Ghost Stories …. more memories of Isabeau

I know I shouldn’t write so much about Isabeau, especially as writing about her invariably see’s me in tears.  But still, I feel a need to document even the smallest thing about her.

A friend of Tony’s has an urban legends website, and one of the tabs on his page asks for ghost stories.  For some reason I considered putting my story up there, but hesitated.  His is a profoundly sceptical site (mostly with good reason), and regardless of whether my experience was real or not, I would prefer it not exposed to potential ridicule.  So I will record it here.

For weeks after I had Isabeau, I was waking regularly at 2am.  Friends said that it was probably the time when it would have been her night feed.   I would lie there and cry, knowing that my body was telling me to feed my baby, even if I had no baby to feed.

One night, I woke up and instead of the darkened room, I seemed to see something grey?  misty?  even now I can’t describe it.   Then, standing beside my bed, was my Nanny J, holding Isabeau wrapped in a pink blanket.  Behind her, sitting in a wheelchair, was Ma G, and she too was holding a baby, this time in a blue blanket.  Ma and her baby were not as clear, sort of out of focus, but they were there.  Nanny J said to me, “Silly girl, time to stop crying.  Don’t worry Sunshine, we will look after them.”  She then reached down, and brushed her fingers across my forehead, something she used to do when I was a child, and upset.   Its funny, but if anyone tries to do that now, I will instinctively flinch away, like its only something that Nanny J can do.

I truly believe that Nanny J and Ma came to visit, to reassure me that Isabeau and the baby I miscarried were safe and loved.  I know that I stopped waking up at 2am from that night.  I still grieve for Isabeau, but my subconscious understands that she is loved where she is, surrounded by her great grandmother and great great grandmother, and now her grandfather, who died last year.