My Dream.

Last night I had a dream about Lucy, it was one of those ones where even if you wake up during the night, once you drift off again, it is resumed.

Anyway, it was from when I was in hospital with Lucy, still pregnant and trying to buy some time before she arrived early. I was going through the motions of having the drugs, the one that wiped me out for 48 hours and not feeling in control of myself. The daily shots of peth that I really didn't want but they insisted on and with that, the shots of maxalon too. Then suddenly I was in labour, Paul wasn't there, but my mum made it in time. Her birth was quick and uneventful and she was whisked away screaming with my mum in tow.

Fast forward to day 7, she had her cranial ultrasound and it showed cysts on the brain. That morning she had been nuzzling at the breast like a little kitten she was so divine. Her paed came in and promptly announced that she had severe CP, that she most likely would never walk, talk, would be fed through a tummy button and there wasn't anything we could do. We were shattered, our little fighter, our little girl, no, this cant be happening.

This was a dream portraying exactly how it happened in real life, my memory was oh so clear and everything was the same.

In real life though, we went on to seek a second opinion and this one was that she was perfectly normal and she would live a healthy happy life.

In the dream though, we had to live with her diagnosis, that this was her new life and she would always be this way.

I cant understand why the dream went on like that, I am wondering if it somehow trying to trigger me into thinking we shouldnt tempt fate, that by having another baby, we would most definitely be looking down the barrel of another premmie baby.

This dream was so real, it has left me torn.