Silly Mom Thoughts

I don’t know how I had the willpower to not find out Bean’s gender when I was pregnant with her. It must have been an act of God, some kind of supernatural power that possessed my body and allowed me to tell the ultrasound technician (not once, but twice), “Please don’t tell me what I’m having.”

This time, all of the willpower I once possessed has left me completely and utterly impatient.

At my last appointment, my doctor said we’d wait to schedule and ultrasound depending upon the results of my Quad Screen. I waited. And waited. Aaaand waited. Finally, I called the office and the nurse casually responded, “Oh, no worries, it was all negative!”

Well, of course, that was good news, but, as I explained to her, I was also supposed to be getting a date for my ultrasound. My doctor had mentioned that he wanted me to have one between 18 and 22 weeks. She said she would call me back with a date, and I hoped it would be within the next week.

To my disappointment, she told me it wouldn’t be until May 1st.  That was almost three weeks! Bah.

But now, finally, May 1st is in reach. (You’d think I was a three-year-old with how long the past few weeks have felt!) Yet, each day goes by crawling like a sleepy slug. And, with each second that ticks by, I find myself worrying about the appointment.

Why am I such a worrier? Seriously, I need to get over this.

I have had silly worries, like the technician refusing to tell me the sex of the babies or the babies not cooperating.

Then, I have had more serious worries, like something being physically wrong with them, or worse, one of them not living anymore. I have worried that one of the babies is significantly larger than its twin, and the other one is struggling to survive.

So many worries wrapped up around these two tiny little buggers.

Fortunately, I’m feeling them move more than ever before. The interesting thing is that Lefty, who was my crazy wiggler before, is suddenly not as kick-happy, where as Righty is a little wiggle worm. I don’t know if they’re taking turns on who is the more active one, but it has me a little concerned that Lefty is okay. I’m trying to tell myself that maybe he/she has just moved to a different position that I can’t feel as easily, or maybe he/she is going through a growth spurt or something that has her sleeping more.

I dunno.

But, I do know I’ll feel much better on Friday when I can see them wiggling around and healthy. Would you consider sending good thoughts and prayers our way?

I had the most devastating, yet hilarious pregnancy dream last night. My dreams are normally pretty vivid, but wow, this one takes the cake. In this dream, I learned the true identity of the twins. Interested to know what they were? Let me tell you: it wasn’t human.

In my dream, I was in a room with several pregnant women all crouching over paper plates and grunting. I was excited because I was going to be able to deliver my babies vaginally, something I have never experienced. They were coming a little early, so I knew they’d be small, but I was shocked at how small they were. The woman next to me groaned and pushed. I stole a glance at her paper plate and there was her beautiful, tiny…

Chicken egg.

Yes, that’s right, we were all birthing chicken eggs. I suddenly felt the urge to push, and push I did. (I’m actually surprised I didn’t crap my pants in the middle of the night because I’m fairly certain I was pushing in real life too.). Out popped my first “baby.” I didn’t have time to get a good look before the second one popped out. Then, to my surprise, a third.

Finally, my body was done birthing and I got a chance to examine my little ones. It was apparent right away that the third had died much earlier in the pregnancy, it wasn’t developed at all. I was sad, but I was really only expecting two, so it wasn’t as devastating as what I found out next.

All around me, women were caring for their newly birthed eggs, some of the eggs had hatched into cute little fuzzy chicks. I thought, “Wow, I was really hoping for babies, but I suppose a healthy chick is better than nothing.” But then I got a good look at my little ones. My babies were not eggs or fuzzy birds like the others. They were miniature cooked chickens, skinned, probably boiled since they were so pale, and headless. They were, by my pregnancy dream standards, dead.

I carried their lifeless little cooked bodies in my hands and with enormous emotional effort, threw them in the garbage.

This was where my dream went from amusing to downright devastating.

I left the hospital with nothing but a saggy belly pooch. I kept thinking, “But I saw those babies on ultrasound and they were babies, not birds!” and then, “I was just feeling them kick last night!” No matter how much I tried to convince myself that this must be a mistake, the belly pooch and lack of movement said it all.

I fell to the ground screaming and crying in agony and grief.

“I can’t do this again! I can’t go through all of the morning sickness, vomiting, everything again! I should have my babies here now!”

