I still dream of them

Yesterday was the twins' 1st birthday. It was one year ago that I got a call telling me our lives were going to change forever. I remember feeling cautious about them deep in my spirit- like I knew not to hold on too tight. I thought maybe they wouldn't come into foster care at all. Maybe a relative would step forward. I know now that the Lord was holding me already, from the moment I knew about them, He was comforting me and loving me because I was going to need it. In that comfort, I found a freedom to dream about these babies. I had dreams of my sons.

I dreamed of a full minivan buzzing around town dropping the kids off at their own activities (because, of course, we would encourage each to have individual interests- not just twin identities). I dreamed of complaining on social media about potty training 2 toddlers at once. I dreamed of bunk beds and double strollers. There was a lot of laughter in my dreams of them.

It was only a weekend that passed before I picked them up. When the call came that said, "Go", I was bursting at the seams. The carseats and the diaper bag and the teeny tiny snowsuits were full of dreams as I drove to the hospital.

 I held Baby 7 for 40 minutes in the nursery at the hospital. Baby 8 was doing his carseat test and Baby 7 was awake, so we rocked in the chair by their bassinets. I talked to him and snapped pictures on my cellphone. I told him all about my dreams for him. He was deeply loved and desperately wanted. Everyone was home waiting for him.

The next day they were gone. I lost my sons that day. My heart broke into a million little pieces like broken glass. Even now, if I move too fast or thoughtless, my insides pain with loss.

I have struggled this year with how to move forward without leaving them behind. Yesterday, their birthday hit me hard. I thought about them every minute- even while sleeping. I dreamed of them.

I dreamed of them older, maybe 4 or 5 years old. We were in Heaven. They were playing together as I watched, and the sun was shining on them. They were so happy and beautiful. I remember thinking in my dream that there was no other place where they would fit in as well. These perfect children in a perfect place.

Today I thought about Baby 8- who is not actually in Heaven. What is my dream of him? How do I move through life with my son out there in this pretty scary- not at all perfect- world? I dream of him knowing the Lord. I dream of Baby 8 being able to hear and recognize the voice of his Savior over every other sound. I dream of someone holding him close, even if that person can not be me.

The only Mothering I get to do for them is to have big dreams. It's not the role I expected, but it's the one I got. I forsee a lot of sitting on the couch, missing the dreams that are gone, this weekend. After that time that I've reserved for sorrow, I am going to rejoice in the dreams of our futures...

Baby 8's happy life... 

Our Heavenly reunion... 

Big dreams of Baby 9.... 

Without Baby 7's passing, we would never have known Baby 9

They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. Psalm 126:5