Windows to the Soul


When I was 19 I travelled from Ireland to America to work for a summer. It didn’t work out too well as I had to have my appendix out and return home. As I was leaving the family I was staying with – who were old friends – bought me a leaving gift. It was a mix of two things I loved, a music box with an Ernie on it. It plays a beautiful tune and has, until recently always brought me back to those times.

The music box stayed at my parents house for 22 years until my children found it and decided it was better in their care.

A mix of things made me look at this music box in a new shining light.

Firstly, my children’s eagerness to have this little toy at home with us. Something that has laid gathering 22 years worth of dust has found its purpose again. Something simple that gives us now-moments of smiles and giggles.

Secondly, we went to feed my parents dog (they are away for a few days) – who had been inside his little shed all day with no company. He burst out bounding around all long-limbed and gallopy, delighted to have company again. My son said something that really got me. He said “We see you”, like the dog was validated, his joy was received by us, his loneliness was understood and he could move through that a little.

As I have sat for a while listening with others to my baby’s soul beam, a few more things have emerged.

I am like the duck with Ernie. I am swimming around in my pond being all duck-like, going where I need to at a super fast pace, bottoms-upping when things get a bit much, looking at the murky depths of things for nourishment. Then life changes things over time, though it seems sudden, and I am aware that I should stop and open to something, something more nourishing that has a different source.

I see this big Ernie-like thing watching me, totally accepting of me, in awe of me and my waddle-some ways. Waiting, just waiting for me to notice.

When I do, when I take the time, I begin to listen and settle with what he brings. Patience, kindness, love, acceptance. He is unwavering in his presence. Just sitting waiting for me to see, knowing that someday I will look up.

And I have.

I shake my tail feathers a little and nestle into this watchful presence. Receiving what he brings. And when I look up for long enough, I begin to see. And we begin to see each other. And the basking in the soul’s gaze begins. Reciprocal appreciation.

My body is changing daily as I rest in him and receive. My eyes are changing, my brain is widening, neck and shoulders too. My sense of alert, the adrenaline charge that has sustained me for so long seems to be quietening a little, fear lessening. Things seem to be doing that they need to allow for continued gazing, receiving and awakening.

And his presence is changing too somehow,to an Ernie / Ernetta, seeming to hold all that is masculine and feminine and beautiful and knowing and connected.

This in turn allows me to experience my sacred and luscious feminine. All the while vulnerable and strong, open and motherly. Laid bare to be seen in my yin and yang.

Somehow, this ‘seeing’ reminds me that there is seeing and accepting all around me in this life. My children and husband see me truly, warts and all. We are all here, seeing each other, mirroring love and life. Humanity views.

And now, the sweet tune from the box symbolises the present, the now, the music of seeing and receiving of each other in earthly life and through the beam.

© Oct 25 2105

Living in the Beam

tumblr_miv39gxOEW1r3a6jho1_500I started this website with a tenuous but very present connection to the soul of the baby I wait for. I started it to give voice to, and share some personal pre-conception, pre-natal awareness, and to invite others to share in that too.  The name of the website came as a jumble of words that my husband and I merged together. It just sounded right and gave the right imagery to things and resonated with me somehow.

The day after I wrote  The lonely end of the rainbow, and still during my miscarriage, I had another session with beautiful Shelley. The session was deeply meaningful and personal and very, very  awesome. There was so much to take in and to rest in, but one piece I feel is nice to share, is how my mish-mashing of words for the website came to be validated.

Instead of there being a sense that these were words we plucked randomly from somewhere, I am now fully aware of the beam I rest in, connected so intricately and immaculately to my baby’s soul. It is a beautiful place to be. It is vast and kind and comfortable and joyous, and I feel it now as clearly as I feel wind against my skin or ground against my feet.

It is like we had been guided to put these words together before the truth of them could be known.

So, while my body and ‘feeble’ mind continues to come to terms with the absence of my baby’s body, the absence of pregnancy……. I rested briefly in the beamy light and this is what emerged:


Living in the Beam

Taking time to listen, hear, open, believe.

Allowing the body to truly receive,

In a place where tiredness is.

In a place where my womb is emptying.

Where my bodymind readjusts to the loss of you

and rejoices in the finding of you again.

And They say how to manage,

and They say what to do

But I feel the connection, the love, the You.

So I ride in the troughs of grief and

dance on the frothy white crests of hope

And when I really hear You,

You say “Less fear please, I’ve got this one.

Watch, settle, wait, receive. There is time.

There is magic happening. Quiet, stunning, magic”.

Challenging to fully surrender to this,

But I know I can


Before, I conceived of You, as only in a dream

Now, You show me, You live me, Baby Soul Beam


© October 19 2015

The lonely end of the rainbow

Today, on ‘Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness day’ and a couple of days after I wrote ‘Trusting the baby in the tweed jacket’  I lost my baby.

I should say, we lost him 5 months ago too, and were so happy when I became pregnant again, feeling that this was his chance to come in as he needed to.

