Michael was my first born and only stillborn. He emerged back in 1993, 7 pounds, 3 ounces, with a tight knot in his umbilical cord. For years after his death and birth, I would occasionally have visions of a little blond boy around 2 or 3 years old, smiling, laughing, running in the woods. To me, he was an image of innocence and joy, not a particular person.
On All Souls’ Day, 2009, I was sick, broken down, lost and confused. I had been learning shamanic meditation and figured I’d give it a try. I asked to meet my spirit guides and helpers. As I began to meditate, the golden-haired boy appeared, smiling, happy as ever, and then he morphed into a red-faced crying newborn. In that moment, I realized that this was my son Michael. For the last 16 years, he had been appearing again and again, trying to get through to me. I finally understood and welcomed him back into my arms.
What followed was an intense experience of oneness and joy, a sudden understanding that the life-death barriers I had assumed were there simply did not exist. I detected a deep well of guilt and grief that had been quietly residing in me all those years. In an instant all of it was surrounded in forgiveness and compassion and completely released. The scene dissolved into tremendous radiance and bliss. And Michael remained with me.
The next day I attended a service at a Spiritualist church. I had never been before. During the part of the service when the minister offers channeled messages to individuals, she turned to me and said she saw a small spirit child sitting next to me very close.