I used to love dreaming. It let me escape my worries and get refreshed for the next day. After I lost my son, I was afraid to fall asleep for a while. I used to have terrible nightmares and they would shake me to the core. As time went on, they became less and less frequent. That is until recently. In the recent months, I have had some good dreams about Connor and some not so great. The other night I had the most wonderful dream.. that is, until I awoke and reality crushed me. My sweet two and a half year old had just gotten out of the tub... he held on to my neck as I carried him in his room to get jammies on. I tucked him in and spent a few minutes loving on him and talking to him. He only spoke back to me once in this time. I was telling him that I loved him so much and that mommy and daddy thought he was the most special little boy in the whole world. He looked right up at me and his answer was "I know." That was it. I then proceeded to finish tucking him in and went to bed myself. When I woke up, I panicked because I wondered why Connor wasn't up yet. I jumped out of bed thinking we would be late to school. I walked all the way into the hallway and looked into our daughter's room before it hit me. It was all a dream. Wow... talk about being half asleep. At this point, I was no longer motivated to start my day yet, so I climbed back into bed. My dreams of Connor are wonderful and they aren't the things I hate. I hate having to wake back up. It's even more of a reality check than normal. Every time this happens I walk into the kitchen and retrieve Connor's urn off his shelf. It's the only thing I can really do to feel close to him. Sometimes I just hold it and talk to him for a little while. Might seem crazy to some people but it gets me through my day. Point is that even after two and a half years, I still find myself imagining what it would be like to have a rambunctious, full of life two year old boy. I find myself longing more for normalcy than ever. This is not where I thought I would be in two years. Not at all. I'm thrilled with the other aspects of my life. I have a wonderful, supportive husband and a perfect little girl but no matter what, there will always be someone missing. There will always be that void. I like to believe that I am a strong, independent, intelligent woman but these moments always make me question those things. Then, I remember I am not alone. I know so many strong, intelligent, beautiful women who grieve their babies like I do. To all of those mothers: do not forget that grieving your child does not make you weak and you are not losing your sanity (even though it feels that way sometimes) and you are NEVER alone. I love all of you and pray that you find peace in the moments you can and happiness without feeling guilty. Have a wonderful weekend.