The Dream, the Babies, the Truck, and the Letter

Several hard days this week.  Yesterday was better.  Today... how do I describe today?

My day began with a dream about Elliana.  I don't have a whole lot of dreams about her, but when I do, they have some similarities.  Not sure I want to write about the specifics right now.  But those dreams are the kind that put you in a disoriented state of mind.  It felt so real.  She felt real - in my dream.  The end of my dream was just a repeat of the same scene over and over and over again - like I couldn't get out of it.

Seth rescued me.  At 6am.  Calling for his daddy.  Although I was not wild about being awakened at the crack of dawn, I was grateful to him for waking me up from that awful place of being stuck.  Like a record skipping repeatedly.

The dream left me feeling like Elliana had been with me just moments earlier.  As if I'd been able to touch her and feel her just minutes ago.  Not 5 months and 4 days ago.  It was so disorienting that when I got out of bed and walked to Seth's room, I had to put my hand on my tummy to remind myself that she wasn't there.

Dreams like that just set a tone for the day, don't they?  Like when you dream that your husband was a big jerk, you're mad at him all day, right?

Then there were baby girls at Levi's soccer practice.  No baby boys.  Just baby girls.

I'm not delusional (well, I guess I could be?).  I realize that I will see babies every day.  Babies are a part of life.  And that's a good thing.  But I don't go that many places.  I don't see that many people.  And it seems like the majority of the places I do go, and the majority of the people I do see, have baby girls.  They're everywhere.

Still 'recovering' from that dream made seeing those baby girls that much harder.

And on the way home from soccer practice, I got behind a truck whose logo read '_______ Casket Company'.  I have never, ever, in my entire life, EVER seen a truck with the name of a casket company plastered all over it.  Like an advertisement.  I know everyone has to make a living, but it just.feels.so.wrong.

The casket truck was headed into town.  In the general direction of the funeral home we used.

A flood of memories washed over me.

I'm not angry about any of those things.  I don't resent the dream, the baby girls, or the casket company.  It just feels like some days are 'set up' to be especially difficult.

This afternoon, Elijah checked the mail and brought it to me.  There was a letter from one of the ladies who was part of my regular medical care between July 3 and October 5.  I was really surprised to get a letter from her - I'd be surprised to get a letter from any of the medical personnel who saw us during those months.  It's not like we were super friendly and outgoing.  I wasn't a fun patient.  I cried a lot.

It was such a precious letter.  It made me cry - the good kind of cry, if there is such a thing under these circumstances.  I think I need to share part of it.  I hope she doesn't mind.  :-)

"I came to know you and your husband during a very difficult time in your life.  You may have thought of me as someone who helped to deliver bad news.  During your pregnancy I learned about your blog, and I want you to know how much that changed me.  I have been {________} for 12 years, and while working nights in acute care for [the majority of those years], I had lost some passion for my job.  Last year, I made the move to [name of doctor's office].  That move and reading your blog restored the passion for me.  We see patients over and over but never truly understand what a patient goes through after they leave our department with very sad news.  We can assume, but never really know.  Your blog about Elliana helped me understand a little more what goes through a patient's mind after they leave my room.  I know I can never truly understand what this journey has been like for you, but I want you to know that you, Elliana, your family, and your blog have helped create a deeper understanding about other patients' experiences."

"I had read in your blog that you wanted Elliana's life to mean something so I want you to know how I have been affected in a very positive way.  Even though you and your family are deeply saddened by your loss, I am very grateful that I met you and Elliana.  I hope this helps even just a little bit."

YES.  It helps.  Thank you, A.  We are so grateful to have met you.  Thank you for writing me.  Thank you for caring about us.  And A, you should know that I wrote a letter to the hospital (the Comfort Committee maybe?) *just yesterday*, telling them about all of the things they did well.  You were part of that letter.  You cared for us well.  You helped me enjoy my baby girl.  Thank you.