It was just a phase I was telling myself. I felt confident about his nightly cries finally end some time soon. But it was taking longer than expected. We had been holding him for four months when things finally got better.
Meanwhile I had tried everything. Was he hungry? Was he teething? Did I need to learn him adjust to our schedule by letting him cry as someone told me? I did not know. I just felt that he needed us. That he needed my comfort. I could see how tired he was and how much he was longing for sleep. But something was waking him up.
I was bringing him to bed when I started singing him to sleep. Suddenly I could see and feel what had happened to us lives before. I saw myself in a big bed in a room of an old castle. It was the middle ages. I had just woken up. I was a young woman. A young mother. Someone was bringing me my child. He was just some months old, like my son now. And it was him. He had been sleeping somewhere else and taken care of by the nurse. The nurse was handing me my baby silently. I looked at my boy. And he was dead. He felt cold. I was in shock. What had happened? I had loved my boy so much. He was my first child. I was a young and proud mother. Nobody did want to tell me what had happened. But as his mom I could feel it. He had been murdered. Poisoned. By the other wife of my husband. He had married me because she was not able to give him children. She was jealous of me. Because he had replaced her by me. Because she did not get any attention anymore. But most of all because I did give him a child. The child she should have had. And it was a boy. She could not live and see this. She hated me for having his child. So she decided to murder my child and avenge me. I never gave birth again. I have been mourning about my baby. No one spoke about it again. He had just died naturally. But I knew this was not true…
Now I could see why I felt so scared of loosing my child. Being afraid of him not waking up in the morning. Being afraid he had died when falling asleep carrying him around in a sling. It was my past life memory which had triggered me over and over again. My fear did wake up my little boy at night. For several times. He wanted to assure me that he was all right. It was his way to tell me he was still alive. He was doing this for me!
I told him it was ok now. That I understood what we had been trough lives ago. I told him he could go back to sleep. That there was no one poisoning him. That I would take care of him. That I was close by. And that we were safe now. No one was after us. We were ok.
Since then he is sleeping again. Sometimes he is hungry and cries to be nursed. But soon after he will be back to sleep. We don’t need to hold him for hours. It is just finished. That life is not harming us anymore. We are ok. We are all right. We are all sleeping again.