Friday, April 4, 2008

Dreams

I had a dream last night that we had another baby.  It was our second baby, and in the dream I was aware that Julia was dead.  The baby had been given to us, but it wasn't really our baby.  It seemed almost like a baby on loan.  I remember clumsily changing her diaper.  And I remember being angry about that.  If Julia were here I would be an expert at diaper changing.

At some point in the dream a nice man came and picked up my new baby.  He walked with her into the subway.  After he disappeared with her I realized she was gone for good.  I had now lost two babies.  

It is not fun to wake up after a dream like that.

It is Friday and I have taken another day off.  If every work week was four days long, then I would be fine.  I am trying to accept that, for now, four day weeks are what I need.  And I am thankful that I work someplace that allows me that flexibility.  On these days off I rarely leave my house.  I write, cry,  catch up on work, read the paper, and just regroup.  By the end of the day, I am able to function again in the real world.  

Yesterday I went shopping after school on the Upper West Side.  I have put off buying any new pants in a bigger size because I hate the fact that I have not lost all the weight from my pregnancy.  I managed to buy some stuff, but in between I cried in the dressing rooms of Old Navy, Banana Republic, and Gap.  As I went to meet my friend afterwards, I felt like I was walking a gauntlet, with infant carriers and baby bjorns everywhere I looked.  I stumbled into my friends apartment and burst into tears.  The night was salvaged after some good food and lots of wine.  Up until this point in my life I have never understood people who would say, "I really need a drink." Now I get it.

1 comment:

Beth said...

Cam and Josh - You are really courageous with your writing. Thank you for sharing how you feel so honestly. As a friend, I am glad to know that you want to talk about Julia and show pictures of her. I can't say that I would have known that otherwise. My heart hurts for you when I read your posts about how constant and present your grief is - that time isn't exactly a friend here but an extension. We love you guys and wish there were a way to carry some of this weight for you.