You would think that since I have been living, thinking, breathing baby over the past 6 years, I would have had many dreams about pregnancy and motherhood. Surprisingly, I haven't.
I remember the only time I have dreamed about children. It was 2004 and we had been trying to conceive for about 6 months. I had a really vivid dream where I was a mother to a newborn baby boy. It felt so real, that I shot up in bed and looked around for him when I woke up. I remember thinking how strange it was that I dreamed of a boy, as I have always thought my first baby would be a girl.
Since that time, I haven't dreamed about anything parenthood. In the last two years, I haven't dreamed much at all. I'm not sure why, but over the last few months, I have begun dreaming again; many, many dreams.
Last night, I dreamt again about a little boy. This time, he was about a year old. I was laying on the floor and he crawled on top of me. He grabbed my shirt at the shoulders with his pudgy little hands and hugged me, resting his head on my upper chest.
I remember what I felt at that moment: a pure sense of joy. The kind of joy I haven't felt in a long time. Pure happiness.
I wasn't sad when I woke up, just wistful. But I dismissed the dream quickly, got ready for the day and headed to church.
In church this morning, the speakers spoke about signs. One thing that was said today was that signs are not to give you faith, but to reward the faithful. You can't demand a sign from God to prove Himself to you, but He can choose to reach out and touch you, if He sees fit. As they talked, my thoughts wandered to my dream.
I am not saying my dream was a sign. What I do think is that instead of dismissing it, I should take it as a tender mercy from God. It was a glimpse of what may be in store for me someday. When you've spent the last 6 years climbing the mountain of infertility, it's sometimes nice to see what might be waiting for you on the other side.