Spirit Child. Spirit Mother

There is this deeply profound account on IG called PaperBark Death Care. One of the her recent posts really sparked something in me.

She was commenting on spirit babies. Children born dead, and how it’s a little talked about area of death care.

It got me thinking about the parents, and the word “spirit baby.”

I have a “spirit child”, not a spirit baby.

So does that make me a spirit mother?

What am I?

There is no word for a parent who loses their child.

There is a word for someone who looses a spouse: widow

A word for someone who looses their

parents: orphan.

We live in a world of labels.

Labels can be helpful. They can help us feel less alone. Help us understand ourselves better.

But they can also box us in.

I have fought against getting “boxed in” during any part of this journey.

I don’t want to trauma bond with suffering concepts.

So I’ve tried to just stay present and experience what arises for myself.

I’ve read very little. I haven’t joined groups. I don’t have frequent conversations with other grieving parents. (Though if the need arises I reach out)

Early in my grief walk, people told me there might be a word for parents of loss: a “vilomah”

A Sanskrit word that means “empty, against the natural order”.

I can see the appeal of this word.

Though his death indeed felt against the natural order, I’m not sure it actually was. Not when taken in it’s full context.

In its full context everything is more mystical and mysterious than something that can be defined by a single word, concept, or idea.

Grief is so full of paradoxes.

My arms are empty, yet I feel like I’m carrying this galactic size love, that reaches across dimensions. Full.

There is so much pain, but at moments it’s ecstatic. Especially when we connect.

Indescribable.

But “spirit mother” …. that’s interesting.

I don’t want a word that denotes something of value. A women who is empty isn’t really something I’m keen to identify myself as empty.

I’d prefer something neutral. Or something that takes the paradoxes into account.

I don’t know if it was premonition, but prior to Tanner’s death, I created a series of transmissions on 5 different archetypes of the Feminine.

The one that felt really exciting and activating was “Akhalinda”.

She is the Goddess of “Never not Broken”. But broken from Her lens is the kind that lets the light in. The kind that adds dimensionality. The human kind. In other words, the brokenness is neutral.

There’s a way this feels true. I know I will feel the magnitude of His loss and the longing to see him again for the rest of my life.

But there is life here. In the in-between spaces. I can live with and alongside the pain.

Akahlinda reminds me that there is nothing to fix or get over. That I’m not “healing” my grief. The whole thing “just is”.

Isn’t that the truth about most things? The real truth? That we can’t heal (aka conquer) a lot of things we’ve encountered or experienced? They simply become part of who we are?

I’m living with loss and a heart that is so broken open I can feel the bottom. It’s beautiful, painful, and raw.

That’s what is real.

I’m a the mother of an incredible spirit. A “Spirit Mother”, an Akhalinda. I’m Damascena. And this is my life.

*Please follow paperpark death care on IG. There is so much depth and beauty in her work.

I’ll link in the comments.

Artist unknown to me.

#death #childloss #grief #spiritbaby #spiritmother #akahlinda #archtypes #widow #orphan