I’ve had two dreams about giving birth to a dead baby.
I’m in the hospital, and I know it’s a different place and time. I remember pushing and laboring, then passing out. I have flashes of them wrapping the baby up in a yellow receiving blanket. Louie is with me when I come to, and the baby is gone. When I ask Louie if he asked to see our baby, he tells me that they took the baby before he had the chance.
I remember feeling like I was going to lose it because we didn’t get to hold our baby. I remember feeling lost and confused because we couldn’t confirm whether we had a boy or a girl, and I didn’t know which baby this was. It’s really, really odd, but I felt like I knew who my children were — I just needed to know which of my babies I had delivered. And I don’t know why, but I know the baby in my dreams was not Calvin, but one of our daughters.
I know these dreams are a mash up of my experiences and my fears. But before I had Calvin, when I dreamed of my and Louie’s child, our baby was always a boy. That’s how I knew (coupled with the dream in which Mama – my grandmother who moved on from earth into Heaven in 2003 – felt my pregnant belly and told me I was having a boy a couple months into my pregnancy). And then there was also the dream a few years back in which my pregnancy just disappeared, which I wrote about here: Did my body already know?.
So now, after these dreams, I can’t help but feel scared of what will happen should I become pregnant again. I know it’s in God’s hands, and whether He chooses to bless us with another child, and whether He chooses to take this child sooner than later… I have to lay these fears at His feet. And it’s so much easier said than done.