Eventually, I picked myself up. A couple days later, I put on makeup and nice clothes and faced the world. A friend of mine said, “Oh, I knew you’d get over it quickly.” I burst into tears.

What kind of a pregnancy dream was that?! So silly, yet so heartbreaking at the same time. It was truly reassuring to feel both babies kicking this morning. Let’s just hope they’re babies and not chickens.

I had a huge awakening yesterday and I’m starting to freak out. Below, is a picture I took  of my twin-filled belly at 18 weeks 5 days:

That’s big. No, I’m not saying I look fat or anything silly like that. It’s just, I don’t usually look that big until around seven months. Around seven or eight months is when I start getting uncomfortable and useless because bending over, standing, lifting, all becomes a massive chore. Usually, that’s fine and normal, because I have had time to prepare for the arrival of my baby and am, for the most part, set and ready to bring them home.

Right now, I’m nowhere near ready to bring these babies home. According to my doctor, there is a good chance that I deliver around 36 weeks, full term for twins. That is only 17 weeks from tomorrow. That would mean I’m more than halfway through this pregnancy.

Now, I know my babies, and I know they really love to cook as long as possible, so I’m fairly convinced they won’t be making an appearance until 38 or 39 weeks. However, no matter when they come home, I have a feeling my enormous belly will keep me from getting things ready much sooner than it did with my singleton pregnancies.

So, my belly picture started getting me all freaked out. Suddenly, I feel this major urgency to get our teeny house organized and ready to double our kid load. I look around everywhere and see things that need to be organized, given away, or thrown away. I see our huge, bulky dressers that are going to have to be replaced with pricey closet organizers simply because we need every inch of this house free as possible.

It’s overwhelming, to say the least.

Today, I am making it my task to clean out the hall closets and organize things there. I figure that’s an okay start. This weekend, Turk and I are planning on tackling what will be the twins’ room but is now our office/catch-all room. We have so much stuff we need to get rid of, and even more that we need to buy. A smaller desk, closet organizers, shelves…

I want, more than anything, to have this place as organized as possible before I’m anywhere near delivering the twins. I want to come home to a place where I know exactly where the diapers are, and which drawers hold which child’s clothes. I want to be able to walk through rooms without bumping into furniture.

So, yep, I’m freaking out a bit and my mind is, once again, zooming in a million directions as I try and figure out how we are going to successfully fit a family of six in our less than 1100 sqft house.

It’s funny, when you want something so badly, you feel like it will never happen. I’m feeling a bit that way this week. Any day now, I should be getting a call from my doctor’s office to set up an ultrasound. This isn’t like the ultrasounds I have already had, this is The Big One: The one where they look closely to see if there are any deformities or reasons to be concerned for the babies’ health. The ultrasound where, assuming the babies are cooperating, we get to find out if we’re having a Zander and Madeline, Madeline and Payton, or Zander and Wyatt.

And, if it’s anything like my dreams as of late, where I’ll find out there’s a third baby hiding in there. (I know, there isn’t, but dang those pregnancy dreams are vivid!)

Originally, I had intended to opt out of the Quad Screen, a blood test that determines if I’m a potential carrier of a variety of genetic disorders, like I did with Bug and Bean. My thought being, I’m not going to terminate a baby who has a genetic disorder, such as Down Syndrome. However, my doctor mentioned that if the test comes back with some abnormalities, that he wants to send me to a more high-tech ultrasound office out of our town. He said that the likelihood of getting abnormal results is higher since I’m having twins, though it probably won’t mean anything. I figured, I’d rather be safe than sorry and get the higher-tech ultrasound, if need be.

So, I wait for the call. Any day now.

Another thing I’m anxiously awaiting is the results to the recent short story contest. I know it isn’t going to be this week, but I have a feeling we’ll find out any time when to expect the results by. I’m on pins and needles! I put a lot into the stories I wrote, and I really want to know how the judges are going to receive them.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Grrr, I hate having to be patient!

You’d think, after all my years of clumsiness, I would remember how much it hurts to fall on concrete. You’d also think, given the fact that I have been walking for at least 25 years now, that I would be able to do so without incident. And yet, I am constantly tripping and occasionally falling on my face.

