• Thank you to Carol and Steve Bowman, the forum owners, for our new upgrade!

Memories of motherhood

W.A. HEART

W.A. HEART

Senior Registered
Hello all!

Being a parent, IMO, is one of the most powerful experiences one can go through. Having recently unveiled a very sweet memory of having been a mother in a PL, I thought I'd share it here.

This memory is of great comfort to me - it was not the easiest of lives and I did find endless solace in my children back then.

Do any other members have memories of their own that they would like to share (mothers and fathers too! ;)) - I would love to hear them!

I’m sitting on a rocking chair in front of the fire. I’m wearing a lightweight nightgown that feels soft and airy on my skin. My hair is moist – I washed it recently – and its done up in a loose bundle on top of my head. I suppose everyone is asleep – and it feels like its really late at night. The fire burns low, and everything is so quiet! I feel my skin all fresh and lustrous from washing and I am absolutely content with the world at that moment.

I’m holding Katie, the tiniest of babies, in my arms. Her head rests just snugly on my breast and I have her wrapped up in a soft woolly blanket. I don’t think the weather is very cold – although the fire is on, I feel sort of eased, relaxed – not tense and huddled as if it was indeed cold.

I just fed my little girl. I sigh a long deep sigh – I’m glad Katie took in a good share tonight. She is such a small baby – her suckling is always little more than the tiniest pressure – makes me worry if she’s growing all right. But not tonight! Her cheeks are rosy and she looks peaceful. I notice that she has a little more strength everyday.

I’m tracing her almost invisible eyebrows with the tip of my finger. Blodyn…. My very own little girl.. You are like a pretty flower – my blodyn..

I’m dozing a bit – feeling a wonderful warmth wash over me. I lay my head back – How beautiful she is… I smile. Joseph is sleeping now too. I smile again. Fleeting thoughts cross my mind and I feel my Katie’s little feet under the blanket. Oh baban... I worried so – that you too would pay for my sin.

But the angels are surely lighting your little face as you sleep – what else could such a lovely glow be? I smile and smile, and look at your little face again. My lips move of their own accord to form the name on my mind Martin…. I sigh again, contented.. I feel that he can be no nearer to my heart, even if not all is as we would wish it. God knows – how much baban is your very own. Diolch fy’n hariad.... I look at you again – Your father is the most beautiful man in the world, Blodyn. I may have sinned, but I will gladly take the sin for the gift it gives you. You are his – no one will rob you of that!


Thank you for "listening"! ;)
 
Thanks for sharing, Welsh. It was very beautiful :)


I have many memories of motherhood, and I will try to come back later and post some - haven't got the time right now!


Karoliina
 
What a beautiful memory (and I might add it was beautifully retold). Thanks for sharing this - reading it made me smile.


As of yet I have no memories of being a mother (or a father for that matter). I hope that I eventually do regain such memories and then know even better what you now know.
 
Nice reflections WA...


Nothing so bonding as love for children. THe woman who regressed me, Marcia Moore asked me at the end of my session what it was that was important to me in this life.. From deep down , with not having any sort of consciousness about it came a sigh as I spoke the words " the children" . Now so far none of my own but the younger generation have often set my heart on the right path ..


I remember strong bonds towards my family as a man in several lives.. an Indian chief , a French carpenter, an English minister.


Some of my memories as a woman have to do with loss and greif of losing children and the residual karma following. These memories made me move towards growing more in my own personal power as a woman this life .


One life as a North American native woman I witnessed my children lose their life while crossing a rickety bridge. In another I was blamed by my husband for my child of 8 dying in a water accident. And then there was the wrenching grief of dieing during child birth and knowing the person who would be responsible for my surviving child was someone I did not like.


So far I have had a hard time wanting children around me.. the guilt really did get to me and has made me hesitant to jump in. I pursued a short career as working in an after school daycare which I enjoyed.. but having the responsibility of having them full time felt too overwhleming . I can see how those past lives affected me and made me hesitant to jump in again. THe death of a young person is the worst.. How can God have planned that a person experience the world for such a short time??


