to go one every fortnight to my local spiritualist church and became familiar with the surroundings. I found it comforting hearing other people’s messages and seeing how emotional they would get when their loved ones came through and gave them evidence that they are still around. Like I said before, I have always believed that spirit lives on, as a child I remember seeing the spirit of my deceased grandad, someone who I never got the chance to meet, and regularly recall him following me around looking after me, being my guardian angel in a way. Unfortunately I no longer hold that gift so I seek others to guide the way and bring those I love closer than ever before.
On Wednesday night I attended our local spiritualist church for the first time since I found out we were expecting Baby No 2 and found myself feeling apprehensive at the thought of getting a message and decided tonight wasn’t my night and my friend would get her message instead (it’s very rare we both get one on the same night!) Wednesday night’s service was slightly different however and was a psychometry night which meant we had to take something that belonged to our loved ones. I didn’t for a minute think that taking anything of Jason’s would bring me a message but as I don’t own anything of my Nan’s, I took Jason’s bear. The only thing he had with him when they carried him in to the hospital room and they allowed us to bring his only real possession home, a bear that is treasured so much and brings back so many painful memories. This bear is the only thing we have in physical form of Jason’s and therefore I was apprehensive to take him and let another person hold him.
However, the message I received couldn’t have been more spot on if they’d known my ordeal. Everything I was told was exactly Jason, from the lack of breath to the small blue ribbon around a bottle I have in his memory box that my dearest friend bought me when Jason passed. I left that night feeling so calm and close to Jason, I could feel him around me. I knew he was there and although I don’t necessarily understand how he could tell her so much information I was comforted knowing he knows me, he is around me and he was never truly alone.
Since Wednesday night I’ve been expected a lapse, a break in my happiness, the grief of knowing the only way I can feel connected to MY Son is by going to church and hoping for a message. There will be no cards, no drawings of Mummy and Jason, no late night cuddles without Daddy knowing, nothing except the hope that someone isn’t too afraid to talk about a baby who died in front of a group of strangers in case they upset the mother who obviously wants to hear about her child.
I am still expecting my grief to take a turn and find myself crying, alone, in the corner of what would have been Jason’s bedroom but for now I am relishing in the comfort of having my Son close to me ❤
A x
Mothering A Rainbow 