Today was a particularly frightening fall. I was leaving a friend’s house, after a lovely morning of girl chatting, kids screaming and playing, lots of great fun. My mind was focused on getting the kids home, certain that today both of my kids were going to nap at the same time. (I was incredibly giddy over that thought.) In my hopeful nap time reverie, I missed a concrete step, toppled down into more concrete, and banged up my knee and hand pretty good.

To make matters worse, in my arms was my 23 pounds of beautifulness, Bean. I watched in horrific slow motion while she also fell backward, out of my arms, and smacked her head on the concrete. She took the brunt of the fall, and I feel so awful!

We went back inside, cleaned up, got a gummi bear treat to stop crying (Bean, not me, though I wouldn’t have minded a gummi bear treat), and headed for home. Bean fell asleep on the ride home, since she absolutely refuses to skip a nap time, and I worried a little about her and her recent head injury. At home, I put Bug down for a nap, and thankfully he fell asleep almost immediately. I initially had Bean in the other room, but decided I felt better if I was holding her while she slept.

The left side of my pelvis started aching, and I started getting some cramping along the bottom of my belly. Friends kept asking if I had called the doctor and I thought, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea, just in case.”

I called my OB and they told me to come in ASAP.

I called Bean’s doctor and they asked me a bunch of questions about how she was doing. (Is she eating? Like a pig. Are her eyes dialated to different sizes? Nope. Did she lose consciousness? No. Is she abnormally irritable? Only when I poke at the bump on her head. (I’m kidding, I wouldn’t do that to her!)) In the end, they told me not to worry about bringing her in unless her symptoms changed.

My wonderful neighbor came over with his son and hung out while I went to my OB’s office. That was, by far, the quickest appointment I have ever had! I was in the waiting room all of two minutes and seen by the doctor maybe four minutes after that. I guess when you’re pregnant and take a nasty spill, you get high-class treatment!

The OB hooked up the ultrasound machine, though before he put the wand on my belly, he mentioned if there was something wrong, that there wasn’t anything we could do about it.

Okay, love my OB and the fact that he gives me all the facts, but I was not in a fact receiving mood at the moment. Some things are better left unsaid. But, he’s a good guy, so I forgive him.

He checked out both babies, and they were there in all their wiggling, healthy heartbeating glory. Initially, one of the twins was positioned with his butt to the ultrasound wand. I thought that was pretty hilarious. Who knew I would get mooned by my unborn child today?

The only thing he did say that causes me very slight worry, is that I am not out of the woods for a couple of days. He said if they’re still in there, happy and healthy after a couple of days, everything is fine, but until then, there’s still a chance of something happening. But, he did emphasize that because I didn’t fall directly onto my belly, the chances of anything being wrong after seeing the babies today are quite slim. Phew.

When all was said and done, I begged my doctor for a prescription for a wheelchair for the rest of my pregnancy.

“I am not safe walking when I’m not pregnant,” I explained. “I’m a full-blown disaster when I am.”

Can you believe he wouldn’t give me a wheelchair prescription?! The nerve…

Alright, so I suppose I couldn’t hang out in a wheelchair and take care of my 3-year-old and 1-year-old.  Maybe it’s best that he denied my request.

So, what was initially a pretty frightening afternoon turned out okay. Especially after that whole Natasha Richardson thing, I was pretty worried about my little Bean’s noggin. I’m very thankful that everything turned out okay for all three of my babies.

Today is day two in a row of not spewing my guts out! Dare I hope that my morning sickness is gone for good?

Why, yes. Yes, I do.

Because my brain hasn’t been focused solely on keeping my lunch down, I began letting it think of other things today. That was a dangerous move because suddenly, reality is sinking in.

We’re having twins. In 24 weeks or less. We will be doubling our kid load with one shot. Holy crap.

Though it may sound silly to not stress about this, I’m honestly not worried about the idea of having four kids. I know how to take care of newborns, infants, toddlers, preschoolers… I know two will be slightly more challenging, but I know I can do it.

I’m more worried about other, more trivial things. Like space. And money.

See, we live in a 1080 sqft house with three bedrooms. No biggie, two kids to a room will work fine, but we need to get seriously creative with closet organization. I have my eye on a sweet closet organizer thingie at Home Depot and it ain’t cheap.

Bug and Bean need a bunk bed. I have been told that a bunch of friends and family are going in on part of a payment for one, and I’m so grateful, but to get the kind we need (with a ladder that doesn’t go straight up, but rather at an incline), we still have to fork out a few hundred of our own dollars.

