Kisses from my baby
I missed Jamie so much, but he was closer than I thought… By Sabrina McKenna, 33
Tears trickled down my face as I stepped into my new house.
It should have been a happy moment, but my son Jamie had been stillborn just three days before.
Now, the day had arrived for us to move into our bigger ‘family’ home, which had a bedroom we’d intended for our newborn.
‘What shall we do with this room?’ my partner asked, as we ventured inside the empty little room.
‘I’m still going to make it into a nursery for Jamie,’ I replied.
I’d spent the last nine months dreaming about our baby’s nursery, and even though my little boy was no longer with us, I was determined to make it the best bedroom.
I bought a crib and as many stuffed toys as I could fit in my trolley.
Then, I painted the walls baby-blue, before placing his hand and footprints on the mantelpiece.
Creating the nursery was my way of grieving, and it allowed me to feel close to him. But my partner didn’t approve, and eventually we split.
I fell into depression. One night as I lay in bed, I heard a familiar tune coming from the nursery.
I got up to investigate, and found the music was coming from one of Jamie’s teddies.
The song Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star played when its belly was pressed.
But who could have set it off?
Then, a few weeks later, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I began to feel a strange tingling sensation on my face.
It started happening most evenings, but I couldn’t explain what was causing the sensation.
Both my mum and I had previously encountered the spirits of deceased loved ones, and I began to wonder if Jamie was trying to reach me.
I went to a medium to try to find some answers, and she quickly connected with Jamie’s spirit.
‘He wants you to know the tingles you’ve been experiencing are his kisses,’ she told me.
I burst into tears.
She confirmed that my odd experiences around the house had been the work of my boy.
‘He says he’s safe up in heaven with Margaret and Annie,’ she continued. I frowned.
I didn’t know a Margaret or an Annie, but brushed it off.
But when I relayed my session to Mum later, her jaw dropped.
‘Margaret and Annie were your grandad’s sisters,’ she said.
I couldn’t believe it, I felt so lucky that my boy had family looking out for him up there.
Over the years, I’ve learnt to
communicate with Jamie’s spirit.
He would be turning 12 this year, and I still keep his bedroom, which is now fitted out with a big boy’s bed and superhero posters.
Now that he’s becoming a teenager, I don’t feel his kisses as often.
In time, I’ve learnt to cope with Jamie’s loss, and my life is better.
But I hope he knows he’ll always be my special little boy.