Sweet Dreams

I'm thoroughly enjoying the pregnancy dreams I've been having. Through each of them, I get a quick glimpse into who my mind seems to think our little precious will be one day.

Adam and I were very different newborns, looks wise. I was delightfully bald until I was almost two. And when my hair did come in, I was a toe-headed blonde. Unfortunately, my blonde genes didn't want to stick around too long and they disappeared by the time I was 6. (Although, thanks to my sister-in-law hair stylist, I still enjoy life as a blonde). Adam was born with a thick tuft of dark brown hair. Enough hair that he could've had a haircut right from birth.

Because of the differences, we've spent quite some time imagining what little Adly will come out looking like. I can't tell you how difficult pregnancy is for impatient people. So many nights we both sit here just wishing she'd be here already. Since she can't be, you spend all this time imagining what your little offspring is going to look like, be like, act like, etc. In some ways, pregnancy flies by. In other ways, it draaaaags on.

In my latest dream, she was around 9 months old...although she was able to have a conversation with me. She's totally going to be a baby genius. She had light brown hair with little curl-like flips and the cutest little pink hair pretty in her hair with big brown eyes. She was wearing a cute little dress and we were somewhere with stairs. I was carrying her to wherever we were headed on my hip and we were walking down stairs.

Those of you who know me, know my fatal flaw of terrible knees. My beloved knee brace has become my best friend throughout this pregnancy. I also walk down stairs like I am a crippled 88 year old.

As I carried Adly, we were talking about something I can't remember. I just kept looking at her. She was so sweet and innocent looking. Here's what I do remember of the conversation. She asked me, "Mama, why do you walk down the stairs so funny? Is it because of your knees? They hurt you, don't they?" I replied to her, "Yes, they do. But not enough to not carry you."

There was a lot of white light around us, sort of like we were in a dream you have of people who are no longer here. Usually I forget my dreams before I wake up, but this one I just can't stop thinking about. I can't get that picture of her out of my mind, nor the sound of her voice.

I can't wait until the moment she's old enough to have a conversation with me. And better yet, until she's old enough to call me "mama".