He comes to me in my sleep

I recently mentioned that I’ve had a few good dreams lately, and that until now I’ve had only bad dreams since we lost Rami.  I may not have mentioned that many of my dreams have been about Rami.  In the beginning of this loss, I dreamt of him almost every night, and on some nights he was all I dreamt about.  In most of those dreams, Rami was far away or lost or in need and I was not taking care of him.  Sometimes I dreamt of being a negligent mother, letting my baby lie in a corner hungry and crying.  Sometimes I dreamt he was lost, and I didn’t care much to find him while others around me stared at me in disbelief.  I would wake up from those dreams with such overwhelming guilt and shame.  Some nights I dreamt Rami was drowning in a lake or swimming pool, or the ocean, and I would frantically search for him, diving deep and then coming up empty handed, gasping for breath.  Sometimes I would find him, pale-faced and cold, his beautiful little lips, the exact replica of mine, blue and lifeless, and I’d rush him to the surface in my desperate attempts to save his life.  I’d watch in horror and sorrow as I came to the realization, night after night, that my baby boy was gone and no matter how hard I tried, I could do nothing to bring him back. 

Sometimes the horror was not in the dream itself, but in the waking moments after sleep, for the dream itself had been tender and sweet.  On those nights, I dreamt of holding Rami, caressing his soft skin, his dark wavy hair, listening to the noises he would make while nestled up warm and close to my heart.  I would nurse him, and he would look at me with such pleasure and contentment in his eyes.  I have never in real life experienced my child’s suckle, but in my dreams I know the feeling full well. 

These days, I don’t dream of Rami every night, which is a good thing because it’s exhausting and I need my energy for other things.  I still miss him or think of him nearly every hour of every day, but I am learning how to function within this reality of being a mother with no child.  I’ve come to view my life in phases; pre-Rami, with-Rami, and post-Rami.  The with-Rami phase was short, but oh-so-sweet.  My pregnancy days were when I felt the happiest, most hopeful and beautiful of all my life.  But these post-Rami days, oh these days.  It’s a challenge, to say the least.  Every day is a challenge, and for more reasons than the missing my son. 

He comes to me in my sleep, but these days it’s mostly only in his sweetness.  And each time he visits, he has grown.  He would be almost 9 months old now, and that’s how I saw him when he came the other night.  He’s so beautiful and strong and healthy, and always hungry for his mama’s milk.  I nurse him, and in the feeding him I too am fed.  Those tormenting dreams have stopped for the most part, and I’ve realized now that when Rami comes, I can enjoy the closeness we have in that place, and when I wake up I don’t have to feel robbed or cheated or teased by my dreams.  I have come to understand what a blessing those dreams are for me.  They happen, interestingly, usually around the time of my period – the female body is so amazing to me.  I miss him more intensely around this time, and that’s usually when he comes to me.  I’ve come to see the mercy in his visits, and I am so thankful for God’s grace in allowing me time with my son.

I told Ghaith the other night of how our son visits me in my sleep.  I had hesitated to tell him, for fear that he would think I was just being silly or ridiculous in my missing Rami.  Ghaith’s reaction was actually very touching, and it helped me to know that although he doesn’t talk about his longings for our son like I do, he is missing Rami too.