Last Thursday, I had a dream.
I had a dream that I gave birth to the most beautiful baby girl. I felt everything, contractions and all. It was one of those dreams that just felt so real, you know?
In the early morning light, we swaddled baby girl in a deep magenta blanket and placed a pink hat on her head. We were debating having her middle name be Charlie. In my dream, I laid her little swaddled body down and went to sleep myself, exhausted, but extatic.
I woke up from the dream and reached over to make sure my baby girl was breathing, it was just that real. Instead of feeling her little chest rise and fall, I felt the fur of my cat curled up beside me.
And I started to cry.
Not because the dream was scary or I regretted having it, but because reality is scary. Not knowing if I'll ever have a little body to swaddle. Not knowing if Keegan and I will ever discuss names. Not knowing the worry of being a parent and waking up many times a night to make sure my little one is still breathing.
The not knowing is what scares me the most. If someone could tell me that in X amount of months or years, we'd be pregnant, then it would be easier to face the failed cycles month after month. But, no one can tell me, and that's what scares me.