I say ‘lost’, because that is my sense of it. He is lost to me physically, and yet there is the hope that I will find him again physically. I felt the energy of him about me through the whole process, and I do yet. But I had been confused about the Trust in the last post because of the feeling / not feeling sense of where my baby was at.

This morning, before we went to the hospital, as I felt my womb become less-pregnant, I asked for a sign that my little one was OK. I felt him all around me, and then from the playroom, one of those weird talky-toys left in a corner under a heap of teddies randomly said ‘Hello!’… OOOOeeeeeooooo

At the hospital they did a scan. This tiny, tiny dot on the screen that had stopped growing was our baby. The doctors hedged their bets as they said he may continue to grow, but I knew this part of the story was over. And yet, as we floated through the daze of bumps and heartbeats that were not ours, I felt him around me still. A vast presence wrapped around my belly.

In the car, we talked about our oldest child, who – at 3 years old- shortly after we found out we were expecting again had said “Mam, its time for there to be a baby swimming in your belly now”. And our 20 month old, who had randomly started kissing my belly every night. How just recently my older child said ‘There’s a baby in that belly now mammy”.  We agreed that, if they asked, we would tell our babies that this little one had just gone on holiday and will be back in my belly soon again.

When I got home, I felt as though we needed to let our baby go back to the stars and sat outside in the autumn sun, with our dogs, my husband pottering around, coming to hold me, and we asked the ancestors to guide him and be with him. I came in to rest, and here, I felt him again, around me as he has been for so long.

I was confused again. Its like he’s an energetic boomerang. And while it made me happy, I was so confused. Here is my womb weeping and expelling the physical body of my baby, cramping, telling me this pregnancy is gone from us. And between the cramps, I feel something like renewal, and the presence that is unwavering and faithful to the end. The heart energy that I feel so much in my work is there, the orbs of connection that are beyond boundary are strong.

My brain shouts ‘SHUT UP! This can’t be!’ The old me who resides a lot in her head. There is the vibrant redness that symbolises life-ending and life-sustinance all together. The end to the nervous knicker-watching of the past few days, and what really shouldn’t feel like a new beginning. It’s all just odd.

And then there is the grief. The sadness for the face I have seen so often when I close my eyes. The sadness for my husband’s sadness. The sadness of the giddy excited-ness of meeting my baby and it being kissed and slobbered on by parents, siblings, relations and dogs alike. The sadness of that feeling of not-being-pregnant anymore. Just me. Alone again. Being one.

And in the grief, Boomerang Boy pops up. Like a horizontal disc, or plane of awareness around my belly. So I sleep and hope the process goes quickly.

In the evening I heard from Shelley. She is wonderful. She has guided me through all of my pregnancies and the previous miscarriage. Together over the past few months we have shared our similar impressions of this little soul. She has been unwavering in her trust of this being. I am too weary to speak but she sits with our story herself and sends me a recording of her impressions. They resonate so much with me and help me find the trust again. She feels how much this little one is turning my understanding of what is ‘normal’ inside out. This is the reason I am able to write in this sleeplessness.

This is the reason I am able to write the following:

Microsoft Word - Sombrero Galaxie im Sternbild Jungfrau.doc

Trust in(side )Sadness

My little lost love,

You wear me as a tutu of energy all around me

Twinkly, full of vibrancy, full of the dance.

My body is unsure and my brain is old-school – thinking too much.

And you twirl around me, making my understanding dizzy

And you spin a torus to the stars,

sparkling this way and that.

Your tiny earthly body leaving now

My body mourns your absence.

Tweedy Tiny Teacher, wise as wideness.

I still don’t understand why, but you say ‘Trust!’

And I try to park my grief, and follow your lead

Breathe. Release. Like the tides,

the current of the unknown will bring me back to you in time.

Healthy, strong, creative and full of love.

Your Mamma is waiting.



© October15 2015



Trusting the baby in the tweed jacket

SO I and my wonderful pre-natal supporter had a session yesterday….

I had a lot going on in daily life, and at 9 weeks pregnant, connection to my little one was a bit nebulous at times. Busy home life, busy work life. I suppose I didn’t give myself credit for hearing the communication that was happening in other ways and I was returning to that biochemical-physical need. The doubting Thomas – wonderings like: ‘Why aren’t I feeling sick with this pregnancy? Why am I only experiencing some tiredness and why oh why aren’t my symptoms reducing me to a heap of groaning drain on the sofa, unable to communicate with others / play with my children / make dinner / be a super-woman?

My ‘Witness’ and Space Holder (who works in pre and peri natal fields) reflected that I have done so much self-work that maybe the intuitive self was getting there, getting stronger, and that things (emotional / physical) might be clearer in this pregnancy?

I spoke of how my growing embryo seems to communicate at a different level, like a philosophy student in a tweed jacket. There is such wisdom and a real clarity of light, and connection to a higher realm. I had been reading what Wendy McCarthy (Welcoming Consciousness) said about the different levels of communication and I realised that this is transcendental rather than a physical / body communication. That made me feel better.

