Dreaming

Last night I had a dream about a baby. That in and of itself is not surprising but because I have one at least once a week. However, I've noticed that lately they are becoming more and more real. I don't know if its because I think about it more or maybe its because I'm watching so many of my friends journey through motherhood and hearing their stories. It might be because I actually feel the end of our wait is in sight, though I hesitate to actually say those words out loud (or in type). I have an acquaintance that began her journey very similar to mine...waiting, loss, more waiting. However, when she was in my current position, she still had another miscarriage, a stillborn at 39 weeks and at least 2 more years of waiting ahead of her before God gave her a baby she got to keep. Regardless of why, the dreams keep getting more vivid. A few weeks ago, the little girl in my dream stared deeply into my eyes and I felt like I could see her soul. About 2 weeks ago, I dreamt I was actually breastfeeding my daughter and holding her lovingly. (Maybe that's a weird thing to dream about, I don't know.) Last night, I had a dream about a sweet baby boy. Its funny because most of my dreams feature a little brunette girl but every now and then, Parker Jr. will make an appearance, as he did last night. In my dream last night, I could actually feel the physical pains of having just given birth and the emotional pains of leaving him every time I sat him down. But through all of that, I just had an overwhelming sense of love. Even when I was changing a messy diaper and putting a new outfit on (definitely a weird thing to dream about), I was so happy. Like all the love I had contained in my heart for life had multiplied to the nth degree when he entered my life. As I was waking up, in the stage between sleep and awake, it began to dawn on me that it was just a dream. I shut my eyes so tight, grasping onto the feeling for as long as possible, hoping to catch one more glimpse of his sweet face before reality took it away.

Sometimes I wonder if all of this will help me to appreciate my children more in the future. I wonder if I'll take it for granted when I get to enjoy my children and love on them whenever I want to. I wonder if I'll remember this longing on the tough days. Or if all of this waiting will be like my first pregnancy, a distant memory of something that feels as if it almost didn't really happen, a memory worn away by time.

One thing I do know is that as I count down to my pending surgery (6 days), the one that will hopefully shed some light on why we've had such difficulty, I find myself excited instead of fearful. I really do feel joyful in hope, like there's something on the horizon that might put an end to this incessant waiting. I look forward to the day I discover I'm pregnant and all the fun things that happen in the 9 months to follow that moment but mostly, I look forward to bringing my sweet baby home and starting a new journey.