Being on a break does not give you a break

No energy to tell you the frustrating news about Little H, the fact that our lawyer has almost no hope now (it's amazing how one little dentist appt takes biomom from unfit to parent of the year). I don't want to talk about it. Today I need to talk about even more dreams, the kind that you can't get away from, the kind that hurt that part of your heart that is supposed to feel only true happiness.

Saturday was the big party at the tattoo shop. R had to work, so it was my job to take pictures for the website. It was a long day, making sure I got shots of the bands, all the sponsors, the owner and artists having fun, etc. And then my little brother (CML) (who had been there most of the day) starts seriously looking into the design of his next tattoo. That tattoo will be his memorial for Goofball. As I walk past with the camera, on my way to get a few shots of the band jamming away, I see his go.ogle image search- gorilla. Goofball's collection of gorillas pops into my head, and I blink back a few tears and walk faster to get outside. The sun is glaring down and I'm instantly hot and wishing I was still standing in air conditioning, but afraid to step back inside for fear I would break down. An hour later, as I'm watching a group of college students get matching tattoos (and the girls in the group getting pierced), CML comes up to me with a few sheets of paper. "Which do you think is more like Goofball?" I have to look, I can't hide from it forever. One is a big silverback gorilla pounding his chest and roaring. That's not Goofball, he had no need to act aggressive. The other is standing on all 4 extremities, but with a serious look on his face, like he's protecting what he needs to, but not beyond the ability to comfort "his" children. That's Goofball, every bit of his personality, it says so much more to CML and I, because we know what that gorilla is thinking, we can see it in his eyes, and we miss it.

What does that have to do with the dream? Nothing really, there's no real link, until you get really deep into my brain. Somehow, Goofball is so linked to my desire for children that it felt like I lost more than him when he died. He was my link to hope that we'd overcome IF, he was the person I wanted to give a baby to, almost more than I wanted to give R a baby. So crying over Goofball suddenly feels like a precursor to my terrible dream. A dream that I could never imagine living through in real life, one that I am devistated that any of you have had to.

I don't remember how it started, but the beginning isn't important anyway. The part that keeps replaying over and over in my head, that kept me awake most of Saturday night, is the important part. I was in some sort of office building, not sure if it was a medical office or not. The dreaming me didn't realize that I was pregnant, but the me in my dream knew. I remember the feel of my stomach, how soft it was, a little bit squishy, a safe place for my little one to grow. And then the baby started talking to me (inside my head). I was so happy to have that small conversation, it felt like the purest connection two beings could ever have. And then my baby told me the news, that it was about to die and there was no way to stop it. The baby asked me to call R over and tell him, so that he would know. I started feeling the baby's heartbeat, right through my belly, I knew that he/she was putting everything left into making it beat so hard we could feel it, to give us the comfort of saying goodbye. And then it stopped and my baby whispered goodbye to me, and I moved R's hand away from my stomach because the heartbeat was gone. We were still standing in the hallway of an office building, quiet, knowing that we'd still never be parents.

And then, in my dream, I woke up and felt my belly. Felt that it was still big and squishy and holding a baby. And then I woke up for real, knowing that the dream -and the dream it was apparently inside of- was fake. That I've never made it past 5 1/2 weeks, never long enough to bloat, definitely never long enough to feel the baby or look pregnant, or even find a heartbeat. And even if I did, Goofball won't be there to share any of it. Go ahead subconcious, kick me while I'm down.

We already chose names

...or....
I wouldn't name my baby boy Dave.

Maybe we need to start up a twins name list, because last night the universe felt like it needed to tell me something. Waking up hurts the deepest parts of you when you dream about the child/children you may never have.

Apparently my subconcious likes screwing with the rest of my brain. So, sometime between 2 and 4 am, I delivered twins. Baby A: boy, 5 lbs, we named him Dave. Baby B: girl, 4-ish lbs, can't remember her name but I think it was Dana. BTW: in my dream I had to invent the weights myself, but the dream got to choose names that were not on our list. Full term, natural vaginal delivery. And like every good mother, I don't remember anything about labor. Not easy knowing you are dreaming and having to pull weights out of your butt for the twins you know damn well you did not just deliver. The girl was much smaller, but those are respectable weights considering I'm 5'4" and 104lbs pre-pg (and I did use that exact logic while I was dreaming).

The dream focused on the weirdest of details. I would think (when awake) that I would stare and touch every spot on my babies, I would memorize their hands and feet and not be able to stop stroking their head or back while I held them. Nope, not in that dream. In my dream, I spent a lot of time in front of a full-length mirror (which my parents do not have in their house) checking out my pp belly. At least that part was realistic- it was big, very squishy, I'm pretty sure it was a rather realistic interpretation of my body with a 24hr pp belly (I've seen a few on other people, so I guess that's what it would likely look like in me). Of course, the rest of the dream was off.

* they would not send twins home at 12 hrs old, especially with one barely weighing 4lbs (she looked so tiny, one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen)
* we went to my parents' house, and that's 2 hours from where we live
* R was nowhere in my dream
* my parents' house was spotless, and that absolutely never happens, ever
* I decided to walk to Goofball's house (which, even in reality, is only 1/4 mile down the road from my parents), the day after delivering twins, and I only took the boy. No way I would leave my newborn girl the day after she was born (left her with my dad, who was absolutely in love with her, but still, I wouldn't let my babies out of my sight) and I don't think walking any distance would be part of my plan 12 hrs pp
* I don't remember Goofball holding the baby, but I remember calling it Goofball's house and not Papa (my grandfather, the most amazing man I know)'s house, and my grandparents moved in there almost 10 years ago when they built the addition and sold their house to my parents (hence the 1/4 mile distance inbetween). I haven't called it Goofball's house (not out loud) since he died, I have to call it Papa's house so I don't cry.

And that's what I really remember. There was somebody at my other uncle's house (which is located between my parents and grandparents), but I don't remember anything about that other than vague remembrance of talking to them. It was a very skinny person, and neither my uncle nor his son is that, but I don't remember who it was. In the dream neither baby cried, I didn't feed them, I didn't change a diaper, I didn't even see the carseats we must have used to bring them home from the hospital. Come to think of it, I didn't see any baby stuff at all, no crib, no diapers, no swing. Great, now the dream got even weirder when I think about it. But my babies were perfect, so tiny and soft, and I could see absolute devotion in the eyes of everybody who held them. A pure love that can only come from grandparents and great-grandparents. It was beautiful. 2008 cannot come fast enough. Time to write my congressman and see how that bill to add infertility coverage to federal/military insurance is coming along.