Cha-ching!

There are some things that we will need, that I hope I can find cheap. Like baby swings, an extra high chair and Boppy pillow, clothes (especially if they’re preemies), and all of the other stuff I need one more of. Baby crap adds up so fast!

Then there are other things that I wouldn’t necessarily think about, except the fact that we’ll soon be a family of six. Like the fact that we have only a three person couch and no love seat. We’re going to have to get at least a love seat soon or no one is going to have a seat (especially if/when we have visitors).

Of course, we still have an incomplete house project from last summer that has left us with no molding on the floors and around the doors, new doors that need to be cut and put in, and paint that needs to be touched up. And, I really want to paint the babies’ room before they come too. And install new carpet. Our carpet is so disgusting, I just want nice, new, durable carpet in our rooms.

Then, there’s a selfish part of me that wants our master bedroom to become our cozy refuge. Our mattress is still on the floor, since I have been waiting patiently for us to be able to afford a nice bed frame. I want to paint our walls a romantic but soothing color. I want bedside tables with reading lamps instead of a broken dresser from IKEA.

Granted, I realize most of these things aren’t necessary for us to bring our babies home. But, my pregnant mind is nesting, and I really want a fresh start when they arrive, and for things to be as organized and comfortable as possible. I want my house to feel more like a home, because I have a feeling that I’m going to be spending a whole lot of time here until the twins get older.

I think maybe I need to start making more money.

I have had a different OB for each of my pregnancies (and, for Bug’s, two different OBs). Now, in my third and final pregnancy, I have found the most amazing OB ever. Why couldn’t I have found him first?

My first appointment, he explained things to me about my previous pregnancies that no other doctor had cared to tell me about. When I ask questions, he gives me all the information I need, and then some. He never ever makes me feel silly for coming in, and actually has a “better safe than sorry” outlook on it all. I never feel rushed in my appointment, like I have with previous doctors, he makes me feel like I am the only patient he will have all day long. It’s amazing.

Today, I went in to figure out what’s going on with my insane morning sickness. When I asked if it was normal for morning sickness to get more severe over time, he said nothing is necessarily “normal” from one pregnancy to the next. He explained that our bodies can react to external stressors, and asked if I had experienced anything out of the ordinary lately. Oddly enough, things have been a bit emotionally topsy turvy the past few weeks since my parents announced their divorce. He sympathized with me, made me feel like it was perfectly normal to have been upset over that, and said that could have most definitely played a role in my super awesome spewing the past week.

He went on to explain different ways the mind can benefit or impair the body, based on our thoughts and emotions, and the things happening around us. He said that at one time, pregnant women were very much coddled and protected, and that may be why now, when we’re out in the world like everyone else, some people react more to stress though physical reactions. Boy, did that make sense!

In the end, he gave me a higher dosage vitamin and something to help with the awful acid reflux I’ve been experiencing to see if those things are enough to keep the pukeys away. Of course today, because this always happens to me the day I go into the doctor, I am feeling a million times better than I did yesterday and the past week. Not that I’m complaining, I’d much rather feel good, but I kind of lost my gusto for begging for anti-nausea meds when I wasn’t feeling super sick.

So, things are looking up. I have my appetite back slightly, haven’t knelt to the porcelain gods for a day now, and am so glad I went in to the doctor today. Lets just hope this lasts!

(And a big shout out to my friend for watching the kids. I would be so screwed if I didn’t have such wonderful support!)

Oh! And just before I headed out to my appointment, another friend of mine showed up with a little gift for me: Morning Wellness Tea from Earth Mama Angel Baby Organics. It has a whole booty load of ginger, spearmint, chamomile, and other tummy soothing stuff. She owns this super cool company, Once Upon A Bum, you should go check out her site! Seriously, could I get any more love? I said it before, and I’ll say it again: Dang, I’m one lucky girl.

Oh my, things have gotten far worse on the morning sickness end of my twin pregnancy. I had one week completely free of nausea and it was glorious. Then, last week, I started feeling nauseated again. The nausea turned to tossing my cookies once a day, which gradually turned to tossing my cookies after nearly every meal. Essentially, I haven’t eaten much since Saturday at dinner and it has been miserable.

