i dream about her almost nightly.
sometimes i relive the nightmare, minute by minute. but mostly, in my dreams, she is not dead. the doctor was wrong. somehow, some way, she is alive, and i brought her home. my heart floods with joy. i knew it, i knew it all along! i knew it was impossible to go through nine months of pregnancy and leave the hospital with empty arms. i knew my baby - the one i'd encouraged her sister and brothers to feel as she moved in my belly - was alive. i knew that night at the hospital had to be a nightmare. now, at last, i am waking up.
i kiss her face. i stroke her hair. she is alive! it was just a dream. it was just a bad dream. i am whole again.
except i can't enjoy even this, because something is wrong. something, in my dreams, is always wrong.
she is hungry, and i can't nurse her. why can't i nurse her? i nursed all my other kids. right - because i have no milk. i have no milk because i was trying to dry it up. but...why would i try to dry up my milk right after giving birth? warning bells sound in my head. danger, danger. don't go down that road. instead, i rummage in my pantry frantically for formula. how do i not have a single can of formula? i always keep at least one on hand in case of emergencies. how was i so careless? how could i have forgotten to buy formula? where are my bottles?
or in my dream i am at a play center with all the kids - four of them, four kids, the number i had trained myself to think of over the last nine months - and the big kids have run ahead. i want to hurry after them, but i am nervous about running with the baby. i have no stroller, no carrier. why? i would never leave home without them. but wait - i have no stroller because my husband returned it. why would he return the stroller? why didn't i bring my carrier?
i wake up in my bed in the early hours of the morning, confused. i am listening for the cry of a hungry baby - but it doesn't come. i glance at the space beside my bed, where i usually keep the rock and play my other infants slept in for their first months - but it's not there. where is my baby?
she is in the ground, i remember. she is in the ground.
then i cry, quietly, trying not to wake my husband, trying to fall back asleep, unsure if i even want to.