Only in Dreams.

Several weeks ago, I had a dream one night. I woke up gasping and crying. I was relieved that it was only a dream. It was the middle of the night between 11:00 PM and 2:00 AM. Noah's cry was intensifying over the baby monitor. I wiped my face and staggered into his room. He saw me, grabbed his Pooh and reached for me. Noah has bad dreams, too. People ask me all the time, "How do you know he's having bad dreams if he doesn't talk?" Mother's intuition is my only answer. It's an anxious, scared cry. Like he's begging for the scary things to go away. So, I scoop him up and carry him to my room. At this point, I'm hugging him so tight. He falls asleep before I even walk the ten steps to my bed. So sweet and serene. I lay there. Awake. Anxious. Scared. Panicked.

In my dream, my baby was dead. Wonderful, smiling, life saving Noah was dead. He lay there in his tiny white, shiny coffin. I will never get that image out of my head. There is no greater fear in a parent than losing a child. Yesterday becomes a distant memory and tomorrow is depressing. I don't want to live in a world where my tomorrow doesn't include Noah. He's the basis for every decision I make. He's every thought in my head. I honestly didn't know what love was before Noah was born. My once hyper, hopping, happy Noah was lifeless. Still. Still is a scary word when it comes to Noah. He's not still often. Only in dreams...

I stand in this big church. I proceed to speak at his funeral. I would never be able to speak at Noah's funeral. I was calm and poised. Which, if you're reading this, you obviously know me. And you know I'm not a calm person. I'm high strung and panicked most of the time. This different version of me stands there speaking of this little boy who did so much for so many. I don't know how he died. And I think that's the hardest part of this dream. There's no resolution. Several people told me that they had dreams about their children dying. It's a hideous view of a future without Noah. No more hugs and kisses. No more waking up to the sweetest tackle ever. No more opening and shutting doors and cabinets and the refrigerator. No more reason.

Noah is happy in his bed. Snoring. Every day that I get to spend with Noah is a day well spent. I will spend the rest of my days with Noah. He's jabbering more and more everyday. And each day, he's closer and closer to talking. I have deep hope that he will talk one day. His therapists feel the same way. All I want to hear is "Mama, I love you." Just one time. I dream of the day when he says it. When your kids are talking your ear off and all you want is some peace and quiet, please do me one favor. Say thank you. People tell me often that when Noah starts talking, he won't shut up. I hope with everything that I am that it's true. There are things that we all take for granted every day. Simple things. There are sweet babies all over the Earth who can't walk. Kids who can't do anything for themselves and require constant care. Parents lose their kids every day and my Noah is still here. His story is not finished being written.

I am on a mission to tell Noah's story and spread happiness through him. He's is everything I've ever wanted and everything I could ever want or need. He's a blank canvas ready to be painted. There are wonderful things in store for him. Greatness. His smile could move mountains. His heart is kind and loving. He senses when you're sad and knows just what to do. He is pure joy. I am better because of him and constantly learn things from him. It baffles me how much he teaches me without a single word. He's a silent teacher and God truly saved me when He put him in my arms. I'll remember that moment until I leave this Earth. He is love in human form...