Question about what happen when, if a child dies in past life

Hi everyone,

I've had a past life regression appointment and what came up has now and then flickered by but not been enough for me to grasp, really.

When I was a little girl and we would visit the grave yard my aunt always said I would run off and stay in an area where they had buried children who had died young, these children were not related to one another. I would be relieved that there would be no new baby or child buried there. I did not think this behavior could have any past life explanation. After all, I was then a child myself and I thought it was only natural I was feeling a kind of affinity there.

In my regression it was a very long time ago. I had been a female, married presumably. The name Petar came to me. I was first corrected, asking if it was Peter? but I went no, Petar. Later searched a little on it as I have not heard that name where I come from.

There was something wrong with our children. They were getting more sick than others, they were fragile, would die still in their childhood. The situation was filled with despair. Later when ask what was wrong first thing that came was a suspicious it came from water to me then saying no and "Blood", but I don't know if I knew in that life it was because of the blood or if this was a spiritual truth to the mystery behind it.

I would too keep pregnancy from him in the beginning, afraid to at first make him happy to then let him down if I miscarried, but too afraid he would be too intense with me when love making and I thought this could risk me loosing it, conflict emotions.

It felt as if I was a submissive wife, a product of my time.

There were the strong feeling that it was my fault with the children's illness and deaths and that he should have me replaced,if he could. I got the sense that if there was something wrong they always blamed the female for it. That I look for answers, but could not find any or it was the shame in the silence, the punishment.

I was too punishing myself.

He would drink, but I don't know if that was common or not. He would force me to drink, but I think it was because wanted me to feel better.

It felt as if my truth then was that only men drank, not women but that could have just been my perception in that life, I don't think I was that well educated or knew how things worked outside my radar, small world. So that was the feeling when he force me to drink, that it was man-poison only men could take or "devils' thirst", those kind of weird things to say just slipped out.

During the experience I was especially sure there was still something in the house, the spirit of one of the children (or more than one?) and the husband was angry with me for trying in some way to come in contact with it. There was something about this that came off, very much so. It was when I put down plate before dinner that made him very angry. I put it down in a determined way. I think it was one of the dead children's plate.

After the regression there has been things happening that remind me of the missing child or children, ghostly activities.

I wonder if my past life self could have been right?

What happens to children who die? Do they go straight to heaven due to protection and do to them simply being children or can they just like adults linger on if they simply were not ready to die or understand what happened?

Because of things that has happened before I can't say if it is something that is wanting to fool me to think it is this missing child or children or if it is truly the spirit or the spirits of one of the children or children?

If so did it or they find me through the regression?

What complicate it more is that I recognize the husband as someone in my life now and paranormal things has happened around us. It hurt to look into this person's eyes. I have never felt that with anyone else.

I have to practice now to do that so I will feel more at peace with this person, mentally, but what to do with the spirit or spirits?.

All I can say is that I have had it around me but it is low activity compared to what happens if and when myself and the past life spouse am around each other. Then it kicks off. It is the classic things: the playing around with electricity and doors and noises. It has startled us. Think I too am feeling watched, also as if something is around my legs at times or as if I am about to stumble on someone or that someone on me, so it feels close to physical too.

I really don't know if children spirits can be trapped like adults can or if they are always in the right place and can visit us when feeling like it?

I have thought of asking of help to bring the child or children (can't see...) to the light, but then I think maybe it or they will get hurt if I do that as if I have rejected it or them.

I do think there is something to it that it gets so "alive" when the past life husband and I seem to move around each other, but I don't know what it is that I am suppose to do about it?

I did not feel like the marriage was starting out as a failure but it was 99,5% arranged and we did not have to fall in love or any of that as long as we could work as a good team which I think was the original thought. It did feel to me that it was surprisingly happy before tragic struck. The husband was not like me. He was an introvert, but would be polite, a gentleman, and have a natural seriousness to him most time and gave impression to be grown up and have a sharp mind that was not maybe used to it's fullest potential where he then was at. He could show deep tenderness. He was no joker, unless I childishly joked with him (which I did) and then he was on, but it felt as if he felt more responsible for me, us, his family.

What to do if it is our past life child spooking around? Before this I have not had this kind of experience and not used to it seriously increasing it's activity when I meet someone else. So what ever it is it is not trapped to my home, for instance.

Please, anyone?

Hi

writing a reply on my own thread, ha ha...don't know if it is right or not to share this, but I still want to.

Had one of those nights with strange dreams and what have you. I was slipping in and out of it, just like my parents would say i would do when I was a young child and it would take me long time before I was finally out of it.

