Finally drifting off to sleep after a week of insomnia, hovering in that place between asleep and awake, I finally saw you.
The sleeplessness stripped away my fears and prejudices and denials, and there you were. I was carrying you on my hip across a freshly mowed lawn, shooing rambunctious dogs at my feet. You were 4 or 5; scrawny but so very lovely. A tangle of fiery red waves fell down your back to your waist. Asleep on my shoulder with your face pressed into my neck, you shifted your head to face outward and I could finally SEE you from this dream’s perspective. Your father’s unmistakable eyes and smile. My nose and lips. His freckles. My dimples.
There was no question about it; I was carrying no one else’s child but my own.
I have dreamed of you for years, but never have I seen you so clearly. Never have I started from the clarity of a dream of you, chasing after you like a ghost so as to see you just a moment longer.
I have no doubt anymore, now that I know your face. I will be weak and shed a few more tears at the wait, but I know I will see your face and hold you in my arms for real someday.
My sweet sweet Charlotte… I can’t wait to meet you again. I can’t wait to be your mommy.