I spoke of how guilt seems to be my M.O. Guilt about not being the best mother, guilt about how everything I do is impacting my little one, and my 2 children. How I was struggling with just being a good-enough mother. I feel I can differentiate on some levels between what is mine and my baby’s but I wondered if it will still affect him/her? My Witness reflected that being and showing ‘human’ is also important and it allows the baby to experience that of me and of the world it is coming into.

I related some stories of how my older children seem so good with things, how they can communicate through shock or frightening times, how they tell me their fears and their joys – verbally and non-verbally, and my Witness suggested; Hey, maybe I am not doing such a bad job after all!

We settled with intention. What is my intention today? It became ‘connection to my growing baby, or trusting the connection that I have as much as I feel the little one seems to trust it’.

We settled into the process and I found there seemed to be a ‘trampoline’ between my upper body and my womb, a protector, a divide to help the baby not soak ‘me’ up so much. I didn’t want it to feel the sadness and anger and trauma that I feel sometimes, so there was this trampoline there to bounce it all back up to me. Beneath the trampoline, the baby lay, so vast and free, in its little tweed jacket, being all philosophical, looking at its wise little toes, being with everything and nothing and knowing of its OK.

So what did my body need my Witness asked?

TO TRUST! Trust that the feelings I was having were ok. The baby is OK and the doubting Thomas part of me could just rest, be quiet for a while. And what can resource you? My family, my husband and my children. The love.

What is getting in the way?

Well, as it turns out, it was my mind. The thoughts, the brain, the constancy of them trudging along. And so the process began. I was in the womb, looking towards this fuzzy light, wanting to go there. My sense was that it was more star-like than earth-like. But it disappeared and I was here alone in the dark. I became so aware of my eyes, my nose, my frontal bone, tension and twisting. Third eye knarling inward…

My body movements were all head, looking this way and that. Seeking, searching something. Left to right left to right. Then another light, harsher, more fluorescent. I did not like this light. And the tunnel came into view then, but I was tired.

The birth canal lay in front of me but man, I was stuck, my body was trying to move and stuck stuck stuck. I didn’t like this. Head butting this cervix that wasn’t for budging. And the silence…. ( I should say here my mother is deaf and this has come up in several guises in sessions, mostly represented by silence – though she can talk, but it feels like the silence of my own voice).

And so, there was a sense of cells slowly quieting even more, pins and needles and then sleepiness. The epidural takes its hold. So groggy. Groggily going nowhere and, not really caring too much about that. My witness suggests placing my hands on my head and allowing whatever needs to be.

So tight… so tight…. hands come down squeeeeezing my forehead, eye. Squish. Here is my neck so tightly held. And I feel bewildered. And I feel my umbilicus, my belly button being tugged and I really don’t like that. And here is a shoulder and finally I can stretch and move that arm. Another shoulder. More physical freedom. But I feel so quiet and with no voice. Stretching up and out here I am. But there seems to be no trumpet sound, no whoops of joy, no applause, not even an exclamation mark. Quiet. And I feel so worried and anxious in this newness and almost… suspended.

What is this worry?

Its my cord. Its my mouth. I can’t breathe. Can I breathe? Where is breath? What is breath??? This was the silent worry of waiting for nourishment. Pause.

And suddenly, so suddenly, I fill up with breath with lungs and a nose is there. It breathes too. It is a little cold. And I am cold. But here are these lungs inside filling and emptying. This is a different sense.

And then, with this breath, I have awareness of my 41-year-old body with my baby and the trampoline has some room to move and expand. My baby can breathe too. There is connection in the physical realm, but there is trust of the transcendental too. And all the while, my baby lies back, tiny leg-stumps crossed (almost) and basks in the mammas renewed awareness of the trust that this little being has been floating in all along.

And my baby body again is here, exploring its mouth and head. Poking and turning slowly. Still quiet. Still wondering what has happened, but seems more OK in the quiet now. Belly doesn’t hurt. Eyes can open. They are wider. There still seems to be a sense of numbness and I feel it as an OK nothing.

And we leave the session here, being able to breathe and see and being OK in that. Being able to trust that both sets of senses are OK, the physical and transcendental.

I feel my womb with my hands and sense presence. I feel so so tired, but glad of the journey to breath and back to Trust.

I slowly go back to my kitchen, and my children smile and look at me differently. They see love. I see love and feel wide and grateful and happy. I rest a while and we do bedtime all together. I feel lighter. My husband says he can sense the baby more (and he never says things like that). My children kiss my belly. My son asks if there is a baby in there.

The evening is felt physically with stretching and good cramping and this continues. My baby has more growing room and is having a field day with this new space, and this knowledge that his mother has tuned into trust again.

And I feel as though the experiencing of what’s mine and his can be healthy, though I now see more clearly how my changes and the differentiation within that are good for my baby’s being. We can both breathe. And we can both Trust.


© October 2015