This time it came to me that the boy was the oldest of the living children and the one we thought was more healthy than the rest.

He would feel responsible for his younger siblings and also as the first born son to his father. He was not old but it was as if already at that age he felt responsible. He watch the siblings get sick and die and then we notice something was wrong with him too and then he died. He had tried to hide that he was not feeling well because he thought we were fully occupied to take care of the younger ones and that he thought he was at least more healthy than they were.

The blood-issue came up again and it is something today we know much more of, and easily treated when giving an injection to the mother having given birth so that the next baby would not be targeted as the mother's body's blood (rare type) would attack thinking it is the enemy; thus without the injection creating more and more sick and fragile children who die young, which is what happen those days. The strongest one of all the sick ones was then the oldest - in our case the boy.

The spirit of the boy lingered on out of the feeling of feeling responsible. That he was not allowed to die too.

He could feel our broken hearts and like his father knew I was the weakest in this as I blamed myself and his father could not see it from that perspective.
He could see how we were torn apart instead of becoming closer.

It was all meant to happen because in this life the father's mission is to work with what he works with today and he would not be able to do the good he does, have that mission in life, if he had not been where he has been.

I've learn where my before low confidence regarding my body originated from, not liking it in my lowest points and not understanding how others can think it is pretty - it came from that life when I blamed my body for only producing sick children and taking the blame for it. It became a metaphor.

It was almost as if this little boy was a kind of spirit guide to me in the dreams and it felt liberating and wonderful and awful all at once, to have this experience and I can't say what is true or not. I still feel liberated and blessed now, tired but in a good way. All the little pieces that had been swirling around in the air has now slowed down and set back to ground. And the air is different to breath.

Me and the husband in that life did not heal together and it is to the point today that, like I wrote before, it hurts to look into his eyes. Because of my mental issues in that past life which was the product from my grief in that life I hurt the husband, mentally, and that thick layer is still between us like an invisible wall that the boy with his spiritual tricks has tried to bring attention to.

The boy is not trapped and does not need help. This is just a piece of his soul.

Thanks if you read through all of this, guys

[WhiteWarrior]

An interesting read. I'll respond to the parts that call to me first.

Petar is a name used across Europe from Spain to Croatia. It is derived from Peter, of course, which also has found other forms. However it is known to be the male form. The female form is Petra. Incidentally my grandmother's name, but that is beside the point; you don't need to climb far up into an ancestry tree to find names that weren't written or used like they are supposed to. A lot of church staff could barely read and write.

To die is to pass on, leaving your body behind, and go to another place where you keep on existing and growing until the time you decide to come back or are sent back. It's just my understanding but it's what I have for now. While you are on the other side you have a link of sort to the place and people where you last lived and can go back for a brief moment to have a peek or say hello. But you don't stay a child. Considering international child mortality up to the 19th century, the afterlife would have been almost exclusively children at this point.

We, souls, travel along time in groups like peas in a pod. We keep bumping into each other all the time either we can sense it or not. So the child a past you once had, may be in your current life in a different role. Or they may be on the other side, peeking at you once in a while and be curious about what you are up to now. Or even be part of your team of guides.

Originally Posted by WhiteWarrior

An interesting read. I'll respond to the parts that call to me first.

Petar is a name used across Europe from Spain to Croatia. It is derived from Peter, of course, which also has found other forms. However it is known to be the male form. The female form is Petra. Incidentally my grandmother's name, but that is beside the point; you don't need to climb far up into an ancestry tree to find names that weren't written or used like they are supposed to. A lot of church staff could barely read and write.

To die is to pass on, leaving your body behind, and go to another place where you keep on existing and growing until the time you decide to come back or are sent back. It's just my understanding but it's what I have for now. While you are on the other side you have a link of sort to the place and people where you last lived and can go back for a brief moment to have a peek or say hello. But you don't stay a child. Considering international child mortality up to the 19th century, the afterlife would have been almost exclusively children at this point.

We, souls, travel along time in groups like peas in a pod. We keep bumping into each other all the time either we can sense it or not. So the child a past you once had, may be in your current life in a different role. Or they may be on the other side, peeking at you once in a while and be curious about what you are up to now. Or even be part of your team of guides.

Thank you very much for your answer :)

It has been quite the experiences with this. One moment there was a young man who's essence I felt stand further behind, the next I was my past life self and reaching up to him like a mother to a grown up son to touch his cheek, but overall it was just this little boy there. I don't know if it was my past life self ego always having imagining what he would look like had he grown up.

