The Dream

I gave birth to our first child 11 months after my wedding (yes, it was planned that way). I was in my last semester of college, getting my degree in International Relations. (My love of the world and its diversity once again pushed me in a direction I couldn't explain. Though it was an impractical field for a woman who never intended to work full-time, I loved every moment of it.) It was incredibly difficult taking a new born baby to class with me all day, every day. I would nurse under a blanket with the left arm and take notes with the right hand. Needless to say, I was exhausted. Midnight feedings weren't helping matters either. I would crash into bed with a thud every night.

One night, I was sleeping heavily, having just gotten Oakley in bed and homework completed. I was suddenly awakened by a voice of a boy calling, "Mom, Mom!" with such urgency my heart began to pound. I had heard it somewhere between dreaming and waking. I jumped out of bed and searched the house. I don't know if I thought there would be a little boy behind my couch, but in my sleep-deprived state, I was totally confused and stumbled around the house looking for the source of the voice. I went in and looked at my sleeping baby, laying peacefully still--obviously not him, for several reasons. I was baffled, the voice had been as audible as if someone had been standing next to me. As I climbed back into bed, the meaning of my dream came very clearly to my thoughts. "There is another little boy waiting for you."

I decided that I should not put off having another baby. Because of the urgency of the voice, I felt an urgency to get that child here. When Oakley was 18 months, I gave birth to, yes, a little girl :), Chloe. Seventeen months later I gave birth to yet another little girl, Gwynyth. Luckily, the dream began to fade somewhat in my mind over the years, which probably was a good thing or I would have 10 kids by now :). I waited for four years to have my next child. Even with this pregnancy, I was sure this would be my little boy. At seventeen weeks along, I got an ultra sound that determined without a doubt that I was, in fact, having a little girl. I cried for an hour and then got over it. I figured it was God's way of saying you're not done with kids yet! Sophia joined our family and was a welcomed delight.

Two years later, pregnant again, I knew for sure it was my little boy. Knew it without a doubt. Finally, the little boy that had called my name all those years ago was coming to my family. Guess again. My beautiful little Giselle, was to join our family. My FOURTH girl. I hate to say it, but I cried again. I was longing for that little boy so badly. Plus, boys are so much easier than little girls! So much less drama.

The night after our ultrasound, I began looking on the computer at international adoption. I found the most beautiful little boys in orphanages all over the world. I told Brian that I was done being a human pez dispenser and if there really was a little boy for us, we would be importing him! Brian laughed and said, "Maybe in about 5 years we'll look into it." (As a side note, Brian's five years actually were reduced to about 18 months.)

As the months passed and Giselle got older, I thought less and less about that dream and that "other little boy". Being the mother to five children, homeschooling, and getting my husband through Physician Assistant school dissolved any desire I had to have more children. Tired is an understatement. Yet, I have found out that it is at those exact moments in life, God takes the opportunity to push you even harder, farther, and higher. I call them stretching and growing periods of life--they are actually pretty painful times. Peace and quiet were not to be in my life. The truth is, as I get older, I realize I am not cut out for monotony and even though somedays I complain, I thrive on a challenge.

But, back to the story. Like I mentioned, I had all but forgotten my dream and when I did remember it, I just chalked it up to sleep deprivation or a hallucination. Until. . .One night, after my baby sister's wedding, we were all sitting around shooting the breeze. Our meandering course of conversation brought us to the topic of dreams. We discussed how you can tell if a dream is from God. The consensus seemed to be that it would remain clear in your head even after waking, a meaning would come to your mind, or you would never forget it--it would remain clear in your mind for years. I thought about that conversation for several weeks. It plagued my thoughts. I turned that dream over and over again in my mind. I had tried to dismiss it and yet it haunted me for weeks. Finally, I relented and once again admitted this dream was important to my life. I called my mother and said, "For some reason, I am not supposed to forget that dream. I don't know what the timing or exact meaning are, but I must not forget that dream."

When I finally made peace with the dream in November, I knelt in prayer and told the Lord that I was willing to do whatever he required of me--I always have been, sometimes more cheerfully than others:). I would even be willing to give birth to another child if that is what he asked of me (even though the thought of pregnancy triggers severe anxiety attacks). Heavenly Father did have something very specific for me to do as I was to find out several months later, and joyfully, it did not include pregnancy!