Thursday, June 16, 2011
My once happy, full-of-hopes life has taken an unimaginary turn since my son died last November. Yesterday I dreamt about my boy. It was a nicu in a hospital in a country to which I have never been to (in real life). In my dream, my son died in this nicu. There were two sets of dreams, I think. In the first set, my son was taken to this new nicu and my husband or I didn't accompany him (I don't know why). Then I saw that doctors tried a lot but my son left us. In the second set of dreams I visit this nicu to see my baby. Knowing, he's not alive anymore. Am in a new city, alone, I have horrendous time trying to locate this hospital amidst all my grief, but I find it with the help of a kind woman who decides to help me.
The doctors spend some time figuring out who my baby is. Then they do. They place him in my hands. He is beautiful. I want to kiss him. Kiss his face. I hold him to my chest and cry. The grief trapped inside my heart flows like a river. I hold my son hard and cry - something I didn't do in real life.
When I woke up in the morning, that image where I hold my son was etched in my mind. I was shaken by the clarity of my dream.
It will be 7 months soon since my baby was born. I write to my son everyday (I have a diary) where I apologise to him now and then for not holding him after he was gone. For not seeing him. He went home from the hospital with his grandmom (my mil) while I sat like a rock 3 feet away from him without looking at him. Would my son have tried to grab my attention? Would he have said -'mamma, pick me up'? My baby son may forgive me, but I will never be able to forgive myself.
If I get another chance at motherhood, if I have another baby, I will do everything possible on this earth to give him/her a lovely life. I don't know if that will help me atone for my sin but I will try. For that, I want another chance. Another baby. Badly.
I was very saddened by Missy's news other day.
Life is sad. Really.