Catch The Baby

May 15, 2019

By Sanda Rathamone



“Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be." - Shel Silverstein

There is a small boy, he looks to be at least one-years-old. He is happy, giddy with excitement. His gait is more of a waddle, he is just learning to walk. Yet, his legs move in a smooth, quick motion; he is running! He is running towards the black gate, the gate that separates our duplex from a busy street. 

The old lady downstairs notices that he is trying to leave, but she lets him run, as if to let him believe that he could easily slip away. At the same time, she hesitates.  She realizes: "He could actually get away..." Somehow, it looks as though he could run through the gate without needing to open it. 

The way she goes after him, it is like she is forcing herself; she doesn't want to put in much of her effort. She catches the boy, but not with love. There is no connection or relation, they are strangers to each other. But to the boy, it is a game and he is having fun. While he tries to get free and runs off for a second time, my father-in-law stands at his window, watching the whole event. He tells my husband and I to "go get him." Without ever really trying, the old lady has given up.

This is a dream that came to me yesterday. 

After my stillbirth, I would often have dreams of babies. It has been a long while since I had a (memorable) dream about children. Many of these dreams were vivid, often leaving an impression that I recognized them, or appeared to be sending a message. In this dream, I felt that it was sending a message, or an opportunity... for another baby. 

When I analyzed the dream, the boy didn't feel like he belonged to the old lady, or to anyone. He felt like a visitor, kind of like a butterfly - just fluttering by. His presence was alluring, while at the same time elusive. He made it seem like there was a possibility of catching him, but that it was not going to be easy. I could feel his temporariness, or indecisiveness; he just wanted to have some fun. He wasn't here to stay, but if we were lucky, we could catch him and call him our baby. 

There is this idea floating around in my mind: he was a miscarriage. Not mine, but someone else's. He has probably "visited" many others, bringing hope and heartache wherever he goes. 

I could imagine him as a firefly, and myself running in circles trying to catch him with my palms.  Catching him would be a risk, I thought. And that is why the dream had not shown whether or not my husband and I had tried. I wanted to, we were going to... I wish I knew his name, so that I could tell him that if he stayed with us, we would love him dearly with everything we had. If he wanted, we could run around and chase each other all day at the park, at the lake, around the house. We could have so much fun together as a family. A complete and happy family.

But I am battle-weary of losing hope and losing again.

In June, it will have been three years since Elijah died. Every month, I hold tightly onto hope for another baby. The longing has never left and becomes a deeper scar in my womb. It is agonizing when all of my dreams crumble and fall away once more; hope is not enough to bring a baby home. Every day, I can't help thinking of what life would be like as a mother to a living child. So much so, that I have gathered names of Elijah's siblings and imagine telling them stories of Elijah.

I saw Elijah's butterfly at the garden yesterday and whispered to it, "Tell Elijah to bring us another baby." I guess we will name this little guy, Sebastian. That is if we can catch him.


With love,
Must Read:
Read Elijah's Story, "From Gender Reveal to a Spontaneous Delivery"

Photo: RH Baby & Child

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