I have a 3, almost 4 year old son named “S”. He has dark dark brown hair, and huge blue eyes that according to one kind elderly lady in a grocery store, “Can see through to the soul.” He’s been called an “old soul” by his preschool teachers, that he “speaks like a little grown up”, and even a stranger once told me with a smile, “Oh honey. This one has been here for a while.”
My husband is the extremely logical type. Calls himself a “devout atheist”, lol. I struggle with my spiritual classification, so we’ll just leave it at that. My mother believes strongly in past lives, and her and I have had interesting conversations lately as a result of S’s stories.
The first time S told a story that made me wonder about past lives, he was about 2 ½. This is an approximation of what was said:
S: Remember when you were the big little girl and I was the little boy? I didn’t hold your hand. I’m sorry. The car was too fast, and I didn’t hold your hand. It wasn’t your fault. I should always hold your hand.
He was so sad and serious that I didn’t really know how to react. He was holding my hand while he said this and petting it as if to comfort me. It was so sweet and so sad, that I had to hold back tears. Strangely, that night I had a dream about being on a dusty back road holding hands with S. I was younger though in the dream, wearing a calico old fashioned looking dress, and just walking along a road. No cars or death in the dream. In fact, the dream was really vivid but nothing really happened...we just walked for a while. I woke up feeling very bittersweet about the dream - happy but sad at the same time.
More recently, S has been insisting that he has a big brother, and often talks about how much he misses him - usually in the car he will spontaneously talk about him.
S: I miss my big brother.
Me: You don’t have a big brother. You are a big brother.
S: No! I miss my big brother Ryan. He died when I was a baby.
Me: Tell me about Ryan.
S: He was 4. He died.
Me: How did he die?
S: I don’t know. He got sick... I really miss him.
Sometimes talking about Ryan will upset him to the point that he cries. This is always hard because I’m not sure what to say to comfort him. I usually just tell him that I’m sorry he misses him.
Just last night, he spoke about his “other mommies and daddies” as he has done before. This time though, he happily told me, “You are always my favorite one.” That’s a weird way of putting it...like I have been his mom multiple times? Too funny...
S also often talks about when he was a grown up. This conversation happened today in the car and is what prompted me to finally post.
S: I wish I was grown up again.
Me: Again? When were you a grown up?
S: I was a grown-up daddy before I became a kid again.
Me: Who was the mommy?
S: You were! You were the mommy, and I was the daddy. Then I died, became a baby, and now I’m your kid.
Me: Oh yea? If you were a daddy, did you have any kids?
S: Oh yes. We had 10 kids. 5 boys and 5 girls. And the 2 little girls, and the 1 boy can sleep in our room at night. That’s just how we will sleep. So no one gets scared.
My husband thinks that these are just stories from a child with an active imagination. But I find it really strange that his big brother has a name, that he speaks about death in an appropriately contextual way, and the emotions he shows when he tells the stories.
He is a creative child, but he always admits to “just pretending” when asked. He’s a very sensitive child, and I hate that he gets so upset sometimes when speaking about these events. He becomes very emotional, sometimes crying that he misses Ryan. This isn’t just a pretend game to him. He is really feeling sadness from missing these people. He seems to go back and forth between knowing what has happened in this life vs past ones. Sometimes, he makes a clear distinction, but other times he acts as if some of these people are still around.
I’m looking for advice on how to help him work through these feelings of missing his other families.
My husband is the extremely logical type. Calls himself a “devout atheist”, lol. I struggle with my spiritual classification, so we’ll just leave it at that. My mother believes strongly in past lives, and her and I have had interesting conversations lately as a result of S’s stories.
The first time S told a story that made me wonder about past lives, he was about 2 ½. This is an approximation of what was said:
S: Remember when you were the big little girl and I was the little boy? I didn’t hold your hand. I’m sorry. The car was too fast, and I didn’t hold your hand. It wasn’t your fault. I should always hold your hand.
He was so sad and serious that I didn’t really know how to react. He was holding my hand while he said this and petting it as if to comfort me. It was so sweet and so sad, that I had to hold back tears. Strangely, that night I had a dream about being on a dusty back road holding hands with S. I was younger though in the dream, wearing a calico old fashioned looking dress, and just walking along a road. No cars or death in the dream. In fact, the dream was really vivid but nothing really happened...we just walked for a while. I woke up feeling very bittersweet about the dream - happy but sad at the same time.
More recently, S has been insisting that he has a big brother, and often talks about how much he misses him - usually in the car he will spontaneously talk about him.
S: I miss my big brother.
Me: You don’t have a big brother. You are a big brother.
S: No! I miss my big brother Ryan. He died when I was a baby.
Me: Tell me about Ryan.
S: He was 4. He died.
Me: How did he die?
S: I don’t know. He got sick... I really miss him.
Sometimes talking about Ryan will upset him to the point that he cries. This is always hard because I’m not sure what to say to comfort him. I usually just tell him that I’m sorry he misses him.
Just last night, he spoke about his “other mommies and daddies” as he has done before. This time though, he happily told me, “You are always my favorite one.” That’s a weird way of putting it...like I have been his mom multiple times? Too funny...
S also often talks about when he was a grown up. This conversation happened today in the car and is what prompted me to finally post.
S: I wish I was grown up again.
Me: Again? When were you a grown up?
S: I was a grown-up daddy before I became a kid again.
Me: Who was the mommy?
S: You were! You were the mommy, and I was the daddy. Then I died, became a baby, and now I’m your kid.
Me: Oh yea? If you were a daddy, did you have any kids?
S: Oh yes. We had 10 kids. 5 boys and 5 girls. And the 2 little girls, and the 1 boy can sleep in our room at night. That’s just how we will sleep. So no one gets scared.
My husband thinks that these are just stories from a child with an active imagination. But I find it really strange that his big brother has a name, that he speaks about death in an appropriately contextual way, and the emotions he shows when he tells the stories.
He is a creative child, but he always admits to “just pretending” when asked. He’s a very sensitive child, and I hate that he gets so upset sometimes when speaking about these events. He becomes very emotional, sometimes crying that he misses Ryan. This isn’t just a pretend game to him. He is really feeling sadness from missing these people. He seems to go back and forth between knowing what has happened in this life vs past ones. Sometimes, he makes a clear distinction, but other times he acts as if some of these people are still around.
I’m looking for advice on how to help him work through these feelings of missing his other families.
