Anyone that knows me knows that I have some bizarre dreams. Most of them make me laugh and think “What the heck was THAT about!?!?”. Most of them I can explain why I had the dream I did – events, TV or conversations of the day prior. But last night I had a dream that really made me feel out of sorts. I dreamt I was pregnant and about to give birth. I know why I had this dream – working on my book, writing an entry for Chicken Soup books and people I love that are all having babies in the next few months. In my dream I was excited about having a baby. Mike was with me in the hospital, my Dr. was good looking and super funny. I had a baby boy. So many odd parts to it that I wont bother going into. Normally I would shrug off a dream and laugh about the oddity of it, but this was different. It made me go to the dark sad place I was when I realized I couldn’t conceive. I remembered that pain, grief and loss when I woke up. My arms ached not being able to hold a newborn…not just A newborn, but MY newborn. I had an ache in my heart and a pit in my stomach – the kind of pit you get when you hear the news that someone close to you has died. In my case a dream of having a baby that died.
It’s amazing how all these years later I can still get whisked back into that time of utter heartache. Don’t get me wrong…I LOVE my daughters and son more than anything…just the scenario of having a baby with my husband is the one dream I have that haunts my soul. Would I want to be pregnant now – absolutely not. I am too old and further more that door has been closed. That death of a dream has been mourned over and over again. I have my children in the way that I was supposed to. That fills my heart. Just on occasion the scab is ripped off the wound and all those tears and feelings some rushing out. I wonder…do we ever truly heal from loss and heartache?