Just today at home we have particular children's shoes in plastic that are crocs and by itself it has begun to flip and change direction and there is nothing there to touch it or any wind or anything. The other shoes are left alone. The shoe has begun to behave this way as I was doing something and could see it in plain sight and even as I saw it I thought no, I can't be seeing right. It is not just turning over as if it has been balancing the wrong way, it is really moving on it's own and changing direction of the point where it is.

Perhaps those days they wore crocs in wood and it is the only type of shoes the boy recognize? I have no idea. I did not bring with me any experience during the regression of seeing shoes.

With the boy's father, reincarnated, all I can think of trying to make it right is by mentally conveying that I am very sorry for my bad behavior to him and for what happen to him.

It felt that I did not think too much of my own intelligence in that life, but was looked at as a kind little woman who would please her husband by working hard in the home and outside and show respect. I don't think I had any other mission in life than to be a wife and mother and no real value in myself to know I could do other things so when I thought I failed over and over again with the children the little self esteem I had was being shattered, more and more.

I think I looked at the husband as if he was perfect. That he was superior to me because of his intelligence, sharp mind which was not something i felt he would flaunt in my face and not really something that would be acquired of him either.

I feel ashamed for what happen to him because I think I drove him to it. All this time it felt like he was watching over me so I would not end my own life. I thought if I end my own life he would be free of me and to marry a woman who could bare him at least one child who would make it. But it was forbidden to kill one self.

we would sit at a kind of sofa and i would be in another world and he would talk to me but i would not register his words, any meaning to it. it look like i was pretty far gone on the mental list.

i think violence was not called violence in those days as we think of it today and there was this one scene where I put my hands out during a kind of argument as if i thought I was sorry or that he was entitled or that it was time for him to punish me by for example hitting me on the hands with something and i look down as i did it, but he didn't do it and he did not want to.

I think it went downhill pretty fast once I left and once I did not return as he had request. But I don't think I had ever expected it to happen. I had thought he was too strong. this because he had used what he had left to look after me, but I had not recognized even that this is what he had been trying to do.

What happen to him - suicide - is something I think I had carried with me forever since and comes in form of me being nervous if not getting hold of people or when someone drinks or what ever. He had naked feet when i saw him and this is all i remember, the naked feet. i could not even say suicide, but I knew it was suicide.

I am afraid I drove him to suicide because the only way for others to bring me in once i had left was if I said he had done something to me that he as a husband was not allowed and that was in the balance of the punishments.


If a husband went too far with the punishment of his wife he was socially not welcome.

In the scene that I saw I was the one to attack him, physically, and he the one to keep me on the rug so I would not hurt him or myself but unfortunately it caused marks as I kept on it like a wild animal trying to break free and I did it - knowing it would cause these marks. Had I been still it would not have happen, there would have been no marks. He was innocent and I made him the villain. I wanted him to despise me like I despised myself and get rid of me, but he wouldn't and so I left, ran off with the marks. The others would just tell me to go back home with him or if he came to get me I would have to go with him and I couldn't. I hated myself too much. I couldn't go back there. The grief was killing me. But it was our home. It was the only home to return to. No wonder he drank.

In my "clever" mind I thought he would be free of me, divorce me, despise me and find someone else, but afterwards I think I understood my felony. Only too late. I never meant to hurt him. He was the perfect one. I wasn't.

I think it taught me to always think of not going too far. I don't call people names etc in fights. I don't speak bad of people behind their backs. they say I am almost too sensitive about this kind of thing. I am always afraid that I will be part of or responsible for someone else having been socially disgraced. Like I did to him then. But I didn't know. I thought I was saving not only myself but him too, but I wasn't. I was sacrificing his good name in order to save myself.

[WhiteWarrior]

It sounds like a very common story, to be honest. The concept we have today of male-female relations is pretty much unique to human history. Your story could have been found in every street in every town in every country on the planet up to the 1950s or so. Only the man having a job and being the provider, and the whole world expecting him to be one. Every woman expected to be the perfect house worker. So much pain beneath the surface everywhere because people back then were just as twisted as modern people are, and they had neither the health workers or diagnoses or medicines or treatments that could do much about it. And where there were not perfection, there were shame. You seem like you are having to deal with what happened in this life too, which is a pretty bad deal. 'Forgive yourself' is the words I am hearing right now. I can only pass them forward to you.

The old wooden version of crocs were called clogs, but you probably knew that already.

Being struck on the hands was classic formal punishment, practiced at schools and considered one of the lesser punishments compared to the rest of the arsenal. With a ruler, or the classic pointing rod. Since the punishment was done in full view of class or family the shame was very much part of it.