Day 38: I Dreamt I Had a Son Named Patrick

Last night I had one of those vivid half-awake, half-asleep dreams that seem more real than what happens during my actual life. I kept remembering scenes from this dreamscape today, and these scenes were like actual memories, not fragments from my dream.

I dreamt Darcy and I were rearranging our house and buying new beds for the twins. In the corner of the twins room was a small toddler boy who looked exactly like my son, except younger. Who was he? I suddenly remembered that he was my son, and his name was Patrick. I told Darcy, “We have to buy Patrick a new bed, too.” “Who’s Patrick?” Darcy asked, looking alarmed. “He’s our son, our youngest.” I pointed at Patrick, who was gazing at me with gentle hazel eyes. “We don’t have another son,” Darcy replied. My heart shattered in the dream as the vision of Patrick faded, as if he were a projection suddenly cut from its light source.

In a few weeks, it will be the year anniversary of my second miscarriage. And, not coincidentally, my blogoversary. Now that I have become a member of the ALI community, I feel guilty about the pain I feel about my second miscarriage. I’m so lucky that my insurance covered our treatments, so fortunate that after my first miscarriage I was able to get pregnant. With boy/girl twins! That was my dream, and it came true. Why do I have such an awful pain, still, when I think about that second miscarriage, that unplanned yet joyful pregnancy that ended at 8 weeks, 1 day. What a jerk I am, when I have so much already, and so many people I have gotten to know and admire have had much worse things befall them.

And yet, I had a son named Patrick. But he disappeared, and I will only see him in my dreams. And it hurts.



Filed under Family, Miscarriage

6 responses to “Day 38: I Dreamt I Had a Son Named Patrick

  1. Amy

    Whoa. Goosebumps. This is beautifully written. Please don’t feel guilty. There’s no comparing pain, and you have a right to feel how you feel.

  2. I’m so sorry you lost your little boy.

  3. Your dream just broke my heart. You are completely entitled to feeling the pain! It doesn’t matter if you have 2 kids, 10 kids, or none…you lost a baby. A baby that you made on your own, without doctors doing it for you – I can imagine how joyful that was, even if it was unplanned. You are allowed to feel your grief just like anyone else.

    I’m thinking about you. Hugs!

  4. Esperanza

    What a heart wrenching dream. I’m so sorry for your lost. I hope you know that just because others have different stories, possibly with more quantitative loss or struggle than yours, that doesn’t do anything to lessen your losses. Your miscarriages were devastating no matter what other people experience. You need to validate your feelings about them, not matter what those feelings are.

    Again, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know your dream was a sad one, but maybe you can think of it as a time you got to spend with the child you lost. I don’t know. I’ve never dreamt about my lost child, I only dreamt I lost that pregnancy the night before I did. I don’t know what it’s like to dream about having what you lost, only losing what you have.

    Please know that you’re in my hearts and in my thoughts during this difficult time.

  5. I am so sorry you lost your little boy. I can’t speak from experience, but everything I’ve read about other people leads me to believe that having living children doesn’t make up for the ones you lost, whether they were lost before or after you’re living children were born. Please don’t feel guilty about sharing your pain. It must be difficult to hold the feelings of joy and being lucky in your twins, and the pain of missing the other babies you miscarried.

    I’m remembering Patrick with you. (((Hugs)))

  6. Grief is grief. Being grateful and happy for two healthy beautiful children and grieving the one you lost are not mutually exclusive. You can do both… without feeling guilty.

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