The Light Between Us
“Energy cannot be created or destroyed; it can only be changed from one form to another.”
— Einstein
I’ve been so blessed to birth four beautiful children into this world. All bursting with individuality and personality but with a strong thread of similarity in mannerisms and behaviour that weaves them together as siblings and friends.
Motherhood has certainly not been straightforward, the stork failed to deliver the manual each time and in my delirious sleep deprived state I often found the demands of motherhood overwhelming and exhausting. However, there is no love like it. It’s a love that sparks into life as soon as that umbilical cord is created from a mass of DNA and stardust, the unbreakable thread of life connecting mother and child together.
My third child, Rex died suddenly and unexpectedly during an afternoon nap. Rex had been unsettled and restless the night before and we’d ended up squeezed on the sofa with his little arms holding us tightly, Rex was content. The significance didn’t hit us until his unexpected death less than 24 hours later. At least we had had those special few hours holding him together. That morning, he was tired from a broken night’s sleep, as were we all but he was well enough to be jumping off the sofa onto a beanbag singing ‘to infinity and beyond’. He later seemed tired so went down for an afternoon nap. When we went to wake Rex from his sleep we were confronted with every parents’ worst nightmare – Rex wasn’t breathing. Rex was pronounced dead a few hours later.
He was a gregarious happy toddler who attracted an audience wherever he went. He had a smile that could light up a room, a contagious giggle, and deep brown eyes you could dive into and disappear. His siblings adored him and were looking forward to growing up with him and sharing their future together. In an instant his life force transformed into spirit. His death has been my heart opener, a trauma no parent should have to bear but one which led to what some call a ‘post-traumatic growth’. My world as I knew it crumbled in an instant, I became muddled, disorientated and drawn to the darkness of grief. During the initial days I was able to visit Rex in the chapel of rest and read his favourite bedtime stories to him. I’d stroke his cheeks and kiss him goodnight. It always felt so hard to leave him there alone.
There were no immediate answers, but Sudden Unexplained Death was mentioned as a possibility.
I searched the internet for an explanation and found The Lullaby Trust and The SUDC Foundation in the US. Both were wonderfully supportive and connected us with a community that understood such loss. In the weeks that followed I had to do something constructive, so I focused on fundraising for a retrospective research study into Sudden Unexpected Death in Childhood at GOSH which The Lullaby Trust was spearheading. It felt like if I could help find answers no other family would have to go through such a tragedy. With the support of family and friends and another family’s fundraising efforts the funds were achieved, and research began.
Nature became my crutch to lean into as I stumbled along her sometimes in silence and other times whaling. Both hands on the earth, I’d kneel and weep into her arms as she held me. But there was also a surprisingly steely strength that I found within me that willed me on, a new appreciation for life and its delicacy. I’d shake the grief off and walk back into the house and make supper as if it was just another ordinary day. I wasn’t afraid of the kids seeing me grieve, but they also needed normality and stability so they could sleep soundly at night.
Our friends and family went beyond measure to support us all. School mums took it in turn daily to deliver a delicious home-cooked meal for weeks. We bought a puppy; she was and still is adorable bringing with her so much unconditional healing love for all.
Community Coming Together
A beautiful friend organised a fundraising walk, in memory of Rex, to raise money for a playground in our village. This year will be our 7th Community walk remembering Rex and it’s a really uplifting occasion bringing the community together. We also hosted a magical memorial concert six months after Rex’s death showcasing some of the most extraordinary young local musicians and international young stars at our local church raising further funds for research into SUDC. I went on to co-found SUDC UK, a UK charity affiliated with The SUDC Foundation to fund research into SUDC and support families affected by this medical mystery. We celebrate our 5th anniversary in November 2022 and have raised over £200K in memory of all children affected.
As the weeks and months passed in a haze, I began to form a beautiful relationship with my son across time and space. I’d read a book called ‘The Light Between Us’ by Laura Lynn-Jackson and the imagery she portrayed so beautifully of how souls are connected via an eternal thread of light resonated deeply. For me it was the cosmic umbilical cord of love – the Fibonacci spiral of life connecting us through a divine matrix of quantum energy fields. I began seeing ladybirds in unexpected places as if they were messages from beyond. Quickly, I adopted the ladybird as my Remembering Rex logo. Rex was walking beside me; he didn’t want me to be sad but to embrace the grief, to sit with it and learn its rhythm so that new chapters of life could be birthed through it.
Conventional bereavement therapy didn’t always resonate so I turned to complementary therapies and practices including reiki, soul contract work, breathwork, inner child work, medical intuition, soul counselling, shamanic soul coaching, somatic therapy and EMDR therapy. I could write a blog of my experience with each of them! I owe so much to these beautiful teachers and guides who held and supported me throughout our sessions and encouraged me to trust my own wisdom, align with what resonated for me and heal. All of them offered me something unique and I hope to enrich my own work with their wisdom.
The healing brings light, but it doesn’t mean I no longer grieve deeply.
I continue to surrender to its rhythm of waves as it comes and goes, trusting that it will release its grip and the light will flood back in with a new message of hope.
As for Rex, he is my guide, my teacher and if I sit silently in the stillness, I can see his wise soul ushering me forward on my journey to expand exponentially, to have the courage to be me and share it with the world. I wouldn’t wish child death on any parent, but I owe this epic journey through the darkness to find the light to that “golden thread that weaves its way through the tapestry of creation” the umbilical light cord uniting my son and I for eternity and beyond and I feel overwhelmingly blessed.