I thought, maybe, it was the flu. But, I haven’t had a fever, it has lasted over a week now, and no one else in my family has gotten sick. I think it’s simply the twins stirring up trouble with Mama’s belly.

Now, I would have hoped that under such circumstances I would have the balls to suck it up, make it work, and deal with it.

Yeeeaah, not so much.

Screw Mrs. Tough Mama. I have been a big, huge, curl up in a ball, whine and cry, baby.

I have been letting my kids eat oatmeal and cereal for nearly every meal, simply because the smell of hot dogs and chicken nuggets quite literally makes me dry heave. I have allowed my kids to watch too many movies and play much longer by themselves than normal, simply so I can lie down and be still for a moment. I have called Turk crying almost every single day this week. And, I have whined- oh boy have I whined- to my friends about how yucky I feel.

And, instead of telling me to suck it up, they have listened to me, prayed for me, taken care of me, and helped me out immensely.

Friday, one of my friends insisted that I stay at her house for the afternoon and then insisted I stay for dinner. She fed me, she chatted with me, and her kids entertained mine for hours. It was an immense relief.

This morning, still sick as a dog, I called the doctor’s office to beg for Zofran or some other type of anti-nausea medicine.

“So, you have some morning sickness?” the nurse asked.

“No, I have had morning sickness for the past two months, now it’s worse and I’m throwing up,” I explained.

“I see,” she said and I prayed the next words out of her mouth were going to be “Let me get that prescription drawn up for you.”

Instead, these awful words came out of her mouth. (And if you have ever suffered from more than just nausea morning sickness, you’ll understand why they’re awful.)

“Why don’t you try sucking on some ginger, drinking ginger ale, pop a few Tums tablets, and take 25mg of Vitamin B6 three times a day,” she said.

My eyes welled with tears and I had to hang up the phone.

My morning sickness isn’t going to get better with Tums and Vitamin B6! And I have had so much ginger this pregnancy, I’m fairly certain at least one of these kids will be named “Ginger.”

Depressed, sad, and still sick, I hauled the kids out of the house to two different stores to try and find more ginger candy and the other stuff. I never found the correct dosage of Vitamin B6.

At home, I decided to scramble some eggs to force it down my throat, thinking some protein would help my nausea subside.

Lets just say I got to see my eggs again shortly afterward.

That sealed it. I couldn’t deal with this anymore. I called the doctor’s office again, explained that I don’t think they understood the fact that I wasn’t just nauseated, but couldn’t keep food down and I needed medicine NOW.

The nurse eventually called back, apologized for not realizing the severity, and offered to give me a medicine that would knock me out or schedule me an appointment with my doctor for tomorrow morning.

Yeah, I can’t do “knocked out” when I have two kids to care for, so I opted for the appointment.

Rest assured, I will be grovelling on the floor of that doctor’s office, begging for some medicinal relief from this hell.

In the midst of all of these calls, I called and vented to my neighbor, who offered to take the kids for a bit. Knowing she had to work tonight, I didn’t want to throw a couple more crazy kids at her, though I was so appreciative for the offer.

Later, another friend called and offered to take the kids. I was feeling okay at that point, so I asked if I could just come over and hang out with the kiddos. By the time I got there, I was sick as a dog again. She shoo’d me off to the couch while she entertained the kids outside for three hours. I sat there, in silence, I slept, I sipped water and nibbled on crackers. I had no responsibilities to speak of.

Then, she fed the kids dinner, she chatted with me, and simply made me feel wonderful.

As if these three friends weren’t support enough, online friends have been showering me with support and encouragement. Turk has been amazing, coming home from work and letting me crash while he gets the kids ready for bed.

I am one lucky girl.

My fears that I was going to go to the doctor on Friday and find out that one of my little twinkies wasn’t there anymore were, thankfully, blessedly, unfounded. My OB fired up the ultrasound machine and immediately I got to see these sweet little ones. I have never seen my babies at nearly 14 weeks before, so it was so much fun seeing what my little 14 week old twins look like. One of the babies, Righty, as I will call “her” for the time being, was sleeping like… well, a baby. Her crazy little uterus buddy, Mr. Lefty, was dancing a jig as if to make up for the other’s laziness. I kid you not, during the 5 minutes I was hooked up to the ultrasound, Lefty did a complete 360 degree turn, arms in the air, wiggling, squirming, and sucking “his” hand.

