For the first time since I lost my sweet little baby girl, she came to see me in my dreams.
I am laying in bed. My eyes are closed. I am at that place between sleep and awake. My eyes are comfortably closed. I can sense that the sun is up. My hand is resting on Bug as she sleeps next to me. I know that this time with her very precious. To keep it for as long as I can, I keep my eyes closed. My senses take in all that they can. The sound of her breath. The beating of her heart. The warmth and softness of her skin. The easy in-and-out of her sleeping breath. She sleeps peacufully next to me.
My eyes open to the darkness of my bedroom. She’s gone. Just a dream.
The love and beauty of that brief moment I had in my dreams with my sweet little baby girl comes back to me again and again. My eyes fill with tears as I remember my hand resting on my baby. I will never hold her, kiss her, feel her again unless it happens in a dream. It happened for the first time last night. Today I swing between trying to absorb and remember every aspect of my dream, the love and beauty, and the raw pain it reminds me of, the loss, her absence, my aching need to just hold my baby girl.
So where does that leave me? Aching for another dream.