I have only shared this with a handful of people. It was a very private, personal experience that left me traumatized--especially once everything had turned full circle. However, I feel a deep desire and peace about sharing it at this time.
When I was 16 weeks pregnant with the twins, I fell into a very deep sleep during a nap. While sleeping, I had a very vivid (and later, poignant) dream that turned into my worst nightmare. In my dream, the twins had gotten into trouble, and the doctors decided that they needed to take them immediately. I was crying out to them that I was only 16 weeks pregnant, there was no way they would survive, but the doctors insisted that it was too dangerous for them to remain inside my womb.
Against my anguish that they wouldn't survive being born at 16 weeks, they were born via c-section. We had only recently found out that we were having a boy and a girl, and had already chosen their names--Wesley and Zenith. In this dream, Wesley didn't live long after being born. Jay and I were horrified at losing him, and both of us were in complete disbelief. At the same time, we were overjoyed, because Zenith (even though I consciously knew that, at 16 weeks, she would never survive) was crying lustily, and was pink, fat and healthy.
Approximately 16 weeks later, the unthinkable happened. During a routine NST (non-stress test), we found out that we had lost our little boy, Wesley. Ten days later, Zenith was born at 34 weeks, and came out screaming, clearly upset about being removed from her comfortable home. Nearly two years later, she is still healthy, unbelievably happy and such a joy! While we lost her brother, and will never get over the pain of that loss, God has blessed us immeasurably by allowing us to keep her with us on this earth, getting to know her sweet little face, and watching her grow and learn--trying to keep up with her big brother Andrew, whom she loves fiercely (and we're pretty sure he likes her too).
I don't know if this dream was a warning, or meant to give me comfort. At any rate, while the pain of being told stings to this day, I wasn't totally shocked when I found out that we had lost little Wesley. Throughout the pregnancy, I had a strange feeling that I was waiting for bad news--more so than any expectant mother would. Yet, I also felt a comforting but odd peace that, no matter what happened, Zenith would be okay.
Raised Pentecostal, I was brought up to expect supernatural events to occur, and taught that spiritually supernatural things happen all the time. Having never experienced anything like that in my lifetime, over time, I became a skeptic. This event changed that skepticism. I am grateful for the preparation of what was to come, and the strength to go forward and focus on the positive of a healthy, happy little girl instead of getting caught up on and dwelling on the horrific events that happened to our family two years ago. My faith has been shaken, but not destroyed. I have questions, I have anger, and I have sadness.
More than anything, I have hope.
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