Most people, when they are flooded with relief, cry. I have never been known to cry under those types of situations however, so instead, I laughed. A lot. The doctor jokingly said, “How’s a guy supposed to get a good look at these babies if you’re laughing so much!” I apologized and explained that laughter is my defense mechanism. He understood, I calmed down, and we got some great pictures of the babies.

Wanna see?

(As of you have a choice in the matter! *Wink*)

I labeled the pictures because, well, looking at ultrasounds are often like looking at Rorschach Tests. Admittedly, my twins resemble aliens more than my offspring at the moment, but hey, they’re still cute to me.

Allow me to introduce you to Righty, my sleepy child. She moved once during the ultrasound, only to roll over and then fall back asleep.

And, here is our little dancing babe, Lefty. He was hilarious, but honestly, I wouldn’t expect anything less from a child of Turk and I.

To clarify, I am calling the twins “he” and “she,” but those are simply arbitrary labels. We should find out next month if our twins are sporting a cheeseburger or a hot dog. Today, Bug adimantly informed me that there were two girls in my belly, depsite his earlier claim that there is a boy and a girl. Though, I must say, two girls surely would explain my awful nausea that continues to kick my ass about two days a week. (Still, better than seven days. I’ll take whatever relief I can get!)

Our babies are Lefty and Righty for right now because one has not presented yet, since they’re so small. When one travels down south more, that baby will be known as Baby A, and the sibling will be Baby B. Eventually, I will come up with cute little nicknames for them, but for now, while I can’t decifer one from the other, they’ll simply be “the twins.”

Yay for twinkies!

Okay, all you dream analyzers, help me out with the doozie of a nightmare I had last night. It really disturbed me both in my dream, and even after I awoke. It disturbed me so much, in fact, that I’m sitting here, still in bed, typing this blog out. So, this pregnancy nightmare is straight from my still groggy brain to you.

In my dream I was at the hospital and suddenly realized that I had birthed my babies and somehow hadn’t seen them yet. I wasn’t a patient or anything, either, which is weird, but hey, it was a pregnancy dream. I went up to the reception desk and explained that I had a baby and I wanted to see her. The lady smiled, found my chart, and said, “Oh, here we are! You had a little girl named Lylee. I’ll send for her.”

I looked at the lady like she was nuts. “Lylee?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s what we named her since you weren’t there,” the lady explained.

“Well, we’ll have to change that, my other daughter is already Lily. I don’t need a Lylee and a Lily running around!”

Soon, a large male nurse came, carrying my beautiful baby girl. She was perfect. I reached out to hold her and stopped, panicking. I turned to the receptionist.

“Wait, I had twins, where’s my other baby?” I shrieked at her.

The receptionist fumbled around with my paperwork for a while, checking, double checking, and shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “You only had one baby.”

That was when I started hyperventilating. I knew I had two babies. There was no way I was only taking one of them home, perfect and beautiful though she may be. I collapsed to my knees and cried, screamed, gasped for air, and cried some more. I was making a tremendous scene.

The receptionist contacted my doctor who sent down some paperwork for me to read.

“Lindsay told us after Lylee was born that there should have been twins. I saw a possible tissue evidence that there had been twins at one time, but only one baby made it to term, the other was gone in the early weeks.”

I composed myself and left the hospital, though I don’t think they would let me take my baby girl with me. I drove down the road, heartbroken and exhausted from crying.

“And then there was one,” was my final thought, before I awoke.

***

Terrifying pregnancy dream, right?

There is only one explanation I can think of for it. This pregnancy, unlike my previous pregnancies, I have had very few dreams about the gender of the babies. The only other dream I had, in fact, was centered around a boy. In that dream, I knew there was another baby also, but the entire dream was focused around the little boy.

So, my only explanation is that this pregnancy dream was merely telling me that the other twin is a girl. Why the pregnancy dream decided it must be a pregnancy nightmare to get the point across is beyond me, but that’s honestly the only explanation I can think of, other than the horrible, unthinkable possibility that I really will only give birth to one baby.

If you love dissecting dreams, I’d love to hear your take on it. Oddly enough, though I was sad when I first woke up, the longer I am awake, the more excited I am for what I saw in my dream. This makes me think it wasn’t meant to be a dream of loss after all.