Tuesday, August 6, 2013
that was a fun one
*Thanks for the comments / thoughts on my last post. Now and then I get hit by the 'what am I doing and why??' monster. And then I'm reminded that writing is something I need. When I feel like I'm not connecting it's because I am lost and disappointed. A lot of my discouragement with writing has to do with my hope to be published, but even if that never happens I need this space to process. Thanks for letting me be real.*
A few nights ago I had a really bad nightmare. It was so vivid and real it scared me. I could not bring myself out of it even though I could feel myself trying to pull away and wake up. In the dream my baby died, but I don't think it was this baby because I was only 12 weeks along and I kept saying, "At least I have this one," and then pointing to my belly.
It was really strange because I knew I was losing a small, early baby (at one point I was sitting in a large pool of water somewhere watching myself bleed, knowing I was losing the baby and there was nothing I could do) but I was giving birth at the same time. It was so strange. And some of the images were direct flashbacks to Charlotte's birth.
When it finally happened she was born into my hands (yes a she, of course). I don't know why I insisted the baby was 12 weeks when it looked more like a 30 week baby, but I was convinced she died at 12 weeks. The baby was born in a round cage made of yarn. She was perfectly formed. Someone else was there briefly, a friend I think, and I mentioned over and over how perfect she was (also reminiscent of Charlotte's birth).
I walked around with the baby. I held her in my hands and went to find a midwife or doctor (but not one I know, I don't know who I was searching for). As I was walking I heard some people ahead of me. I quickly stuffed the baby under my shirt because I didn't want them to see me carrying a dead baby. I climbed a spiral staircase, opened a door at the top and stepped into a room. I reached under my shirt, pulled the baby out and said, "Here she is."
That's where the dream ended.
I was so disturbed by the dream I've tried to forget it, but it won't leave me. If I had any artistic skills at all I could draw a vivid picture of the baby and what she - and the ball made of yarn - looked like.
Dreams are a way for the mind to process and cope with difficult things, right? What are you trying to process / understand brain of mine?
28 weeks - third trimester - tomorrow. The last few weeks of this one are going to be fun (read: sarcasm).