Not ‘kinda awake’ but fully awake at 4am I begin to search for reasons why. Over the last several months work has been boring, uninspiring and monotonous, so I applied for a secondment and I was sky rocketed back into my needs, wants and desires.
Over the last two weeks excitement has propelled me forward and I began to feel the shift of change as I finally let go of the past and began to settle into my life with Michelangelo. Each day as I woke early to mind the boys, making cereal, washing clothes, cooking, ironing and scrubbing my house, before falling exhausted into bed, a funny sensation would come over me as I began to realise that I still wanted a baby.
From the beginning Michelangelo has expressed his desire to adopt a child. I laughed at him at first, for years I couldn’t imagine children in my life when at the same time I couldn’t imagine them not in my life. I used to be so confused, painfully so. But then I met him and everything fell into place, everything felt exactly how it was supposed to be; so, when I woke up wanting a baby I thought about it, I really sat and pondered.
I dreamt I had a baby. If you know anything about me then you’ll know the importance I place upon my dream state revelations, so I decided I was definitely ready, but, two days later I dreamt the baby died. The dream was so realistic I woke up and cried. I was distraught. Michelangelo held me as I sobbed and attempted to explain. He didn’t protest it were only a dream, he didn’t tell me to take a sedative or go back to sleep, he just listened.
It was early in the morning, not 4am early but early. Something was different, I felt the shift. The baby was dead, just like it always has been. Just like Harrison who died all those years ago, the baby that never was. This time the baby was a little girl and the dream was hopeful, full of love. Unlike Harrison I doubted that the baby would haunt me. This baby girl did not represent what I couldn’t have or something lost. It was my love. I knew Michelangelo and I could adopt a baby if we wanted, but I finally accepted that I didn’t really want to. It wasn’t only the baby that died, it was the idea that I would have one of my own.
The weekend passed so quickly I didn’t even have time to mourn so I wake myself up at 4am. I remember all the years of wanting and of trying. I remember the heart wrenching pain, slow, non-eventful years. Tears. Prayers on my knees, begging, begging, always asking, please, please, please. At 4am I remind myself that I am happy and thankful; that’s a pretty good reason to be awake.