Aborted by Another
Our first baby was born a year and a half after our wedding date. He was perfect and dear. We were so blessed to have him.
With my love for children, I had daily helped tend my own younger siblings and by age twelve was an experienced “world-class” baby sitter. So I was pretty much already familiar with the demands of motherhood and the needs of children. It wasn’t long until I became aware that our son, Jimmy, had an unusual need for constant reassurance and comfort. Even when he was in my arms he seemed uncomfortable, searching for something I felt unable to provide him. I had never been around a baby that was so constantly upset.
I took him to several doctors and homeopaths. They all confirmed that Jimmy was developing properly and getting the nourishment and love he needed. This gave me a degree of relief. I concluded that I just had a more sensitive baby than most. My husband and I were so grateful to have him in our home. We would do whatever it took to make him feel whole. Still, his difficulties persisted.
After Jimmy outgrew the infant stage, he had adjusted to being happy and pleasant with me and somewhat with my husband, but he would never go to another person. My husband and I were the only ones who could keep him calm. We never dared leave him with a babysitter, but occasionally we left him with extended family members whom he knew well. Still, he had horrible crying spells and his body shook the whole time. It was so upsetting to everyone concerned that we rarely left him.
We knew something was wrong so we constantly tried to reassure him:
- “I am so lucky to be your mommy.”
- “Thank you for coming to our home.”
- “Mommy and Daddy love having a little boy like you.”
And then there was the night in a motel when my mother experienced a dream-visit from her deceased father, “During the night I dreamed my dad came and stood looking at Jimmy asleep on the floor between us. He said, ‘He is a very special spirit who was aborted by another.’”
Jimmy is age four and one half now. A few nights ago I tucked him in bed with hugs and kisses and closed his door, only to have him call after me to turn on the fan. I went back in and turned on the fan. He said, “Mommy, I thought you’d be mad at me.”
“No, Honey, I’m not mad at you. Is Mommy mad at you a lot or a little?
“Just a little… but Mommy, you’d never kill me ‘cause that would cut me.”
I didn’t know what to say. I reassured him Mommy would never hurt him because we love him so much and we are lucky to have him.
Last night Jimmy snuggled in bed with us as my husband and I talked of having another child. We are hoping for a girl who we have been calling Faith. Jimmy interjected, “I saw Faith last night in my dream. It’s okay for you to have her in your tummy.”
The way he said it brought tears of gratitude. I sensed that this little traumatized soul we love so much finally felt safe enough with us that it was now okay for his little sister to come to my womb.
Compiled by Sarah Hinze