It wasn’t until I was on my way to work that I remembered dreaming about Calvin.
It was almost like the day in the hospital, when they brought him into the room so we could hold him. Except he was much bigger. He had hair. His skin was no longer dark pink. He was still wrapped in a hospital blanket, and like that day in the hospital, I moved the blanket away from his face so I could see him. He had a cleft in his lips. It was the same bittersweet feeling, that same sadness, that same joy of seeing my child. Two nights before, I dreamed of a different baby, I don’t know how I know the difference.
I was waiting for the light to change.
While I was waiting to cross the street to the office building, I noticed a little boy to my left. He was holding his mother’s hand. He was a wearing a grey long-sleeve and jeans. To my right, there was a mother holding her baby girl. I only saw them in my periphery, and when I saw, I made a concentrated effort not to look. The light changed from a hand that signaled ‘stop’ to a a person that told me to walk as fast as I could through the crosswalk. For some reason, it felt like the little boy’s voice was right behind me.
Sometimes, when I start to feel overwhelmed, my head tries to shut itself down. It’s almost dizzying. It’s almost like fainting. That happened at work. A colleague was transferring a call and the person’s name was Calvin. I heard him say my son’s name: “Calvin. C-a-l-v-i-n.”
All these things hurt me.
When Louie found out I had a dream about our son, he asked me if I thought it meant something, besides to hurt me. I told him that I didn’t it these things were meant to do that. He reminded me that feeling this sadness is a beautiful thing, because it reminds us of how much Calvin means to us, how important, and how wonderful it was to have him for the short time that we did.
A friend said that maybe Calvin was saying hi to me – I guess maybe it’s like how “Too Good To Be True” played at the restaurant the other night. I used to sing that to Calvin while I was pregnant with him. Louie sang it to him when he was holding him in the hospital. As much as I’m aching and longing for my baby, I wouldn’t go back and change any of the choices we made.