Birthday .. Deathday

[Guest guest]

I held a one day old baby boy in my arms the other day ..

perfect in his newness.

 

But as I held him I knew he was damaged. Part of his brain was

damaged. I shared my energy with his small body.

 

 

When his mother was pregnant she had told us she knew on some

level he was a boy and she just didn't want a boy. She wanted

another girl.

 

His 5 year old sister knew too .. she told us so ..

From the time he was conceived she knew.

But she had to play along with Mummy because, in her words,

"Mummy doesn't like boys".

 

So she pretended it was a girl too.

She knew the truth .. but had to please her mother.

 

Right up to when he was born, the Mother pretended it was a girl.

At the birth, she was genuinely shocked when it wasn't.

 

 

She had held the birth back. Held onto him until she finished

work. Held onto him until the day she decided he would be born.

 

Then aided by a shot of pethidine, she held back the contractions

because she didn't want to push.

 

Baby took over and literally catapulted out of her. If he hadn't

he may not have survived.

 

 

As I held him and allowed him to take whatever energy he needed ..

there was sadness. But for whom? He was alive and if the determined

line of his mouth was anything to go by, he would be very, very

strong.

 

I recognised the mirror in me.

 

 

I never got to hold my little brother. He never made it ..

mother miscarried .. twice ..

 

The shock of the first one left a heavy scar on the psyche of the

4 year old me. No wonder I scarred my forehead - twice in the same

place. My little brother died but I had known he existed .. even if my

mother could never have acknowledged him .. or accepted my knowing.

 

 

I also remember her horror when I was 18 and she thought she was

pregnant .. which was news to me because I thought she hated sex!

 

She told the family in hushed tones - as if we were in church. She

was shocked and recoiled when I gave her a big hug. She told the

family how 'strange' I'd been.

 

My little brother trying to get back in again ..

 

 

No wonder anunda meant so much .. in part he represented to me my

little brother lost .. twice. What a burden for the living to carry.

 

 

Dead babies projected on the living.

Dead relatives projected on the child.

 

 

My mother held me back before my birth. Two weeks of holding on ..

then her horror was compounded by the horror of having a child

born on Friday 13th.

 

 

It earned me a reputation of 'jinxed'. Great way to start life.

 

Plus, to her, as she so often told me, I was the image of a

mother- in-law she hated. A vile projection thrown my way since I can

remember .. that I looked like the "other Nanna".

 

 

Being held back and controlled has been my all pervading

unconscious program. Mother wants to own my life and everyone in it.

She still actively prays that I will 'come to my senses'.

 

I did ..but not her idea of 'senses'.

 

 

About now should be the anniversary of my real birthday ..

 

As my birthday gets closer - 2 weeks to go - my birth memories are

getting even stronger. the infant me's struggle to survive in the womb,

the physical exhaustion form fighting her body, feelings of being

smothered by her ..

 

 

Right through my own clearing process over the last few years,

Ihave feared Mother's will - alive in me .. and that cutting all of my ties

with her will end in death .. mine or hers.

 

 

My body remembers and aches. It aches from the internal fight.

 

Nanna wanted another child to replace the ones she lost.

and I was conceived through Nanna's prayers.

She was always praying for another baby.

 

My Mother was just a vehicle.

The incubator who became the incubus.

My Mother had to do what Nanna wanted. Always.

She never had any choice.

 

 

I have remembered.

These are all memories that are coming up out of my body as

a 12 monthly cycle repeats itself. I have inherited all Nanna's issues

and Mother's issues .. carried within my physical body

as part of my personality and psyche.

 

 

My struggle to break the chain seems like forever and I can now see

how the basis for reincarnation and reproducing in the same genetic line

is set up .. very incestuous.

 

Someone tried to tell me I chose my parents .. what a joke ..

 

I was prayed for and preyed on ..

created by the matriarchal projections of their own needs.

 

There was no choice for my soul ..

 

 

If my mother can't control me she'd rather I was a Saint ..

you get brownie points for Saints.

 

My conception was to fulfill generations of women obsessed with

their own soul's survival .. and redemption.

 

 

Bit like the baby I held .. small, damaged, jaundiced .. not what

my mother expected as her 'reward' .. alien to her.

 

In her eyes, I still am .. so she continually tells me.

 

 

It should be my birthday now .. but she had decided otherwise.

 

 

Her favourite saying is .. "we've just got to survive it all"

 

Now I know what she is talking about.

 

>> To be continued .. >>

 

 

Fiona Tulk

Hobart Tasmania

 

http://www.anunda.com/fiona.htm