I'll see you in my dreams

I had a dream about Coraline last night.  In it, she was a few months old, chubby and bubbly with blue eyes, curly wispy hair, a drooly smile and an absolutely infectious baby giggle.  I bounced her on my hip down the long hallway and into our bedroom, where Matt was just waking up.  I put her on the bed so she could crawl to him.  He rolled over and smiled the biggest grin as Coraline made her way towards him.  It was the best, most bittersweet thing ever.  I know I'll never have that, not with her, but maybe one day we will with her brother or sister.

I just miss her so so much.  I told Matt about my dream and inadvertently made him cry at work.  Every time I think of it, I tear up.  It's not fair - it's not fair that I'll never hold her at 3, 6, 9 months old, never take her to preschool or kindergarten, never fight with her the first time she gets gum stuck in her hair or pick out her first homecoming dress with her.  It hurts more than I could imagine.  But I feel like I now have that beautiful memory, one that I was robbed of in reality.

She had blue eyes.  I never actually saw her eyes open, but I know they were blue.

I want to take the dream as a sign that I'm ready to move forward - that we're ready, that we should start planning for another baby.  But I'm not quite there yet mentally.  I still want to get all my ducks in a row so I can be totally prepared, again, to go through 9 months of anxiety and frantic waiting.  But seeing the smile on my husband's face in that dream - feeling the absolute joy of holding that squishy baby, my baby, my Coraline - I would go through all of it again for that chance.  I would walk through fire to bring Coraline back here, and I'll do it for her brother or sister as well.

I love you Coraline, so much, more than I ever got to show you.  I will make you proud of us, our whole family.  Thank you for giving me that beautiful memory, thank you for coming to me and comforting me, thank you for letting me be your mother.