I had a bad dream last night. I dreamt that I was pregnant with our third baby, and that I, somehow, forgot to go to the OB for the second half of the pregnancy. And then in the 8th month, I remembered I was pregnant and noticed I had no belly and couldn’t feel the baby moving. We went in for an ultrasound and I woke up as we were waiting to be called back, full of doom and despair because I knew we’d lost the baby. We’d lost our third baby. And having our two healthy boys only relieved the pain a little bit as we waited, before I woke up.
We dropped Matthew off at camp this morning, and as we waited to check him in, there was a mom in front of us with a new baby. Another mom and I marveled at how tiny the baby was, as we held our seemingly massive near-one-year olds. In that moment, reflecting on my dream, I thought to myself, “We’re not done yet.”
B (because of his busy schedule) will be setting up an appointment with our RE for July to discuss a spring transfer.
We’re not done yet.