E. woke up last night. He went back to sleep at first, for about forty minutes, but then he woke up again and it was clear he was going to need some help to get fully settled. I went into his room, checked that his diaper hadn’t leaked, picked him up, and sat with him in the rocking chair for two minutes or so, just until he started rubbing his face with his bunny and flopping against my chest. Then I kissed him, put him back in the crib, and crawled back to bed. Given it was already 5 a.m. by that stage, I didn’t like my chances of falling asleep again, but, in the end, I did.
I had the most convoluted dream.
In the dream we were planning to go to Australia with my mother and my two sisters, and I kept freaking out because it was going to interfere with trying to have another baby, and I had to have another baby, because we didn’t want E. to be by himself, and what if something ever happened to E., how would we go on living? And then, in the dream, I felt this enormous rush of relief because I realized (as one does in dreams, where a complete shift in the dream reality seems perfectly normal) that we already had two children, that there were two little boys running around our house, not one, that we were taking both of them with us to Australia, so it didn’t matter at all- we didn’t have to try again, we didn’t have to worry, we had our family. In the dream I can remember shaking my head, bemused at my own silliness, wondering why on earth I was so concerned about this when our boys were right there.
And then I woke up. And the worst part of it, the very worst part, is it took me a moment to disentangle myself from the web the dream had woven. For a very brief moment, that second little boy seemed like a lived reality and not just a dream.
May it be so.
Transfer day tomorrow.