In my experience men have it alot easier... but then the work women do rewards them with many spiritual benefits :thumbsup: .


soulfreindly
 
Good topic WA Heart, and thanks for sharing your memory of Katie, it's nice when you can remember those precious moments with a loved one, and you conveyed those feelings on to us so well with your post....thank you ~ :thumbsup:


I'm not a parent in this life, but I do have a few brief memories of having children of my own which I'm sure I've posted elsewhere in the forum, I'll have to go through my journal and find them and get back.


Chris ~ :)
 
I have one memory of being a mother. I'm pretty sure I posted it elsewhere too. I am a woman sitting in a rocking chair. It's almost completely dark, maybe totally dark, and I think it's late at night. I am waiting for my husband to come home. I think he's been gone for awhile. It's winter and a storm outside and I'm afraid he won't make it back. The floor is dirt and cold. I'm pretty sure we're living in a small cabin..somewhere. I get the idea that this is pioneer days. It's cold inside and I'm wearing heavy skirts and a shawl(?) maybe. I'm holding my baby tightly and she(?) is fussy. I think it was a girl. She's little and crying and I bundle her tightly and keep rocking her, staring at the door, waiting for him to get home.


Interestingly, the older my toddler gets, the more I feel as if he was that little baby in my memory. Not sure where that feeling comes from, but it's been on my mind lately.
 
W.A. Heart, thank you so much for sharing that - it was a lovely memory. :)


alaskanlaughter, I have a feeling your memory is of pioneer days too. While the "Wild West" wasn't perhaps as wild as movies make them out to be, there were certainly many dangers that could have led you to believe your husband might not make it home. Of course, it wasn't necessarily - you might have just lived in a rural area. (There's still people who live in cabin-like houses today.)
 
That's such a beautiful memory, Welsh. I can feel your contentment and happiness in the moment - ;) It's amazing how these little things come back to us, and how we can find such great joy and love in them again.


I’ve written before on the forum about my pl daughter, Elena. Some of my fondest memories are just of holding her late at night, or early in the morning and staring at her in wonder. To me, she was an incredible little gift. :D
 
Sorry for not getting back to this yet - but off topic I wanted to ask you about your new profile picture, Welsh: would you mind sharing its story?


Curiously,


Karoliina :)
 
Hei Karoliina!


:D I suppose there is a story - or maybe I should say stories :rolleyes: - behind the avatar picture.


It's a detail from a painting by Waterhouse called Boreas. I love Waterhouse and his depictions of the winds. I love the way he portrays women.


This particular scene reminds me of the many times I have stood by watching events unfold beyond my control. It reminds me of one life in Wales, very particularly too ;) . I was a strong and determined woman in that life - very much in control; but even then, well, you just can't control everything.


Boreas, the north wind - also brings memories of cold weather and northern scapes that I miss very much. :o
 
Do any new members have a memory of motherhood they would like to share? The mother-child bond is such a beautifully strong connection, I can see how those memories would remain emotionally powerful even centuries later... :)
 
A new life I recently became aware of...


That took place in Bothwell (?) Scotland, in the early 1300s. I was a heavyset (but not fat, more like big boned) woman named Adaira Jameson. She was married to a man named Marcas, and had two sons, Alasdair (nicknamed Alas) and Rabbie. Alas would make daisy chain necklaces for me to wear. We lived in a thatched roof cottage, near a village. (About a mile away, you could still see the village from the cottage). I wore a typical peasant dress (this was validated through Google Images).


In 1301, when Alas was 5 and Rabbie was 2 1/2, there was a small scale raid (so small it isn't in any historical documents) and the cottage was hit despite it being "off" the village. Both my sons were taken from me and I spent years mouring. (I don't remember how Marcas and I survived). I died in childbirth delivering a third child in 1308.


(Info marked with a ? means I'm still not sure about it. It may be subject to change).


This memory was triggered when I pondered why I felt so nervous hearing babies and toddlers cry in the Sims 3.


P.S., have any of you had memories triggered by video games (I'd like to know because video games seem like an odd place to find PL memories :confused:)
 
Last edited by a moderator:
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top