I’m twenty-six weeks pregnant this week. Woo hoo!! I’m officially two-thirds the way through the pregnancy. It is amazing how fast it is going!
And thank heavens, I’ve been blessed with a relatively uneventful pregnancy. As any woman who has been pregnant can attest, pregnancy is not easy but at least I have been spared the pains of intense morning sickness, constipation, weird cravings and having to run to the bathroom every hour. In fact, there were times early on when if it hadn’t been for the extreme exhaustion I would have doubted I was even pregnant.
I’ve been lucky… but there is part of me that has also been disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, I love the movements I feel in my belly and knowing that there is a life growing inside of me. But I thought, being sensitive, I would have an extra special connection with my baby and be able to hear and talk to her. I’ve been able to do it with other people’s babies, why not my own?
That could be my own selfish desire. And, I can’t deny there have been many times when she has spoken to me. She’s told me, “Don’t eat that,” “Roll over! You’re squishing me,” and my personal favorite, “Stop poking me… You won’t? Well take this” followed immediately by a sharp jab to the bladder. Each time I hear that small, opinionated and demanding voice – it is ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL… but, at the same time I'm somewhat disappointed. I hoped my baby and I would have amazing, philosophical conversations and would be able to connect on so many deep levels creating an extra special bond.
When it comes down to it, I guess I have to face the fact that I’m ordinary, just like any other mom to be. My ability to connect spiritually does not give me any edge to getting to know my baby to be… I’m Mom, and baby and I will have a lifetime to get to know each other.
Being a medium may sound glamorous, and at times it is. As withes anything else in life, there comes times when I love it, but that doesn’t always mean I always like it.
As a child, being a medium was especially challenging. Kids can be cruel (at more than one slumber party I was locked in the basement) and my grandfather used my fear to punish me (I was dropped off in a cemetery once!). This came to a head in middle school, for it was during those awkward years that I, for the first time, lost people close to me: my grandfather and a childhood friend, Alice.
I was eleven. No child at that age has the emotional intelligence necessary to fully process the significance of death. The loss of grandpa and friend was complicated in that both were still hanging around!
I was confused, scared, grieving, all the things a child dealing with death goes through. And, I didn’t understand why grandpa and Alice were still there. They were dead. Adults in my life told me death is permanent and until I go to heaven, I wouldn’t see them again. I believed them. For one, they were smart, they were adults. Two, the people I lost previously, albeit they weren’t close, didn’t come around and visit. So I had assumed grandpa and Alice should be reunited with family and friends on the other-side.
I wondered why grandpa and Alice were still here. Were they evil and not going to heaven? They did after all feel different from the other spirits I had encountered. If they were evil, did that mean they could hurt me? The spirits I had always encountered emanated love and would go away if I asked. Grandpa and Alice did not.
Older and wiser now, I understand that initially after a person passes they typically “hang around” for at least his/her funeral or memorial service, sometimes longer. Some may call them “earth bound,” but as an eleven year-old child I thought they were “ghosts” who were “haunting” me for something terrible I had done.
What was so horrible that I could have done you may ask? I knew before grandpa and Alice went that were going to die that day. I remember hugging grandpa when he left on Thanksgiving and him telling me for the first time, “I love you,” that he was going home to die and then sitting on the top of the stairs when the phone rang that it was Grandma Pat with the news. I also remember the day Alice, she yelled at me in the lunch room that “I hate you” that I should apologize because I wouldn’t have another chance. Through my grief I felt guilt and responsibility.
This guilt was compounded for whenever I said anything about my grandfather or Alice’s passing, teachers and students gave me concerned, funny looks. To assist in dealing with the loss, my English teacher had us write and present a paper on how we dealt with sadness and who supported us most in dark times. I spoke of meditation and my spirit guide to which I received stifled laughs and snickers. My Science teacher also delivered a potent message to the class, telling us we were not to “make up tall tales or speak ill of the dead” and “no one could know this would happen.” All the while she looked in my direction. After those two incidents, I shut up and tried to ignore my gift.
Despite the negative feedback I received in school, I continued to benefit from the support of my family. After my grandfather’s passing, Eugene (my grandfather’s cousin) took me aside and comforted me. He informed me that like me, he knew grandpa was going to die and that Lois, my grandmother was waiting for him. He also told me it would be ok. It made me feel better, but I also knew at that time I needed to keep things quiet. It’s at that point I decided to fly under the radar, which I did for many years.
If you were to talk to my mother or aunt about my abilities, they would tell you it all started early. They’d then most likely tell you a story of when I was about six months old. At that time, my aunt lived with my parents and I. She appreciated the cheap rent and my parents appreciated the extra set of hands. All three parents changed my diapers, fed me, bathed me, and comforted me in my times of distress – which according to my mother was all the time. I was a high maintenance baby, to which I am certain my husband would say, “Not much has changed.”
Out of convenience, my nursery was a small room situated between the master bedroom and my aunt’s. When I would rouse during the middle of the night (I wasn’t a very good sleeper I’m told), my mother or aunt (my father has ALWAYS been a heavy sleeper) would go in and coo me back to sleep. But, I digress.
To continue with my story, one night, like many others, I awoke and began fussing. Soon after, my mother heard a woman offering soothing words and me babbling right along with her. Glad my aunt was taking care of me and she didn’t have to get out of bed, she turned over and went back to sleep.
Over coffee the next morning, my mother, with much gratitude, thanked my aunt for attending to me. Astonished, my aunt exclaimed, “I didn’t go to her! When I heard you talking to her, I turned over and went back to sleep.”
My life as a medium had begun.
Today, my aunt and mother question how many times the kind woman, whom they believe was grandmother, came in and attended to me. Had it not been for my mother’s gratitude that morning, they may never have known. Spirit operates in interesting ways.
Dawn Lynn is an EveryDay medium. She lives and breathes via her intuition, which as a fourth generation intuitive from a family of Spiritualists came easily. Her abilities became apparent in early childhood and were cultured by a supportive family. Through her Blogs and Vlogs, she wants to help you become the EveryDay medium too.